I remember very little about my childhood. And maybe that’s a good thing. But I do know this for sure. I lived in a lot of fear growing up. And I experienced and saw more than any child should ever have to.
I was terrorized in my own home. I learned the meaning of survival at a very young age.
My father was an alcoholic. And he drank almost every day to get drunk. And when he was drunk, he became a monster. My daddy. His personality changed drastically from someone who barely spoke to me when sober, to one who was loud and abusive when drunk. I didn’t want my friends to know. I was too scared to have anyone over in case they found out my secret.
I lived in a very chaotic environment. I had no idea what to expect from one day to the next. If my father decided to drink, then my entire family felt it. And my life was turned upside down on that day. I saw things a little child should never see. I saw my father turn into a crazy monster several times a week. And I was petrified. And I couldn’t possibly understand what was going on.
And I was sexually abused by my father. The monster. My daddy. No child should ever have to experience that. No child should ever have to experience the sheer terror of my upbringing. So I forgot it all. I had to in order to survive.
It was just too painful to remember. So I closed myself off from the rest of the world. I couldn’t trust anyone.
And my own mother knew. But she offered no support. My mommy. She sided with the monster. Why wouldn’t she help me? Why didn’t she stop him? This was too much for a child to bear alone. No child should ever have to experience that. Children are supposed to be carefree, happy and protected. I was none of those. I was just trying to survive.
I was too little to comprehend any of this. So I hid it all away. Far away. I shoved all my horrible memories and emotions down with food as I grew older. It was my drug of choice. I needed to numb out in order to survive. I wanted to keep my past hidden. I didn’t want to remember. It was just too painful.
Until finally, my emotional triggers became unbearable as an adult. My food and coping skills no longer worked in the adult world. I knew I needed help. I became desperate for someone to understand me because I couldn’t.
I knew deep down that something was wrong with me. Terribly wrong. And I desperately wanted to find out what it was because I wanted to do more than just survive.
I wanted to find the real truth behind my emotional triggers. I wanted to know why people made me angry all the time, why I distrusted everyone and why I felt so depressed. I wanted the stories in my head to go away. I wanted my anxiety to leave. I hated living just to survive. I wanted to escape somewhere so I didn’t have to feel again. Ever.
But that’s exactly what I had to do. I needed to feel again. I needed to feel what my little girl couldn’t feel a long time ago because she was too little. She was just trying to survive. And she did. And now I want to show you how I did it. In sharing my story, I want to show you how you, too, can find your truth behind your emotional triggers. I want to help you feel again.
