#Excerpt of a #Chapter of I Made It Out By Avishai El #IMadeItOut #AvishaiEl @between_pr #BlogTour

I Made It Out
By Avishai El

I Made It Out banner

Today I am pleased to be on the blog tour for – I Made It Out. I have a sneaky peek at the cover, blurb and an excerpt of the first chapter to share with you Thanks to Reading Between The Lines for inviting me. Take a look and also discover where you can buy the book and website and social media links.

I Made It Out


I Made It Out” details the raw, uncut, and honest life events of AvishaiEl.  She is 32 years old and decided to write this book to help other people who are going through situations that they feel as though they can’t get out of.  She affirms that you can get out of any situation and provides historical context in which she used her mental, emotional, physical, and spiritual capacities to face challenges head on.  In order to maintain peace, one has to go through things in life to get there.  She has gone through ups and downs.  All readers from all walks of life will be able to relate to her shared experiences.  On days where you feel low in life and on days where you feel high on life, opening this book and reading it will provide you with the tools you need to succeed no matter what.  Some of the imagery is explicit to paint a visual picture for the reader.
If she could get through it you can. You can make it out

Chapter One 

On rare occasions he would take me somewhere. The only time I remember him actually spending time with me at that age was when he went to get himself a sandwich filled with sprouts. He let me have a bite of his sandwich but didn’t get me a sand‐ wich. I always thought that was the weirdest thing to do. If I had a child, I would have also bought them something to eat. My father was a detached individual who acted impulsively. He was someone who would leave people, such as my mom and I, filled with unanswered questions. For example, him leaving was an impulsive action. There was no explanation. Another example is the time I asked my father about nationality. I asked my father, “What is my nationality?” His response, “We’re everything.” In my estimation his actions didn’t make sense to me. He wasn’t the type to admit to anything or take accountability. Saying, “Sorry” was not a part of his vocabulary and he always appeared aloof. This aloof, detached attitude that my father possessed put my life in danger. What was seen as ‘doing the right thing’ by my mom, because she followed a court order and didn’t want to keep her daughter away from her father, would later bring immense pain and sadness.
Every other Friday when I went to see my father at my paternal grandmother’s house, my mom would check in and my grandmother would make it seem as if she was there watching me at all times and would tell my mom that my father came over. My paternal grandmother would tell my mom I was doing fine. The reality was, unbeknown to my mom I wasn’t left with my father or his mother, I was left with my paternal grand‐ mother’s husband. He was an elderly man who I saw as a monster. That creature from hell looked like a classic Mr. Rogers to the average person. He would even smile at other people so you wouldn’t suspect the evil lurking underneath that mild exterior. He was very deceptive.
Every time I went over there, I was terrified, but I didn’t say a word to my mom. He abused me sexually and made me do despicable things against my will. He cussed often and called me a bitch. When I was left alone with him, he displayed different personalities. I saw a warped individual, not a person. I was only two-and-a-half to three-years old when I was violently abused.
No child should have to be brutalized. I remember wanting to run away from the house but he blocked me from leaving. I felt trapped. I can recall my mom dropping me off with another family member in the car. My paternal grandmother was outside to walk me in. I cried uncontrollably and was petrified to enter that house. The look on my mom’s face was one of uncertainty. She looked as though she didn’t want to leave me and kept asking me if I wanted to come with her. My maternal grandmother who was in the car with her said, “Just go ‘head,” an irritated edge to her voice. My paternal grandmother would say, “Let’s go in. She’s going to be fine. We’re going to go get breakfast.” This put my mother’s fears at ease. Yet, once again, she lied to my mom. She ended up leaving me with that monster again and then came the worst day of all.

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