Childhood Emotional Abuse

            I wasn’t going to write this blog but I need to take some of my power back. I’ve found it hard to create a flow with these words because trauma is messy and unpredictable but it’s time to create some space for my feelings of helplessness to tell their story. 

 

 I don’t often talk about the awful man who made my childhood much harder than it needed to be. I say I hated him and he was awful and leave it at that because I carry so much shame around how his treatment made me feel weak and powerless and never, ever good enough. How could I admit that I let someone, especially a man, make me feel small and insignificant? Even though I was only a child some part of me still believes I could have changed the situation so that he couldn’t hurt me or anyone else I loved.

 

Abuse, especially at a young age, steals your innocence, vulnerability, and trust. I had to grow up much faster than I should have and have trouble being open to affection. I find it hard to make eye contact when I feel positive and powerful emotions, saying l love you can be challenging, and seeing someone’s eyes soften with love makes me anxious and want to shut down. Why would someone love me? What do I need to do to deserve this love? When will they figure out how broken I am and run away?

 

I don’t remember a lot of the details of the abuse because I left my body so much as a child. My brain couldn’t compute why someone would treat their family with such anger and disrespect so it just shut down. I still have moments where I feel scared to take up space in my own home because when you’re convinced that you aren’t good enough at a young age there’s always that nagging voice that says, “Maybe he was right. Maybe I’m just kidding myself.” 

 

Emotional abuse is often hard to recognize because it’s weaved into a life that can look great on the outside. A garden full of flowers, church on Sunday, and trips around the world. The abuser can be well respected by their peers and do many positive things for their community. They can even be seen as a hero to some but this may not be the same person that calls you demeaning names because your shorts are too short.

 

            And where are the people who are supposed to protect you? Well, sometimes they are hiding with you because they don’t want to be shouted at either. It’s a messy situation where there are no easy answers and some days are really good. So good that you think maybe life is going to finally change… but then the next day you’re back hiding and crying in your closet. There is hate but there is also love and loyalty and your own sense of shame and guilt that you can’t somehow change yourself into the person they want you to be. That is, if they want you around at all. And sometimes they really don’t.

 

            But with 30 years of slow healing, I’ve found some of the gifts buried underneath all his hate and desperation. That time in my life helped me realize that I deserve only the most gentle, vulnerable, and sensitive love which I’ve found in my partner. It taught me that I can survive almost anything which gives me lots of space to take risks, fall on my ass, and get back up to chase my next dream. And finally, digging up all that pain gives me a seemingly endless pool of compassion and empathy for others who are suffering.