No One Knew/The Memories

To understand how I fight my battle you must know a piece of what I have gone through. My mom, dad, and step-mom never knew that I was abused until a few years ago. To bring it up in casual conversation isn't an easy thing to maneuver. It's scary telling people the truth because then it changes what people think of you whether you like it or not, or for good or bad. Many people's image of me has been change by coming into the open. 

I have finally felt freedom like never before. It's terrifying and yet so joyful. I know it's part of my healing process to write about my story and also help others along my way. 

I have a very skewed image of what my childhood was. I have very few memories of my childhood. Compared to the 'normalish' person that can pull up Christmas memories or memories of happy times, I can't. I have no way to recall memories I want and no control of pulling up memories I have no desire to remember. God gives abused children the most beautiful gift, the gift to blank out traumatic events. I always hated that I couldn't remember things until about a month ago when I realized how protected I have been. The most I can remember without severe skewing is my dad and step-mom, Jodi's, house. I remember it the most clear and also the happiness of my grandparent's house. Other than that I have glimpses of memories that come to me in time. 

Memories that come in moments when I am driving in the car not listening to the radio or moments when everything is quiet. In fact, while writing this, this is the first time I have ever figured out this is when memories come to me. I never have quiet. I always fill my car with music, books on tapes, or talks. In the morning I can't stand the quiet I have to watch food network shows to fill the blank air. While my husband drives I have to spend endless amounts of time scrolling through Facebook. I can't have silence because that's when the memories come back. I literally put up a wall against the fear and numb from silence. 

As I have learned from Brène Brown you can't numb the fear and anger without numbing the joy. Now finally realizing where I numb and specifically why I numb, I need to figure out how to change it. I must "lean in" to my fear to help me find my joy. 

The abuse in my past still lingers through the abuse I give myself today. The dreaded shame and thoughts of perfectionism that swarm me constantly. The pain of never being enough bombards me daily. I'm getting there though. I can recognize the triggers when they happen and I'm beginning to walk through them. 

This weekend is an example of a very specific trigger. I was already to leave for an activity. I had the diaper bag ready to go, the dozens of cookies I had carefully made. I had told Jaren I was ready. As he comes in from mowing the lawn he tells me that he's going to drop me off and get his hair cut, he would only be gone a few minutes. In my mind we were already late and there it was, I was triggered. I became so upset beyond reason. I didn't even know why I was mad. I literally had lost my thinking process to the point I couldn't handle him changing the plan. After my sweet husband let me "freak out" to put it kindly, for a good while. I finally became somewhat reasonable again. A symptom of abused people is  triggers, when a situation goes from a level 3 to a level "oh my gosh the house is burning down we are all gonna die!" He talked everything through with me. Not only was I abused as a child, I was also in an abusive relationship for a while.  His comment to leave me alone had triggered me back to situations with my ex. I was panicked that he didn't care about me, that he didn't love me, and that I wasn't good enough. Luckily we came to that conclusion and I was able to calm down. 

Talking through things is extremely important to me or I will just shut down. Does this happen this well every time I am triggered? No. Are we getting somewhere? Yes. I'm so lucky I have a patient husband. I'm also grateful I have a place to write to say what I'm feeling. To know I am not alone in this process. 

No one knew I was abused then, now everyone does. That's part of my fight to not hold my fear in anymore.