by Guest Blogger Valerie Kelso
My name is Valerie Kelso, a native of England, I grew up in a large family with four brothers and eight sisters. I am the proud mother of Rachael and two granddaughters, Taisha, and Teoni. I am a licensed Medical Massage Practitioner and massage instructor, Certified in Nutrition Diabetes and Heart Disease, certified in Nutrition and Cancer, Improving mental health and suicide prevention in young adults, also Responding to sexual harassment and violence just to name a few. I am the founder and CEO of PLT Massage and Wellness, Purple Light Touch Foundation, and The Do not Believe the Hype Show. This is just a small snippet of my life.
A Tough Start
My life journey of pain began early in life due to bullying. To cope with the bullying, I resorted to stealing cookies to share with the bullies. I had been repeatedly told that nobody would find me attractive because of my tall and slender frame, and some family members even described me as unattractive and that I looked like Olive Oyl in the cartoon, Popeye.
When my first boyfriend expressed interest in me, I felt elated. Although I had not initially desired that relationship, he claimed to have been the victim of a stabbing, and I felt compelled to stay with him. A few months later, I found out I was pregnant. Fear kept me from sharing this news with my parents, and they only learned of my pregnancy when I was well into my seventh month. My mother suggested giving up my daughter at the hospital, believing that I had brought shame upon the church. Several church members shared her perspective. Despite the challenges and the judgment, I made the decision to keep my daughter, Rachael, thanks to a loving dad.
I was living at home at the time, so I would go to my boyfriend’s place and that is where the abuse started, I was 17 years old and pregnant again and because he did not want another child, he beat me badly in my stomach for several hours hoping I would lose our second child. He ran away for several months to his sisters in London.
On My On
At the age of 18, I finally managed to secure my own place. However, when I was seven months pregnant, I heard a knock on my door, and to my shock, he was standing there. Overwhelmed with fear, he requested that I follow him to the store. During our return journey to my apartment, my water suddenly broke. I remained silent, my body paralyzed by fear, and I decided to wait until Monday. By Tuesday, the heart-wrenching truth had set in—I had lost our baby girl, leaving me in a state of profound devastation. He heartlessly suggested that if I desired another child, I would need to resort to desperate measures like engaging with other individuals for financial gain.
During my sorrow, I found myself angry with God, questioning why I was subjected to such a painful experience.
I found myself trapped in a deeply troubling situation, overwhelmed by depression, anger, and emotional pain. Despite the turmoil in my life, I held a strong desire to have another child, and this led me to make painful decisions. The person I was involved with would subject me to physical violence for trivial reasons, with each week bringing a new source of anguish. My yearning for another child drove me to comply with his demands, driven by the constant fear that hung over me.
A Painful Experience
Several months later, we traveled to his sister’s residence in London. It was during this trip that he attempted to push me into a situation I was unwilling to accept, which led to another terrifying episode of violence. He inflicted a deep wound on my arm, a chilling reminder of how close I had come to enduring a far worse fate intended for my face. After this traumatic incident, he insisted that we return home, and the journey back to the train station was marked by a relentless stream of abuse and physical assault.
During this terrifying journey, my body was placed in a compartment, where the relentless cycle of beating and abuse continued unabated for over two agonizing hours. The situation became so dire that even his own sister felt compelled to intervene, contacting my father to meet me at the train station that night. As I saw the tear in my father’s eye, the extent of the ordeal became painfully clear.
That night, they brought me back home, and everything appeared undisturbed in my house. My dad, concerned for my safety, decided to inspect our daughter’s room, where he had secretly sneaked in while I was in hiding. The sight he encountered left him visibly upset. My dad attempted to apprehend the intruder, but he managed to slip out through the door. It was later revealed that on that fateful night, I narrowly escaped a potentially fatal encounter. The intruder had broken a broomstick in half, intending to use the pieces as makeshift weapons, and had sinister intentions. I was indeed fortunate that my father had come to my rescue.
A Traumatic Cycle
Following that traumatic experience, I found myself entangled in two more abusive relationships, enduring physical harm that nearly cost me my right arm and even having objects thrown at me, such as a bathroom scale. Thankfully, I did not become pregnant again during this period.
