Finding Me

by Viola Davis

It’s ironic that she was sitting in my beautiful kitchen of marble and porcelain, with the subzero refrigerator and high ceilings, and it meant absolutely fucking nothing compared to the largeness of the truth of what was happening. Success pales in comparison to healing. Not just the truth of the abuse but the decision to love, to forgive . . . what I knew the reaction would be . . . which was silence.

Your first instinct when you love a child is to protect her from the pain of the world . . . and life. The most excruciating revelation is when you realize you can’t.

Six-year-old me punched him as hard as I could. No apology. Hell! He kicked me hard afterward but I got back up, with tears, to kick his ass again!! Somehow along the way, I guess I felt she was wrong. That in my journey to “the top,” to being more “evolved,” I left the street fighter behind. I left my claws.

I thought my money and success could save all of them. I learned the hard way that when there are underlying issues, money does nothing. In fact, money exacerbates the problem because it takes away the individual’s ability to be held accountable.