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| Where do I begin? I grew up in an environment of alcoholism. This environment was filled with physical abuse, emotional abuse, neglect, anxiety and most importantly....denial. We weren't allowed to discuss what went on in our home. It was to be swept under the rug, like the dirty little secret it was. I can't count how many times we had to silently put the house back together while my dad slept it off on the couch. I guess it was simply easier to pretend it didn't happen. I guess not acknowledging it, meant we didn't have to deal with it. But we did have to deal with it and not discussing it didn't make it go away...it allowed it to continue. |
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| I could start with the emotional issues domestic violence causes. Or the anxiety and panic attacks. The issues of trust and constantly being guarded. Always looking over your shoulder, waiting for the next bomb to drop. The effort to accept and forgive...at least enough to move on and live a normal daily life. I could start with the importance of breaking the cycle, so this doesn't move on to the next generation. Or the importance of releasing the anger and becoming a productive human being. These are all important topics that need to be addressed and I will try to include them all. |
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| Or I could start with some of my own personal experiences. The constant physical fights. The yelling and screaming. The broken "things." Being picked up by the throat, while my mom stood by and did nothing. Watching my mom get shoved through a kitchen window by the hair, pulled back through, and pushed out the door onto the porch. Then being told by my dad that if we tried to let her in, he'd shoot us. I could talk about the small travel trailer that was pulled from place to place, sometimes with no running water and illegally wired electricity. Relocating was a constant. There was no need to feel secure, because in no time at all, we'd be on the move again. I could discuss the countless times my parents left us with people we didn't even know; sneaking out when they thought we weren't aware. And there were times those people made it very clear that we were not wanted there. I could never understand how I could be placed somewhere I wasn't truly wanted. But it happened time and time again. I remember my brother and I spending some time on the porch because we weren't allowed to enter the house while the other kids got to have their bowl of ice cream. I remember wearing the same clothes everyday and let me tell you...other kids aren't afraid to remind you of it. I could also talk about the sexual abuse I endured from one of my dad's drunk friends when I was five years old. I could dwell on my mom's attitude of, "If I can't beat him, I'll join him." And how she spent her share of time on the bar stool beside him, while we were left at home alone, probably because no one would take us for the night. And of course, there's my mom's denial and how, "Her kids always came first." I get physically ill everytime I hear her say it. |
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| I started taking care of my sister when she was a baby. I was ten years old, and had no idea how to care for an infant. I recall the first time I was left alone with her. I stood out at the end of the driveway, looking up the street, begging them to come back. That was the day something shifted in me. I became hard as survival issues kicked in. When my parents would conveniently find a different sitter for the night, I always seemed to run them off. I literally had babysitters walk out on me, because I made their experience with us a living hell. Who did they think they were, coming into my home and telling me what to do? Thinking they could take care of my baby sister better than I could. I've been handling things just fine, thank you very much. I certainly didn't need them. Over time, my mom told me since I kept running them off, I would just do it on my own. Like I hadn't been doing that already. My sister wouldn't respond to anyone but me anyway....so what good were they? Bye-bye...see ya later! |
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I was never shown how to change a diaper or make a bottle. I guess it was assumed I would figure it out. After all, they would only be gone "a couple of hours." What could possibly go wrong? But those couple hours always turned into a day long event, usually extending into the early morning hours, which would end with them coming home in a fight. Do you realize how scary it is to a ten year old child to be left at home alone, with an infant, especially when it gets dark? We rarely had a phone, so I never had any way of checking in to see when they'd be home. I was forced to learn to deal with it. |
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These few examples I've shared are only the tip of the iceberg. |
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The emotional issues from domestic abuse could fill a book and there is no way I can cover them all in this article. The programming that comes from living in an abusive household is devastating to the human mind. In order to survive, the mind has to adapt and it becomes programmed to work in a certain way. It remembers everything and protects against danger in ways we still don't understand. The human mind literally has the ability to protect itself and it does this by altering what we think, which effects the way we see things. When our programming changes the way we think, it also effects the way we feel because the mind and body are tightly connected. What effects one, effects the other. Emotional abuse is one of the hardest to overcome because of the programming done to the mind. You can reprogram the mind to think and operate in a different manner, but it takes time and a lot of hard, heavy and deep soul searching, which is hardly a walk in the park. |
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Anxiety and panic attacks are also experiences that come from abuse. In most cases, the attacks are chronic because the mind/body are used to working in fight or flight mode. When the mind is trained to live this way, it will continue to do so, even when there is no reason for it. It simply doesn't know any different. I've been experiencing anxiety since I was five years old and it wasn't until a few years ago, I finally figured it out. I still get anxious from time to time, but I've learned to deal with attacks. |
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Growing up in an abusive environment made me hard, guarded and non-trusting. You'll never see me cry. It doesn't mean I don't...it just means you won't see it. I view life differently and I respond to it differently. I don't drink. How could I? Drinking is what caused my childhood to be the way it was. The thought of putting alcohol in my system makes me physically ill and brings on anxiety instantly. |
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I've had to overcome serious trust issues. How could I possible believe what you tell me? You're not really going to be there for me, so I simply won't count on it. I've learned to survive and I can take care of myself. I've learned to accept certain things and I've learned to forgive. I've done this for ME. Not for my parents, not for the bullies I encountered, not for the other adults who treated me less than the trash in their garbage...but for ME. For my own sanity and well-being. For my own piece of mind. I'm happy with the person I've become and I've become that person on my own. |
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I decided a long time ago, I would not remain a victim and I would not become a product of my environment. I decided I would forgive as much as I could. Does that mean the circumstances I encountered were justified? Not for a second! Does that mean that to this day, I think it's alright that my parents have to make a nightly stop in the bar on their way home? Not a chance! Where do I place blame? With my father, who didn't know how to stop? With my mother, who allowed it to happen? I feel they both should be held responsible. But I'm no longer a victim of their circumstance. Their life is their's to live as they choose. I simply choose to move in a difference direction. I decided the cycle stops with me. It will not be passed on to the next generation that I brought into this world. Which means my kids won't pass it on to their's and nothing makes me happier! At least I can sleep at night knowing that. |
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Confessions of the Wounded Inner Child |
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I have always been there |
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I could not escape you |
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You taught me oh so much |
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I soon became so silent |
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Overtime, as I grew |
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It took me a long time |
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I did learn how to heal |
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I will not pass this on |
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I will learn to be stronger |
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My life is in your hands |
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For I will never forget |
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My mind is like a thirsty sponge |
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© Copyright 2006 Angel Shadow™ |
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