CHILD ABUSE | RELATIONSHIPS | HEALING
It Took Me Years To Quiet the Echo of My Mother’s Sneering Voice
Her cruel words kept me small and silent far too long
I was in my 30s before I had any inkling that I wasn’t worthless. That I might have some value. The concept had never crossed my mind. Not until I was in the office of a psychologist who was helping me unravel the incredible mess I’d made of my life. And why.
As he probed gently for information about my background, the memories began to surface. Softly at first, a whisper, a hint, a snippet that I could face. He must have guessed the moment at which I was could handle his quiet question. “You know you’ve been abused your whole life, don’t you?”
I’ve been — what? No. I didn’t know that at all. I thought all families were like that. With one word, everything I’d known was blown to smithereens.
I was more than a little fragile. And completely unprepared for the onslaught of acid memories that would erupt without warning.
Intending to keep me, my 15-year-old birth mother looked after me for a while before I was taken from her and put into foster care. I would have bonded with at least one foster mother before being adopted months later. Already having had “mother…
