I am a survivor of childhood emotional, physical and sexual abuse. There I finally said it.
For thirty-five years my body and my mind has lived with mental and physical pain. My story, like many others, takes me down roads thick as mud with denial. I became stuck for many years, burying my past, and trying to paint the future pretty shades of pink as I crossed the aisle, said I Do, received my B.A. said thank you and walked blindly into the future.
I drank a lot. I did some drugs. I acted out sexually. I did everything to push away my husband, a man who has given me more authentic love then anyone.
Some days I glance at who I was before full-blown PTSD charged into my life, and I see a woman that stays young and afraid, yet plays with fire, silently wishing to get burned. I received lots of burns. I was teaching myself a lesson. See, my mind said, you are bad. You deserve bad things to happen. After convincing myself that I deserved what I get I met someone who would teach me the truth-It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t deserve it. As the plane touched down in LAX, I had no idea life as I knew it would soon be forever altered. I was soon to receive a blessing.
This is my journey as a child abuse survivor walking the sharp peeks and shallow valleys of PTSD. I hope my ramblings inspire survivors to charge onward and wake up with hope instead of dread. Most of all I hope my story opens people’s eyes to the fact that child abuse leads to mental illness. I hope this will serve as a cautionary tale for parents, teachers and anyone who has been given the awesome responsibility to care for children. They are fragile and they do break. Please handle with care.