I was abused as a kid. It wasn’t sexual or anything I was keenly aware of until I had friends. It is something traumatic that I’ll joke about some days and lose my mind over on other days. It’s that invisible puzzle piece, the demise of so much, the “thief-in-the-night”, and the doubt behind my choices.
While I was semi-spoiled and a difficult child, I was just that- a child. My upbringing reflects the sparkles of adamant outside forces and a ton of unhealthy coping habits. I deserved every ounce of love, but, instead, I was so often pushed aside, fought in front of, and blamed as the root of their problems.
To this day, I’m fearful of even speaking about this. I was beaten regularly; I still can’t stand to hear a belt snap. I was humiliated, on purpose and often. I have been screamed at, ignored, iced out, removed from the family house and made to sleep with the dog on the enclosed porch, and had all my belongings taken.
The worst things about this would be that I’m expected to have a relationship with my abusers… and I do. For family harmony, I’ve maintained composure. It’s weird when you love those who you don’t trust. It also means, I can’t freely and openly say, “My dad beat me,” or “My mom threw everything I owned on the lawn when I was six.” Before I even realized it, this trauma had ruined relationships. I was a wrecking ball. As an abused parent, you either wreck or rally. I refuse to wreck.
I rally every time I parent gently. I rally every time I don’t but apologize to my kids and myself. I rally with every sacrifice, with every tear, with every concern that I’m not better than them. Sometimes, I don’t even know how to take my mom’s advice. And, they certainly don’t get asked to babysit my kids. I have rallied because while I still have a relationship with my abusers, I can also see them as human, move on without an apology and be happy without making drama. I’m finally learning to trust again and accept the love I never quite felt I deserved.
I can’t explain how talking about this abuse would have always just swallowed me whole in a dramatic tidal wave. I tried. I swam valiantly. I broke the hearts of those who did nothing but love me wholly; those that protected me. The toxins leached into them, and because they didn’t see how bad it could be, they blamed themselves or were victims themselves, they stayed. Breaking tradition was unacceptable, but I was given the tools to break the cycle. I came close to losing myself a few times, but here I am. I’m a little broken, a little mentally ill, and a little weird. I’m just a mom, breaking the cycle, losing what’s left of her mind and replacing it with all that missing love.
If you or someone you know is being abused, please don’t hesitate to reach out for help. Here are some national resources:
National Domestic Violence Hotline
Report Child Abuse here