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Updated: April 5, 2021
Originally Published: April 2, 2021
My mother never physically harmed me. She never laid a hand on me, and while my father often lashed out with his brown leather belt, I didn’t see him as an abuser at the time. He was simply a product of the ‘80s, a reflection of the parenting style of that era. However, everything changed when I began therapy in the summer of 2020, shortly after my mother passed away. Following her death, buried traumatic memories resurfaced, leaving me overwhelmed by nightmares and flashbacks. That is when I recognized that I had endured mental, physical, and emotional abuse from both my parents. My childhood was filled with manipulation, neglect, and emotional turmoil.
I always sensed that my upbringing was far from typical. I was born in Florida in 1984 to what many would call a “good” family. I had a mother, father, brother, and a pet dog, and we resided in a gated community with a tall privacy fence and an above-ground pool. Initially, life seemed ideal. However, between my fifth and sixth birthday, something shifted. I can’t pinpoint whether it was physical, sexual, or emotional, but I do remember the day I transitioned from being a carefree, joyful child to feeling heavy and withdrawn.
My voice was forever altered, silenced by abuse, and I remained that way for decades, from age six to thirty-six. The environment I grew up in left me feeling disrespected and unloved.
You might wonder how I can know I was abused without remembering specific details. Trauma can be elusive like that. It’s a hallmark of PTSD; sometimes the specifics are obscured, yet feelings and sensations linger. These sensations are not the memories themselves, but rather shadows of repressed moments.
I may not recall the exact moments of my initial abuse, but I vividly remember large portions of my childhood filled with hurtful words and physical punishment. I was labeled as stupid and worthless. At one point, I was even referred to as a mistake. I have memories of being photographed in vulnerable states, with cameras pointed at me during swim time and bath time. I was often encouraged to “strip down.” And then there was that belt.
I’m not alone in this experience. Studies estimate that 1 in 7 children in the U.S. face child abuse every year. Many people mistakenly believe that abuse is solely physical—associated with broken bones or bruises—when, in reality, neglect is the most common form of child abuse, followed by physical, sexual, and psychological abuse. Like many, I experienced various types of abuse. My father physically struck me, while my mother emotionally manipulated and neglected me, especially after my father died. At just twelve, I was left to fend for myself, all while facing verbal and emotional attacks. These experiences left deep scars.
Emotionally, I became needy and overly eager to please. I constantly seek approval and affection. Mentally, I feel trapped, haunted by the voices that tell me I am not enough. I often feel like a “mistake.” Physically, I struggle with feelings of unsafeness; while I crave connection, I often flinch at touch, feeling anxious and ill.
Despite these challenges, I am on a journey of healing. I am working with a psychologist and psychiatrist to reclaim my body and mind, and I’m set to start sessions with a trauma specialist who will use EMDR therapy to help me confront my past. Each day, I remind myself that I am enough, even when doubt creeps in—because I believe that eventually, I will truly believe it. My psychologist reassures me that my brain absorbs the affirmations I speak. Although this year has been particularly difficult with traumatic memories resurfacing, I don’t view myself as a victim. Instead, I see myself as a thriver, a survivor. My life may have been different, but I am determined to overcome the challenges it presented.
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In summary, I transformed my traumatic childhood experiences into a journey of survival. With the help of professional guidance, I am actively rewriting my narrative, embracing healing, and affirming my worth.
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