I Was ‘Abused’
The problem with having a victim mentality when you aren’t really a victim
I haven’t forgotten the day. My dad glared at me, then threw the door stop across the room. He stormed out and that was it. The next day, he acted normal.
I was accustomed to such volatile cycles. Things had been bad for a while. I had learned to survive in an environment where authority was paramount. My mom would get mad at me too and raise her voice. One day she even raised her hand. Although she didn’t slap me physically, the damage was done. And that hurt worse.
There were other episodes of which I’ll spare you. Thankfully, I was gone a large portion of the day. School was a refuge from the strife, even though I still feel under-educated. I guess shipping me off on a bus every day was easier than being a parent. I found solace in my friends and teachers. They couldn’t imagine what went on at home.
And then there was the abuse I suffered at the hands of boys who took advantage of me. Left on my own with them from a young teenager, I still bear the scars of sexual abuse.
To this day, I battle depression from my upbringing.
STOP.
Let me tell you about the story I wrote above. It’s true. Partly. I left out a bunch of truth too, which…
