Short story of abuse, and living through it....I'm still alive
Abuse, My Short Story
It started when I was a little child at the age of five years old and continued throughout my life over and over until I got smart enough to become a recluse. This action was the smart thing to do I think because it allowed me to start to feel safe for the first time in my life.
As a child and an adult, I was relocated twice when the police were involved, all the abuses were not reported though. I got to the point of being too scared to speak and tell anyone of such a thing because I was ashamed and didn't want anyone to know. It was too embarrassing to me for anyone to know. I know now it wasn't my fault, but at the time I thought that I " must" have done "something" to cause this to happen, and I just couldn't face people if they knew.
The bruises, broken bones, cuts, and everything else that came with it healed. Outwardly that is, but the scars and painful memories will never heal. They never do completely, as time goes by and you've become a hermit the memories get forced to the back of your mind. This is the only way that you can go on with your life. I know first hand of this. I still have nightmares on occasion because of the abuse. They say that " time heals all wounds "..... but I say with time, it becomes a bad memory that never goes away. It stays at the back of your mind where you forced it to go, but always haunting you at the first signs of the same action that you may witness, hear or experience again.
So you begin to stay away from anything that you may think will cause these memories to resurface. Anything can trigger these memories, such as seeing or hearing a child or adult being abused. It all comes rushing back as if it happened yesterday. So you become a prisoner of your own home and in your mind as well. Always too scared to live life, too scared to trust enough to make friends. This is just a little piece of this ' story '... with more to come.