A Different Kind of Abuse

We get so used to seeing childhood trauma through one particular lens, but there are many--often insidious--ways to experience abuse.

When I became a mother at 32, I was petrified because I still didn’t have my life all together. Not at all. And I didn’t have great parenting role models growing up since both of my parents battled mental illness and neither one was particularly open or proactive about getting help for their emotions.

My pregnancy was filled with severe depression and anxiety. I envied women who were able to celebrate the lives growing inside them and feel excitement for their future. I didn’t. My partner left me very early on, I was unable to work, and I didn’t belong with anyone.

Never really having had a great support system, I spent most of those months with strangers. Suicidal ideation was a daily struggle and I wished that I would die suddenly and accidentally so I wouldn’t have to keep trying to hang on when happiness was so far out of reach.

The only thing that kept me going was reading about attachment theory and parenting with empathy. I was so scared about how I would cope as a single mom without family or friends to truly lean on, yet there was something about this idea that I could do something to help spare…