Abuse: The Day the Levy Breaks


Can you relate to this story of abuse? If so, Share this Story and Comment on the Blog to Show Support!

Most days, I try my best to be okay. However, I wear my mask well, I have years of practice. People ask me how I’m doing and a million memories of past abuse run through my mind. I simply just smile and with enthusiasm say, “I’m great! How are you?” The truth is that I’m not actually okay.

Read more: Abuse: My Past, Future and Happiness

I don’t think I have ever had a day where I actually felt ‘okay’. I want my kids to see me as a strong woman so I try not to show them the ugly side of this disease.

I know that there have been times in the past where I let it slip through the cracks. Times where I couldn’t find the strength to even get out of bed; times when I couldn’t take them shopping or be out and around other people in public. I feel guilty for those times I cannot get back.

Read more: Breaking the Cycle of Abuse

These feelings have been inside of me for as long as I can remember. It even goes back to hiding in the back of the coat closet as a young child from my abusive, bipolar and schizophrenic adopted mother.

Several years ago, my neighbor across the street told me that she could sometimes hear my screams when the windows were open. She cried as she apologized for never being able to gather the courage to do something and help stop the abuse. I don’t blame her. At the time, it was more socially acceptable to turn a blind eye than to ruin the reputation of a “good Christian woman”.

My years of loneliness seemed to drag on as I kept my circle of friends very small, mainly out of embarrassment concerning my home life. My adopted father buried himself in his work, working long hours and he was rarely at home. I was so lonely and often afraid to even come home.

Read more: Abuse, Anxiety, PTSD, and Depression Survivor

Sometimes, I didn’t even feel like I had a home. Now, I really try to be sure that my kids never feel that pain and the sense of being totally lost.

I am fighting every day. This is only a small part of my story but it’s the foundation of what molded and shaped me. Perhaps I will descend to the core another day but I just wanted to share that you aren’t alone in your battles.

Can you relate to this story of abuse? If so, Share this Story and Comment on the Blog to Show Support!