Abuse

Abuse. Such a heavy word. Even though we all may have been spanked or yelled at, you felt it in the pit of your stomach when it crossed the line. "Stupid." "You can't ever do anything right." Or the Proverbial unexpected slap for the look you had on your face; the feeling in the pit of your stomach when you came home and the screen was locked, and you knew that meant you were going to be beat; living in terror day in and day out; hurting, yet so numb that you can no longer cry, scream, or run; you ball into a fetal position, try to protect your face from the blows and and waiting for the rage to end.

I don't like thinking about those years from 10-16 years old. It was the best of times. The worst of times. I hid what was going on from everyone but my best friend Christina Hodge. I was dressed so nicely, my hair always done, I had the latest gadgets and trinkets.... But I lived in silent terror. School was my out, my chance to be free. But my home may as well have been Amityville Horror for how I felt getting off the school bus. Seventh grade was especially rough. I didn't get it much that year but my youngest brother did. He was a bed wetter who was punished every morning before school for his trangression. Those scenes will never leave my mind. I can still see his four year old eyes looking up at me saying "Help me. Do something." But I couldn't.

It took years of forced counseling in college to be able to admit that it was Abuse. I got in a fight with "Little Wendy" and the administrators at Vassar gave me the option of counseling to get at the root of my "anger issues" or I would be expelled. "I'll take counseling for $500 Alex." In counseling, I made excuses, just like it was easier to say "he took it too far" than to say "rape." But my therapist was determined to get beneath the tough exterior and get to the pain. When I begin to tell her about my childhood, she said: "You were abused." I didn't believe her for a long time. But one day I said it, "I was abused." Naming what happened to you helps you reclaim your power. There wasn't anything more you could've done to stop it; you couldn't have been more pretty, more smart, more quiet, more better-nothing. It say it wasn't you fault. It was a decision someone else made that hurt you. I've lived as damaged goods for so long, because children of abuse become silent complicitors in the shame, guilt and rage cycle of the abusive parent. For years I told myself it was my fault because it's easier to think I can change my behavior and stop the abuse than to surrender to the fact that it was inevitable. But as a pre-teen, instead of internalizing the abuse and trying to change, I began to rebel. If I'm so bad, and I'm going to get in trouble anyway, I might as well earn some of these thrashings! Rebellion is so ingrained that at times I have rebelled without even knowing why. Rebel without a cause. But I have learned to appreciate authority (well, at least I'm working on it). And to have knowledge and wisdom to know when to follow someone and when to do my own thing.

Abuse hurts. And children of abuse must acknowledge the abuse without hating or demonizing the abuser; grieve for the loss of safety and security you experienced as a child; and make a conscious effort to work towards your own healing. the Bible says "Physician, heal thyself." There is nothing wrong with therapy, or getting the aid of a life coach (I'm available) to get you through the hump. I am a parent who has crossed the line with my children soI know how easy it is when thats all you know. But when I hit them in anger, I was transparent with them about my past, I cried out for help, asked for forgiveness, made changes and witnessed reconciliation. We need to be healed. Whether you experienced physical, emotional, or sexual abuse the pain won't go away by itself. The scars are there and may be evident to everyone but you. For years people have wondered, "why is she so smart, yet self destructive, rebellious, can't pass the bar, divorced, can't keep a job?" Hopefully by showing you my scars, I'm opening the bandages so these wounds can get some much needed fresh air and finally

Heal and Close.