They don’t understand, they’ve never seen my pain; I have no visible scars. They don’t know how I used to cry every day.
I was 16 when I realised that I couldn’t remember the last day that went by when I didn’t cry and feel utterly miserable and unhappy.
I overdosed out of depression for something to change, for someone to notice, for someone to help me. No-one did, so I did it myself. I made it possible for me to leave.
No-one knows how I struggled.
No-one believed that my family were not there for me.
No-one helped me to survive; I did it myself. I just clung to the belief that there was more to life than what I already knew, somewhere out there was a whole world of better things for me.
Even in therapy, only the people who were there with me know what it’s really like – the pain, the terror, the blood, sweat and tears, the rage of helplessness and fear. No-one saw me come home and cry and beat my fists on the furniture.
People don’t understand how terrifying it feels to release that rage.
I felt like I was made up of pieces from other people – my Mum, my step-Dad, my brother, my Grandparents, other people’s expectations. There was no “Naomi” underneath it all, just an empty space. I would be nothing at the end of all this exorcism.
No-one really knows just how hard it was to keep going back to therapy every week, to keep struggling, to face reality in all its harshness, to accept that my Mum and Dad did not, and do not, love me. If they don’t love me, who will??!!
If my own mother hates me, I must be bad, because every mother loves her kids, right? (wrong!)
No-one saw me shake and cry and scream and hurt. Can anyone see me hurting??
People see me surviving, living, coping, paying the rent, the bills, keeping house, working, studying. Naomi the student, Naomi the professional, Naomi the home-owner, Naomi the car driver. Successful Naomi, achieving Naomi.
No-one sees how much I struggle inside to make it, to get there on my own.
No Mum or Dad to turn to for comfort when things go wrong, when bad things happen, as they do. No brother or sister for company, support, encouragement, understanding. No-one to find me if I fell down the stairs and died. Would anyone care if I did??!!
It’s hard, so very hard, but I made it.
I am intelligent, I am resourceful, I am successful, I am attractive, I am liked and cared about by other people. People who now show me they care. People who stick by me when bad things happen. People who like me and love me even when I’m in a bad mood or do things they don’t like. People who respect me, who can see my strength of character and my goodness and tell me so.
Now I’m seeing it in myself, believing it in myself, feeling it inside. I feel good, strong, able, proud of whom I am and what I’ve achieved. I look in the mirror and I like what I now see.
I don’t feel defective, damaged, bad or dirty anymore.
I am unique, special, whole and wholesome. I am “Naomi”. I know I can survive anything. I believe I deserve it when good things happen to me and I know it’s not personal when bad things happen, because they happen to everyone sometimes.
Most of all now, I believe I am not like my mother and I will not damage or hurt my children like she did.
I have had the courage to heal the sickness inside me. To rid myself of the shame and blame and guilt that was never mine anyway.
My children will know they are loved, that they are valuable human beings with feelings and rights. They will know that no-one has the right to use or abuse them or make them do horrible things that they don’t want to do. They will grow up respecting themselves and their bodies. They will grow up surrounded by love and friendship, support and guidance, help and understanding.
They will never have to suffer the way I have suffered because the chain of abuse stops with me and is now broken. I hope they will inherit my strength of character and then they can be and do anything they choose to.
I miss my Mum. It is a gap in my life that cannot be filled. She is poisoned by buried guilt, shame, blame and hatred.
Her vision is clouded by years of fear and rage and unexpressed grief.
She is where I would be if I had not gone into therapy. That’s why I am so grateful now that I did it. “You get back what you put in”. I am living proof of that and it feels so good!!!
Yours with love and fellowship, hang in there, it is worth it!!