Abuse and Trauma Recovery | Childhood Abuse
Reclaim Your Life After Abuse With These 7 Steps
Leave your past in the dust and create a brighter future
I’ve been writing a series of autobiographical short stories here about the trauma and abuse from my childhood.
As a result, I’ve received a beautiful and deeply moving outpouring of love and support from my readers, with many offers of an ear or kind words of encouragement about getting through it. I love this community…so much kindness and generosity of heart and spirit.
It occurred to me that I need to be clear about something:
I’m not writing these stories to say “Poor me.” I’m not looking for sympathy (oh, dear Lord, no, thank you!). I don’t need an ear to listen or a shoulder to cry on.
If you’re worried that I’m in the throes of that darkness, I can assure you that I’m not. If I hadn’t moved past it many years ago, I couldn’t write about it like this, much less share it publicly.
The most intense part of my healing process took place in the late 1980s and early ’90s so it’s all good.
Sure, this sort of healing journey is a lifelong process in a quieter way. But I’m okay. None of this stuff disturbs me anymore. I view it as my education and training so my soul can fulfill its purpose in this life and help others with their suffering.
Before I tidy up a couple of loose ends with this, here’s Part 1 (a 3-minute read) that describes a defining moment in my life. It’ll help you make sense of what I’m about to say.
If you read the series, or even just the first few sections, you will understand the kind of damage my mother inflicted on my tender soul and why it has had a lifelong impact on me. I’m grateful that eventually, I found my way to healing the majority of the wounds I carried, although it remains a work in progress.
As I worked my way through my healing journey, I came to love and appreciate my mother. I don’t know if she ever truly loved me in return; she never said it until she had dementia, although she wasn’t sure who I was. At least she learned to respect me.
Or more appropriately, to respect my boundaries.
I don’t think she ever “liked me” — she certainly never made any effort to understand me and I railed against that for decades.
When finally, I accepted that we were just different and that she was who she was, and I am who I am, I let go of the struggle. I stopped trying to please her or to make her understand me or even just like me.
We managed to forge a nice relationship, if not a close one, and we were given several years to create happier memories.
It had been easier to make my peace with my father. In my teen and younger adult years, I thought I hated him. But it was really his drinking that I hated. That’s when his temper would flare. That’s when he would lash out and too often, I got the brunt of it.
It was during therapy that I remembered the good things he had occasionally said to me throughout my life. Once in a while, he would tell me that I was beautiful, that I was talented, or that I could be or do anything I wanted.
He hadn’t said those things often but he did say them. I suppose they got lost amidst the sea of awfulness to which my mother subjected me daily, leaving me feeling small, insignificant, stupid, unloved and unlovable.
With counselling, it didn’t take long for me to remember how dearly I loved and adored him when I was little — before it had all gone so horribly wrong for him — and for our family.
He and I managed to create a close relationship once I recognised all of that. And about ten years later when he knew he was nearing the end of his life, he said the only thing he wanted was for me to be with him when he departed this world.
I made sure to honour that request.
There were some intensely ugly incidents that unfolded as a result of my mother’s death a few years later. She reached out from beyond the grave for one last, brutal kick in the head, ripping open long-healed wounds in the worst way.
Once again, I found myself back on a more intense healing journey. If you read the series, at some point you’ll discover what that was about. At the time of this writing, I’ve only published stories of my childhood but will be adding to the series regularly.
For a peek at my relationship with my mother when I was a child, here’s a short read:
As for my brother…well, that’s another entire story within a story. He is also in spirit; I am the only one remaining in this life.
7 Steps To Help You Heal and Move Forward
In addressing all of this for those dear souls who were concerned about me, I realised that this was a perfect opportunity to share some specific steps that helped me move past the abuse.
And it needs to be said: You cannot do this on your own.
Professional counselling is essential. Find someone who is well-qualified and has an excellent reputation for these particular issues.
There is so much to learn and understand about relationship dynamics and control issues, power struggles, and a million other things…That foundation is necessary.
Then you can add other tools to assist in moving through the process of healing, such as the steps I’ll list in a minute.
There are some who believe that we choose our families and our challenges before we arrive on the planet. There are some who believe it’s all a bunch of randomness. And there are some who believe a bit of both. I suppose that’s my crowd.
I do believe that each of us has a purpose and I believe that mine is to assist others on their journeys. I don’t know if there’s “a reason for everything” or if we’re just supposed to find meaning in the tough stuff.
I don’t have any answers to the Big Questions.
But I do know it is possible to find happiness after enduring the pain that others have inflicted on you. It requires these steps:
- It’s essential to recognise that they are at least as wounded as you are. It’s important to look past the behaviour and although it can be tough, it’s in your best interests to find even a little compassion for the suffering that’s at the root of it.
- You must understand that their treatment of you isn’t about you; it isn’t because you’ve done anything to deserve it. You just happened to be the nearest target.
- Believe it’s possible to create a better life. If that’s a stretch, tell yourself several times a day that you are open to believing it’s possible.
- Have a relationship with your Self. Avoid romantic relationships for at least a couple of years. Yes, seriously. Give yourself time to absorb all you can about the complex dynamics of abuse and how it has impacted your life and relationships (of all kinds). Be alone with your thoughts. Journal. Dissect all that needs a thorough look. Trust me, this is one of the most important steps — and the most ignored one. People who ignore it end up right back in the soup (How do you think I ended up divorced six times??? Finally did this step for several years — Best. Thing. Ever.)
- Learn to let go of negative thoughts about yourself and the situation. When you notice them, STOP and choose more positive ones that will assist you in creating a more helpful mindset.
- Dose yourself up with positivity. Surround yourself with inspiring people. Watch inspiring videos. Read inspiring blogs and books. Avoid the Negative Nellies and conversations, situations and TV/films that are about miserable, toxic, distressing topics. This will help to raise your vibration and if you don’t believe in that stuff, consider that it’ll just darned well make you feel better.
- Forgive them. It doesn’t mean that what they did was okay. It just means you don’t want to hurt about it anymore.
Here’s a powerful article I wrote on that topic:
The bottom line is that it is possible to heal enough from abuse and trauma that you can leave it in the past and create a happier life.
I write about my experiences because I want others to know they’re not alone. I want them to hear from someone else who has been there, someone who understands and has come out the other side stronger, wiser, and even grateful for all of it.
Grateful? Yes, because it allows me to make a difference for those who are still “in it.” The challenges of my life led me to go back to school as a single parent and study social work. I became a hypnotist, and later a practitioner of alternative therapies.
My spiritual journey has been ongoing for decades and has been instrumental in putting all of this together and making sense out of the insanity that was my life.
Under all of it is my passion — my need — for writing. If there’s anything I can write that will help others, I’ll write it.
This is why I share my painful past. Not because it is still painful now — because it isn’t. But because someone out there is hurting. Someone out there needs to know this can get better.
Someone out there needs the new light of hope and if that’s you, I’m so happy that you found me.
If you’ve ever been in an abusive relationship and don’t understand how it happened, this is for you:
💜🍪🤗 Would you consider buying me a chocolate chip cookie, please? Your kindness helps me do what I do best: WRITE — and share my healing journey after childhood abuse and trauma, supporting those who are in recovery 🍪💜
Here’s a gift for you: Creative Healing: A 5-Step Guide to Getting Unstuck. It includes downloadable colouring pages! Yay!
©Liberty Forrest 2021 All Rights Reserved
