From Childhood Abuse To Substance Abuse

This is a fragment of my story. As time passes, I may open up more about it. So it goes…

When I was a kid, I would be glued to the TV every time Mommy Dearest was on. It used to bring me so much comfort and solace knowing I wasn’t the only one going through that.

It wasn’t till years later that I realized the depths of this. I knew I was growing up in a toxic and dysfunctional home. But at the same time, it was normal for me because it was my life. I also never understood the repercussions, how deeply it would impact me and define my character.

My biological father was a physically abusive alcoholic and the last time I ever saw him, he was getting arrested. My mom called the cops on him for being drunk, which later became a story my mother would weaponize against me.

As for my stepfather- he worshiped the ground my mother walked on, so he didn’t just enable the abuse. He participated in the debauchery. And even after their divorce, he remained loyal to her lies.

The times I tried to speak out would lead to gaslighting, blame shifting, diminishing or flat out dismissing the trauma, or even physical abuse. And if I tried to talk to other people about what was going on at home, my parents already had me beat. The smear campaigns were long in the works, so no one believed me.

This went on well into my adult life. I eventually stopped talking about it because I didn’t see a point- either no one was going to believe me or they were going to guilt me into the whole, “but that’s your family” speech.

As a kid, I learned quickly to live in the shadows because if no one saw or heard me, then nothing could harm me. Out of everything that’s happened, that was one thing that took a really heavy toll on me- I betrayed my own sovereignty so many times for fear of getting physically, emotionally, verbally attacked, or even being left for being myself.

When I turned 22, I started drinking more. Instead of having an occasional glass of red wine with dinner or sake with sushi, I started drinking during happy hour, and needed night caps before going to sleep.

I knew the drinking was escalating to the point of it being problematic, but I was functional. Besides, drinking helped me to feel everything and nothing. At least, that’s how I used to rationalize it.

I was able to validate my experiences when I was drunk because in those moments, it was safe for me to get angry and cry. Showing those emotions when I was sober was forbidden.

The drinking also helped to numb the effects of the abuse. And it turned off the past dialogue- “Your father left because he didn’t love you. I should have had an abortion,” amongst other words that weren’t exactly meant to empower me.

It gave me liberation from myself. I felt safe when I drank. When I was sober, I was plagued with emotional and physical flashbacks, panic attacks, anxiety, and suicide ideation.

I even attempted suicide, hoping death would be the answer. Because it meant I didn’t have to suffer through the pain of living. And I wasn’t even ashamed for attempting suicide. I was ashamed because I was still living.

The relationships I found myself in weren’t any better from my childhood. They were a reflection of my parents’ personalities, and at one point, everything I thought I needed. Sometimes I would get so creeped out because someone would pronounce a word with the exact same drawl my parents would use for that word, or they would say the same phrase in the exact same tone, or they would guilt me into something the way my parents did.

I didn’t understand at the time that my brain and nervous system had become so dysregulated that I was gravitating towards what was familiar. And it bothered me. No matter how many times I tried to break a cycle, I’d find myself in the exact same cycle with a different person.

So I carried on like a dead woman walking, blaming myself for everything that happened. I didn’t see fault in the ones who harmed me, only myself. That spiraled deeper into shame which led me to drinking myself into oblivion.

There was a tiny, conscious part of me that knew there was a purpose to all of this. I mean, there had to be. But I couldn’t see it. The pain was like a shield, blinding any clarity from shining through.

Then a date with fate on 9/5/16 was my moment of surrender. With nothing and no one, not even AA, I got sober. But I knew I was being guided every step of the way by the unseen forces.

In this somewhat chaotic and sometimes messy unfolding, I reconnected to the parts of myself I abandoned, found the parts of myself I thought I lost, and rewrote the stories I wanted to change. Now, I’m here to help you rewrite your story one breath at a time.

I’ll see you soon…in the meantime, love yourself so much that even a Hallmark Christmas movie would be jealous.