The Pen and The Wind

The Deepest Wounds Are The Ones You Can’t See

An article I wrote for the nonprofit magazine I write for. I rather liked this one, so I’m sharing it. 

It’s always a little embarrassing having to explain that you’ve come from an abusive past. You can’t help but think people look at you a little with cautious eyes of skepticism and pity whenever you let that cat out of the bag. But it’s necessary, more often than not, because you’ve been more often than not left with some large scars, which slip through in your behavior.

I know all too well about the subject, because I came from an abusive home. Not physically, but emotionally and psychologically. It all came from my step father, a very unstable man who seemed to relish in tormenting and torturing me. My childhood with him was a series of mind games that never ceased. I was denied contact with the outside world until I was too unfamiliar with the most basic of social rules and protocols to really function in society. Any distraction and entertainment was stripped away, even culminating with me being forbidden to even read. I was constantly told how worthless I was, how I was a horrible, despicable human being, and this went on for years. (For my own sake, I shall not go into the full details of my abuse, far too many painful memories)

It’s no surprise that when I went out into the world by myself, there would be lingering damage. I could hear those years of insults whispering to me after every fault and screw up. I strain and struggle, putting on the best facade I could muster in any social situation. Inevitably though, I would make an accident or foul up far too large, and would have to reveal my embarrassing secret of abuse.

The most shocking thing I encountered was not the looks of judgment, disdain, and condescension, those were for the most part expected. What surprised me was the sheer lack of sympathy that revealing my past received. I’ve often thought that our world, and our society is for the most part far too shallow and lacking in the most basic human empathy, but to receive so little response after mustering the courage to reveal that part of my past to the world, it takes one by surprise. These people did not view me as a human being who had been though some of the worst that humanity has to offer and needed a bit of kindness and compassion to help back on their feet, but rather viewed me as a weaker member of the herd, and saw this weakness of mine as something to exploit.

The sad truth is, if you’re a victim of abuse, be it physical or emotional, a lot of people are simply not going to understand you. Like any person who has some trauma, you now live in a nearly entirely different world than most, as they can’t, and don’t even want to begin to understand what you’ve been through. You cannot put a whole lot faith in the every day crowd.

But, before you go thinking this ends on a sad tone, let me say there are people who can help you, and probably want to help you. Far too many people have gone through some abuse or another, and more often than not it leaves them with sympathy. They can relate to your pain, and know that what you need more than anything sometimes is a little kindness and understanding. These people can make a world of difference, I can speak from experience there. You can usually find support groups, message boards, or even blog groups of people who have been through similar experiences, and will welcome you to join them, because they want to help.

I’ve been out of my abusive household just about two years now, there is still some scar tissue, but I’ve healed considerably. I know that those whispered insults and mind games were the product of a sick mind, and that I didn’t deserve it. The path to healing can be a little treacherous, but the kindness and sympathy of others can help you get there all the easier. And if you haven’t been through any sort of abuse in your life, offer some kindness to those who have, its the least you can do, and it can make a world of difference.