As we celebrate the International Women’s Day, we want to remember the real heroes, women all over the world who have gone through tough times and yet hold their head high. Women who refused to bow under incredible pressure and instead determined to make something of their lives despite the odds.
On this day, we celebrate Nina Ndubuisi. Nina is a qualified nurse and midwife, who works full time supporting people with learning disabilities and Mental health issues to enable them access and engage socially with their community, ensuring they live a full and active life. She is currently living in Belvedere, Kent United Kingdom, with her husband and three daughters. You can follow her “wacky thoughts” at www.ninas-thoughts.com
This is her story in her own words: please click here if you missed the first part.
I know the continuation of my story is well overdue, but narrating this has taken its toll on me, reliving the memories, I actually wanted to forget about it and not publish this but a lot of people have sent me private messages asking me what happened? How I dealt with the abuse I had to go through as a child and able to live and tell the tale and live a “normal” life by being a wife a mother, I then knew I owed it to all of you to publish the conclusion and narrate the horrific trauma I went through. Like I mentioned earlier, I am NOT looking for sympathy or any counselling, my decision to let you into my “world” and share the dark secrets I have been harbouring all this while is, I believe that “someone” who may have gone through the same thing or something similar, might be able to draw strength from my story.
I must have been eight years old or just turned 9 the day “it” happened, I remember playing in the front room with my dolls, It was not long I had returned from school as I was still in my school uniform. I think I had got all my dolls and teddy bears in a circle and was having a picnic with them, I remember hearing the door bell, I stood up and peeped from behind the curtains to see who it was – I had been warned never to open the door for anyone, but as a child, curiosity always got the better of me, although I was not allowed to open the door, I always wanted to see who was at the door. As I looked through the glass, I noticed it was “uncle” and his friend, I could not recount ever seeing this particular friend before, I noticed “uncle” look towards the window and I quickly closed the curtains – I did not want him to see me looking at him through the window and telling “daddy” I had been naughty. At this point our “nanny” (aunty), came down and opened the door, I could hear their voices in the hallway, indicating that they had been let in, my heart began to race, not with excitement, more with apprehension as I knew what would follow; “uncle” would come into the living room order me to get him a glass from the kitchen for him to drink his beer, then he will order me to sit on his lap and do his “thing”, whilst I popped sweets into my mouth “like a good girl” – as that was what “good girls” were meant to do, right? Well how did I know any different?
To be continued.