I was abused, but not in an obvious way. My friends cared for me, my family loved me, I even liked myself at times. My abuser was not always seen. They stripped through my defenses, under the noses of my parents who tried so hard to keep us safe. My abuser belittled me, told me I wasn't good enough, I had to do better, be the good girl everyone expected me to be. I needed to be quieter, smarter, friendlier, and tougher; everything I was, I needed to be more. They would yell at me at night, tell me all the things that could go wrong, how I messed up that day and how my life needed to be on track 100% of the time. There was no room for average, for not having a plan.
In the mornings, I would wake up to bruises and scratches up and down my legs as the nightmares tore holes in my memory, in my emotions, and now my skin. My abuser would be kind some days until the throbbing and the pressure of my head caused them to turn and scream at me to stop my crying and work harder than I already was. They would tell me not to bother anyone, do not tell my parents because they already had so much to deal with. They threatened me with sleep - made it seem like sweet relief, but they only wanted my guard down further to hear my cries and internal screams, admitting that I was nothing but a disappointment.
My abuser was myself. I caused my own emotional issues, caused my own mistrust and lack of reliance on others. I beat myself up over everything for so long I became my own silent abuser that no one could see. I can build up my friends, give advice everyone seems to love, but I cannot break free from the abuse that has continued to haunt me all these years. I still struggle with keeping calm, keeping the tiny voice that tells me I need to quit, that there is nothing in this life for me to do except what is laid out in front of me – what is part of that tidy-perfect plan they made for me - quiet and tucked away where none can see the ugliness of my abuser.
Now 21-years-old, my abuse is quieter and less prone to physical attacks. However, there are nights and days when they want nothing more than to see me break, to cry and beg for acceptance of everyone because I could not accept myself. I still stay awake at night, avoiding sleep until it just washes over me like a tidal wave and I am drowned under it. These days, I can swim my way to the surface, but it is those nights when I am dragged deeper I find myself screaming and waking to another day of pretend.
I was and still am my own abuser. I realize now that the only acceptance I need is from myself and I am still on the long road to recovery. I realize not all abuse comes from another individual or even a group. They say we are our biggest critic and they have no idea how bad it can get. It is ok to strive for greatness, to get down on yourself for a bad grade. Just do not let the fear of failure destroy you because you are beautiful and wonderful. You are alive and thriving.
I know more now than I did twenty minutes ago when I started this. I did not realize how bad I allowed the abuse to get before it started to affect my relationships and attitude. It is ok not to know right now, where you might end up. There is no grand plan or blueprint for life. You make the most of what you have and you never stop aiming forward – you’ll find your way soon enough.
