A lot of us try to bury the painful things from our past deep down in places we don’t have to talk about. I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older, that talking about our struggles makes us stronger. Furthermore, sharing our experiences together helps us all heal. That’s the reason that I’m sharing a painful story of mine today.
My early childhood memories evoke feelings of being unwanted, loneliness, and a lot of confusion. The happy times involved being pacified with sugar, listening to music on the jukebox, Yeah, it’s not much to talk about at happy hour or cocktail parties.
One thing that really helped me was learning to find confidence in myself and my achievements. In school, I was excelling and learning how to succeed and fly all on my own. No matter what was happening outside of school, no one could take away my good grades from me. That was an extremely empowering feeling.
My Home Life Was Different Compared To Most
My home life though was far from perfect. I should start off saying that until I was reviewing podcast ideas this year, I considered myself to have been raised by a single parent, my Mother. The memories of my Dad are foggy at best, and the ones that I do have are not very happy ones. I remember limited visits which typically included alcohol and an endless parade of women. This sort of instability is very tough on a child who is in their developmental stage.
While most of my time was spent with my Mother, it would be a stretch by anyone’s definition to call things good or even better with her. My Mother was an abusive alcoholic with no high school diploma, no drivers license, and no job. My Mother was beautiful but wildly insecure, and she spent most of her days chasing men and the bottom of a bottle. I honestly believe she didn’t love herself, which made it incredibly difficult for her to love herself.
Worse than being incapable of loving me, she was prone to violent outbursts that would leave me bruised and hurting. Her alcoholism was so bad that she would often see me bruised and battered the next day and ask me what had happened. She couldn’t even remember it was her that had hurt me.
Some nights she would pay someone to watch me so she could be whisked away by a gentleman caller for the night. Worse, sometimes, a night would turn into a week, and a week would turn into weeks. Abandonment is a terrible thing to feel as a child.
Childhood Trauma Didn’t End There
I wish that I could tell you that this was where my story of childhood trauma ended, but it isn’t. The specifics aren’t super important here, so I will keep it simple and to the high-level point. During those times that my Mother would leave me, there was one family in particular that has left a black stain on my life. I was sexually assaulted by the boyfriend repeatedly, which unfortunately is one of many significant traumatic experiences that I have ever endured throughout my life.
The mind is a powerful thing that tries to protect us from painful things from our past. While I’ve never been able to shake the memory of what he did to me, in prepping for this story, I did rediscover a buried memory that I had long ago forgotten. The family’s son also sexually assaulted me when I was there. It’s safe to say that this home was a house of horrors for me.
The Silver Lining in This Dark Story
Okay, so we have now ventured into some dark times and memories but there is a point to all of this. I often wrap up my stories with a lesson or a silver lining. That’s not the case here. Today’s story is simply about survival, about appreciating the good things in your life.
I know that some of you are out there reading this, and unfortunately, you are relating to these stories. However, for those of you who had it better, maybe take the time to appreciate the love that your parents had for you, imperfect as it may be.
Branching off of this, to those of us who are parents, remember to love your kids. But also, remember to not be too hard on yourselves. If you are a loving parent, know that being that is enough and that caring for your child is the ultimate gift in the world.
To my fellow survivors, keep fighting the good fight. It’s a never-ending battle, but you are braver and stronger than you know.
