Surviving abuse

The abuse lasted 15 years and this is why my head is so messed up today. I was only a kid. I had no point of reference, I didn't know right from wrong. I didn't think my life was unusual because it was all I knew.

I won't recount what was done to me, this is not the place. If you want to have a glimpse, check the ACE (Adverse Childhood Experiences) scale: it ranges from 0 to 10 —0 being no form of abuse and 10 being the worst. A score of 4 ore more is considered very serious and at the source of long-term health effects in adult life.

I have a score of 8.

The wildest thing is that I only realised that I had suffered severe childhood abuse when I reached the age of 40. At which point my world collapsed.

But at the same time it expains so many things about my life up until then. Receiving a diagnosis on what I thought was just me being all fucked up, being able to put a name on it was a liberation:

PTSD, major depression and anxiety: this is what I had been suffering from.

Once I was able to put a name on what I was dealing with, things became clearer. I knew that the next thing to do was to fight, but I also knew that this is not the type of battle you can fight on your own.

So I reached out. I sought and found help, and I started to open up.

First was the anger Then the grief, the sense of loss And the shame, the guilt The pain, the sadness

It took me more than seven years to process this unhealthy mix of feelings and emotions. I learned to cope. I learned to deal with crises.

My life took a turn for the better.

With various therapists I have shared a lot of my hidden memories. It helped. There are however things I will never disclose to anyone, things so dark that they will forever remain sealed within. But it's OK now.

I am better equipped to face life. I feel much stronger overall, strong enough to deal with my demons.

I can stand on my own.
I am a survivor.