If I were to tell someone I was abused, I feel at first they would not believe me. They would demand to see the bruises, read the proof, look at the prescription.
But one thing society does not understand is that emotional and psychological abuse doesn’t have a word-for-word textbook definition. It can vary from person to person. What may be traumatic for one, may be harmless to another.
It’s because of this very concept that I’m lacking the help I need. I’m having to help myself deal with the burdens I can hardly even carry. Reminding myself that “I’m safe.” and there’s no way that they can get to me anymore is draining and exhausting.
My own parents would laugh at the idea of my suffering. I hate the thought but it’s how I feel. They would say, “but it’s been so long. you need to get over it already. it’s fine.” but what is it they don’t understand?
Forget the rhyme of “sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.” Words go deeper than any cut, actions linger than a broken bone, so why can’t they for once open their eyes and see that their daughter is broken inside?
Can they not see past my smiles and happiness? Even a happy person has scars too. Even a confident soul has burdens to carry. No one escapes from that fact of life.
I’m the happiest I’ve been in my life after I left you. But the things you did to me still hurt. And just because I’m the best I’ve ever been, does not mean I’m excluded from pain, and denied help.
it’s annoying and frustrating to be struggle with anxiety over something your family will just tell you to move on from. it’s easier said than done, it’s not like I can move out of my own mind.