The Invisible Face Of Child Abuse
Becoming Vulnerable, Releasing Secrets & Setting Yourself Free
My Story Part 1
Hello Beautiful Souls!
I am so happy to be back after my surgery last Thursday. I had quite a bit of prayer time during recovery to think about what would be most helpful to share with you today.
It seems the podcast episodes you liked most were those dealing with the more difficult periods we face during our lives…dealing with the loss of a loved one, turning trauma into triumph, how to go through life transitions with grace and surprisingly, the highest podcast downloads came from the episodes where I tell a little of my story.
We are 23 episodes into growing together, so I thought I would combine some of the topics you downloaded most into a multi-part testament of my life story --the good, the bad, the triumphs, the tragedies, the waiting, God’s answers (even when they were no) and more…
I thought, the more I can make myself vulnerable with you, the more helpful I can be as you go through your walk. I want to let you know it is okay to set past ghosts free and make way for your best life –the life you were meant to have and are called to.
So, here goes. I will not make this blog extremely long since I know you are all busy and like to get lost in my blog for about 15 – 20 minutes before you return to your regularly scheduled day so, here goes. Today I’ll start with my childhood into my early college years.
I was born in a little town called, Deer Park in New York. My parents were first generation Italian Americans and I had 5 siblings – 4 brothers and 1 sister. We grew up rich in every way that did not cost money –we had a beautiful, close knit family (including grandparents we adored who lived around the corner from us), we were healthy, we entertained ourselves since we had each other as best friends and built in playmates, we went to good public schools, lived in a safe neighborhood and for me, I had God early on as a foundational part of my life.
This simple life was everything to me –there was so much happiness - family time filled with an abundance of love and, lots of laughter. My siblings and I would play in our backyard for hours, ride our bikes to our grandparents’ house, have family barbecues, take trips to the beach, enjoy our time with the relatives who came to our house or just let our imaginations run free catching fireflies in the backyard. It sounds idyllic doesn’t it. Well that part was.
Then, there were the difficult and scary parts. We had a dad who had PTSD – they just didn’t call it that at the time. He was a proud Korean
War Veteran serving our country and had come back from the war a different man. We had to get used to the craziness that surrounded the mental illness and all the abusive behaviors that came from it making our home life feel unsafe. Children are so impressionable. They not only sense what they experience but also, the energy of the environment in which they live.
For us, it meant, as much as we loved our home, most of us knew we had to escape this environment as much as we could.
For me and my brother John, the two middle children, we planned our escape from the time we were children. I was 4, he was 6. We would drive our little match box cars with our imaginary characters named Debbie and Gary respectively to our imaginary homes in Manhattan. We even had imaginary great careers.
I also had a place to reveal my feelings of worthlessness and not being enough in my diary which I started writing in at age 6. That was my safe place to reveal all the secrets we were not allowed to talk about in our home. You were not supposed to share those things and I would come to learn later in life, the patterns of abuse are perpetuated because we suffer in silence, alone and afraid. We are unsure of our voice –the very voice we would need to share these things to bring light to the darkness in which we lived.
In school, I was an over-achiever. You would never know anything was going on in my house. I was outgoing, excelled in all my subjects, I had lots of friends and had many after school activities I enjoyed. I received many accolades and awards during celebratory events which my mother proudly attended.
All looked good from the outside… and I somehow believed that if I could be really good at everything, my father would love me more and think I was good enough. I didn’t understand the way he treated me was a “sickness” and not anything that had to do with me. I internalized it which led my to very low feelings of self-worth.
And then, one day it happened. I had gone to school after one of those times dad hit me. I was a skinny little girl, so I was a little bruised. Because of this, I was embarrassed to get undressed in the locker room. So, I waited for all the other girls to go outside before I would change into my gym clothes alone. It was my gym teacher who noticed I was not outside and came in to see what was happening.
She was the first sympathetic adult I could talk to. She merely asked me if I was okay, and I started crying. I could no longer hold this secret and pain any longer. I remember that day like it was yesterday. She made me feel safe –something I did not feel at home with my father in the house. She suggested I see a school counselor. I was afraid to speak to the counselor. As all victims do, we place blame on ourselves. Somehow, I thought if I spoke to the counselor, I would get in trouble. I was afraid that I would get punished if my parents found out. And, in fear, I shut down again keeping my secrets and shame to myself.
The pattern would continue in high school. I would be an over-achiever, a top honors student in my class, class president, homecoming princess…it was my way of trying to feel a sense of worth and receiving consistent positive feedback and praise something I so desperately craved. My teachers saw something in me that I did not. They highlighted my gifts and talents which was not something often heard from my dad. It was usually criticism and yelling.
The thing I would come to learn about growing up in an abusive environment is how difficult it is to break those patterns and how much work it would take to learn to love myself and know my worth.
For the most part, my siblings were all still at home except my sister who smartly left early to escape the environment we grew up in. My middle brother would also leave for college and begin traveling the world not returning home.
I went off to a local college but lived in a dorm on campus. This allowed me to come home on weekends since I loved being with my family and grandparents.
I took a job as a waitress at a local restaurant near campus to help pay for my student living costs.
As a freshman, living away from home, it was my first taste of freedom, and I took advantage of being away from my father’s overly watchful eye.
I got into my first unhealthy serious romantic relationship. My boyfriend and I loved each other (whatever you think love is at 18) but I turned myself inside out to make sure he would always love me. I was afraid of “losing him” and I still had the “not good enough” mentality. I spent an inordinate amount of time at his house which was my safe place to escape when I would come home from college and my dad would act out. Of course, we would eventually break up.
Things were the same during my sophomore year.
Then came junior year. I was doing well academically, found a calling as a Resident Manager being a guide and big sister to all the freshmen women who were coming to our dorm (we had separate hallways in our dorm for college men) and during that time, I met a young man that would turn out to be one of the healthiest and best relationships of my life. How it happened, I don’t know but, it did. John and I met and there was such a balance of our energies. We also had a shared intellect, curiosity and sense of humor. Our symbiotic relationship extended to each other’s families, and I remember how lucky I felt because we were both so in love. The relationship was so peaceful and we were able to be our best selves.
Eventually, John and I would break up simply because life called us in different directions. He would go on to an incredible career in the navy and I would go on to study and live in Spain -one of the great experiences of my life which my middle brother as a young world traveler encouraged me to do.
Living in Spain was so amazing since I’d always had the desire to see the world, always loved language, culture and different people and couldn’t wait to go to Europe. Since we did not have money growing up, the biggest trip I had taken prior to this was a road trip with my cousin and her family from New York to Florida with stops along with way. It was exciting and frightening all at once since I lived with a Spanish family who did not speak a word of English, shared a bedroom with the grandmother and quickly learned the Advanced Placement Spanish you learn at school was not applicable at all to real life and it did not prepare you to live in a foreign country.
The first month I was there, I broke out in hives and had to go to the hospital since the academic pressures of studying with the brightest international students and living with a family with whom I had limited communication were too many new things for me to adapt to in a short period of time. All of it was out of my comfort zone.
Over time, I would overcome my fears since I was not a quitter and this became one of my treasured life experiences.
When I proudly graduated with high honors, I was speaking beautiful Castilian and I did not want to leave since I had now acclimated to this way of life that I so loved. Reality struck, I had to go home and start working so I could pay off all my student loans and earn money.
We will end part 1 of this journey here. In our next episode, I will share my early working years, the birth of the first children to my sister, my first home in NYC, the beginning of my world travels, the death of my brother, the death of my father and my long journey in therapy.
I hope you enjoyed this blog, and it gives you courage to release a past fear or shame that helped shape who you are today.
And, if you are so moved, please share your story in our private Facebook community: My Magnus Opus which is a safe community of like-minded life story tellers, learning to live their best lives and leaving a legacy for their children. You never know. Your share might be the one that touches the heart of another and gives her (or him) courage to address their own past.
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Until next time, I’m sending you so much love and light!
