Overcoming Childhood Hurts

Hi there! Thank you so much for checking my blog.In all honesty, I’m grateful that you are here. I’m hoping that this post will help you in some way shape or form. Although I can not change my past (or yours), I choose to share my story in hopes to help anybody else who’s been through something similar or has experience some form of childhood hurt to heal from.

If I were to go back in time and meet that little girl who was once me, I would tell her this. I know that you hate this, I know it makes absolutely no sense and goes against everything you know to be right. I know you feel betrayed and I know you feel absolutely alone but I promise you that it will get better. I can’t promise you that those who hurt you will change but you will get through this and you will survive. This is what I would tell her and this is what I would tell you if you right here with me, as we shared the hurts that we went through. You didn’t choose this life and by no fault of your own you are here, but I promise you it gets better.

I am the oldest daughter to a very hard working mother. I love that woman to pieces. She taught how to be resourceful and to survive when the world knocks you down. She also taught me to be very critical and skeptical. But if anyone could make a joke out of a horrible situation, she could.

As a kid we moved around a lot, and I mean A LOT! I went through 13 different schools and never stayed at a school longer than a year or two. Two years was the maximum until I got to high school. My childhood friend is my little sister. Aside from her I haven’t known anyone from my childhood. I don’t have many friends. In fact, I don’t do well with friendship. I mistrust very easily and I’m always collecting data. Well, I used to until I met my husband. I’m better now.

I’m not afraid of losing material things. That’s because I lost everything once. It’s weird because you have these materials things that have a special meaning to you but then you lose it and a part of yourself goes with it. Once I lost that part of me, I knew I couldn’t hang on to anything. I no longer wanted to be attached to anything.

I have a very critical internal dialogue and at times it can be toxic. I’ve been able to dial it down lately but it’s work. I know it stems from my childhood. I don’t think people realize that one of most damaging things you can do to a person is to mess up their internal dialogue. What you say out of anger, whether you meant or not, can seriously damage an individual. One time, I remember being told at the age of 6 that sometimes I make it hard to be loved. I’m 33 and I’m still bothered by it and the worst part is I don’t even know what I did to get that reaction.

I’ve forgiven the person but the memory still hurts. I’ve carried that around for years, shutting people out and just being a very mean person. I didn’t want anyone to get too close because at the end of the day I thought I was hard to love. Those words were on a silent replay in my head.

I have a hard time spending time, energy and money on myself. I recently spent $150 on an outfit while on the verge of having a panic attack. I felt like a sinner splurging on such frivolous vanities. You see, growing up I was always rewarded for accepting the cheaper option. I often said yes when I wanted to say no. I said I liked it when I sincerely hated what was given to me. I was trying to do my part in sustaining the home. If money could be saved wasn’t it my job to make it happen?

Society loves to paint women as strong if they can internalize everything without speaking about it. Without sharing it and without getting the proper healing from their childhood hurts.

To some people, I know my experiences may seem shallow. Here I am talking about moving a lot, buying cheap and some hurt words. But trauma isn’t defined by a society. It’s defined by an individual’s interpretation of an event. Often that event will lead that individual to create some toxic patterns in terms of their behaviour.

I had my first panic attack, when I saw domestic abuse displayed in my face. I had no one to help or guide me through it. Until this day, it’s a joke that is told in my family. I don’t think anyone every really understand what I experienced. I felt cast aside. I needed somebody to come to me and to tell me that everything was going to be ok. I remember the days I would go to school without a lunch and not one soul noticed. I did that and nobody told me everything would be ok. I remember giving up my dreams to be the “good” girl and still nobody told me everything would be ok.

I’m still overcoming those hurts. I still grieve but this time I get to change the narrative for my girls. I get to be the anchor I needed. No matter how rough things get, I know I won’t have all the answers but I can tell them that everything will be ok.

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