Acknowledging that childhood abuse (physical or mental) fucked you up is very different from overcoming it. Everyone approaches trauma uniquely because it is an independent experience. No one can truly understand your trauma because it belongs to you. It is painted in colors singular to your heart and mind, and everyone that views it has their own interpretation.
Some choose to dwell in their lived experiences. They reminisce, prodding old wounds until the scabs fall away and fresh blood pools to the surface. They dig deeper into their misery and the pain that makes them feel alive as if they've forgotten there are other ways to experience intense emotions.
Others may recognize that it exists, but instead choose to ignore its existence. They lock it away, bury it deep, and throw away the key. That is not who they are, nor does it have any significant baring on who they have become.
While some may think the latter option would be the better of the two, it is more like looking at a silhouette rather than a beautiful portrait full of detail and clarity.
Forgetting that you have suffered would be like an architect intentionally forgetting to put lights in the living room. You try to control that room, placing candles in safe places, but the illumination is dim, and some friends and family are more blind than others. They stumble through the dark, bumping into things, accidentally creating new bruises and hurts, breaking things they didn't know existed, never knowing or understanding why.
Sometimes, there are glimmers of understanding. Recognition of what is going wrong, but it is like staring at a leak with no tools, and no knowledge of how to fix the pipes. For those that dwell, rust and water damage accumulates, inviting mold and sickness. For those that forget, the pressure builds at these weak spots until they burst and the damage is too great to simply repair.
Long have I stared at these pipes. I have studied their weaknesses. Patched them with plumber tape, and prepped with towels, but the crux of the matter remains hidden. In some rooms I have candles, and in others the lights are always on, welcoming guests, and like a good hostess, I guide them away from the candlelit rooms. I don't want to talk about those. A trusted few have candles of their own, so that they understand and can better navigate the shadows, but the light flickers, and the glow only extends a small distance.
After all, trust is a different battle all together.
We all live in broken houses. You are not alone in your trauma. You can't undo what has been done. Like a chemical reaction, the change is irreversible. Accept the damage. It's already done. Time to start repairs. You are not responsible for causing the damage, but only you can get your 'house' repaired.
You are not alone.


















