I started this blog some four or five years ago hoping to market myself as a writer or exorcise this persistent voice in my head that screams like hell to write.
But, I’ve often been uncertain where to pour my focus. Social commentary. Artistic reviews. General observations of life and humanity. Chronicling my struggles as a writer. Delving into the more intimate details of my soul’s wrangles. – I’ve written it all.
But, I think it is time to give this blog a more intentional and intimate purpose.
I was emotionally and physically abused by an undiagnosed and untreated mother who suffered from generalized anxiety disorder and panic attack disorder. My father was complicit by his silence and trapped in his own rage.
This difficult upbringing has caused me countless psychological hiccups that I have only touched upon in this blog.
The main reason I haven’t really jumped into discussing and exploring it is because abuse victims often diminish the effects of the abuse. “It wasn’t that bad. I should get over it. She really did love me. Other people could handle it better,” etc., etc., etc. The list goes on.
But, I haven’t given the abuse the gravity it merits. It DID psychologically and emotionally damage me. To gloss over that with platitudes does no service to me and other survivors. – Just think positive. Use positive visualization. Just let the past go. – Name it. I’ve read it. I’ve tried it.
In many recovery programs, step one reads, “We admitted we were powerless over (fill in the blank) and that our lives had become unmanageable.”
I often blamed that powerlesseness and unmanageability on other people’s mental disorders. But, my subconscious has made me powerless over my own anxiety disorder.
In the process of *EMDR therapy and cognitive behavioral therapy, I am learning that my subconscious is where the sick roots of my childhood have infected my well being. It’s in my therapy that I am learning that my outward relationships are only a symptom of the diseases I have festering from childhood wounds that never healed.
That is where I am beginning. Admitting I am powerless over the subconscious wounds of being raised in an abusive environment. My mental health focus is on healing those wounds.
I am not alone. *There are 35 million children who suffer from one or two types of childhood trauma. That number breaks me into tears. So many kids. So many of us still suffering as adults.
I’m not alone and perhaps by shedding light on my journey, it will help illuminate others with the gentleness and reassurance of a lantern in a misty darkness.
Will you join me on the journey as either spectator or survivor?