5 year old me was invincible. She was full of life and happy.

Her mind wasn’t clouded with self-judgment, and she most certainly didn’t care what others thought of her.

Her smile would light up a room. Her laugh was contagious, and boy did she love to laugh.

She was pure, honest, and entirely unaware of what life would do to her sweet spirit.

I don’t remember much before my 5th birthday. The memories I do, live on a foggy timeline.

Moments of enjoyment mixed with moments where all I wanted to do was disappear.

Looking back after gaining clarity there was always some form of abuse or neglect.

Sharp words leave internal bruises that take much longer to heal than those inflicted by hands.

This formidable time is when I learned that being loved meant you had to appear perfect.

I couldn’t ever question those in authority or have thoughts and ideas.

Do exactly as you were told or be beaten and shunned. Spoken to and made to feel like my very existence was a burden to those entrusted with my care.

My reality as a young person may have been dark, but I tried to never let that dim the light I had inside.

Running from my emotions and stuffing the pain slowly caught up with me. Oozing out into my life like slime through your clenched fist.

I couldn’t fit into the box that society required. I was exhausted most days from things I had to endure at home.

I couldn’t concentrate. I spent most of those days writing and dreaming of the day I would be able to run away from the life I had been born into.

I played the part for so long. ‘ALWAYS be a good girl.’

I silenced myself at the expense of myself out of fear of retaliation from others.

I learned how to be different versions of myself, as a form of self-protection.

My smile became my armor.

No one knew or questioned the truth as long as that smile hung on my face.

Inside, I was broken.

Dark.

Cold.

Craving time, attention, and affection from those who told others they loved me.

Holding on to anger is like grasping a hot coal with the intent of throwing it at someone else; you are the one who gets burned.

Buddha

Intelligent people say to speak your truth. If those who hurt you don’t like what you have to say, they should have thought about their actions before they committed them. Or at least apologize once they knew how those actions hurt you.

Here’s a hard life lesson that some learn too late.

*Broken people, hurt people*

It costs absolutely nothing to be kind to others.

Please check yourself.

Try not to allow your actions to hurt those around you.

You never know what battles they are fighting inside.

The person behind that smile may be walking a tightrope over a pit of darkness.

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The World Health Organization estimated in 2019 that there were 301 million people affected by anxiety and only 5% of the global population are affected by depression.

I call BS.

Those numbers are of the brave souls who spoke up and asked for help. So many are too afraid to speak out due to the drastic life changing consequences that would happen if they did.

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Physical, emotional, and psychological abuse kept me silent for far too long.

I am no longer bound by the chains of the experiences of my past.

I will continue to speak out for those who can’t use their voice in hopes it will give them the strength to start.

Stick around we have only just scratched the surface.

– May my writing haunt those who have abused me-