My childhood wasn’t all bad, I had a lot of love but there was an equal amount of dysfunction. I experienced various forms of verbal, physical and sexual abuse from the people that are supposed to make you feel safe. It was not uncommon for me to be “walking on eggshells,” avoiding getting in the cross hairs or trying to get love and approval from one or both of my parents.
My survival mechanism was to try my hardest to be the peacemaker by making everyone else happy. I didn’t know how empathic I was or that I had a natural born instinct to nurture and heal others. I just knew I didn’t want the people I love to hurt or to fight.
At 18, I was ambushed and attacked by 6 girls from my high school. Their intention was to pin me down and cut all my hair off. Thankfully, I was able to defend myself enough for that not to happen, but I came away with deep emotional wounds.
That event lead me to completely disconnect from myself. I couldn’t understand what was so “bad” in me that would elicit that kind of violence. I was so desperate not to feel that I began drinking, smoking and overeating to numb myself.
Unfortunately, neither parent had the awareness to get me the help I needed, and it wasn’t until I had gained over 40 pounds that I sought out counseling through the University I was attending. I was able to get the help that I needed to stop self-abusing, but I still was hiding and unwhole.
I spent most of my 20’s and 30’s in dysfunctional relationships. I was simply going through the motions. I had a job that paid the bills, I had a boyfriend and I had friends but deep down I felt like there had to be more to life. I wasn’t unhappy but I wasn’t happy either. I began reading self-help books but never really was willing to “do the work.”
It took my mother being diagnosed with terminal cancer when I was 38, that finally woke me up to choosing real change. I was determined to honor my mother and our journey by becoming the best version of myself.
