I created Wandering Web Designer I had certain ideas in mind. Not only did I want to share my love of travel I also wanted to delve into the world of mental health. That’s not all the way true. I wanted to be able to have a safe space to speak my truths. An alter-ego of the businesswoman I have to be to run The Blogging 911 without making my clients feel that the faith they put in me is misplaced.
I also wanted to give others a safe space to write about their own experiences with mental health and/or trauma. I envisioned this giant circle of women who strived to heal. To share their healing (or inability to heal). I haven’t started with those real posts yet because of fear of judgment. That ends today.
For most of my life, I couldn’t speak my truth for fear of what it would do to my mother. The reason I feel this way is because of the way she dealt with it the first time I brought it up. She slapped me. I never brought it up again.
My mother was the tie that held my family together and when she died so did those bonds. Although it’s sad, it has also made me stronger. It’s made me finally want to deal with my issues and become the woman I know I could be if I could tackle my issues once and for all.
I’m not naive, I know it’s not like you can just flip a switch. It’s taken me years to be able to open the door and now I feel as I’m ready to turn on the light even if for now it’s only a flashlight. I’m tired of feeling like an imposter like I’m less than because of the sins of others.
The words that follow have never been written in any form before today.
From the time I was three years old I was molested and raped repeatedly throughout my life by multiple people.
People don’t like to think it can happen to their children. Yes it can. It’s their relatives, their parent’s friends, teachers, church leaders, bus drivers, doctors they’re everywhere. If you get a feeling about somebody follow your gut. It usually knows before anything else.
When I was 3 & 4 I was molested by a family member. I told my mom. The next time I was 7 and it was a neighbor when I was 11 it was one of my dad’s best friends when I was 12 I was raped by a school teacher who was driving our church bus. He pulled the bus over and raped me then went to deliver a sermon. Finally a man I babysat for raped me when I was 14.
At this point, I lost my dad who was my everything. I went to great lengths to hide my secrets. I couldn’t have bared to have him look at me and see the truth.
After he died I decided to gain my power the only way a 15-year-old can. I drank and self-medicated until I was numb and I gave away freely what others had taken.
It wasn’t until I met my second husband that I felt valued. That I was put on a pedestal. At first, I was suspect. I don’t trust easily, but he wore me down. He showed me over and over again that I was worth loving.
Then the guilt and self-doubt would come in because I thought if he really knew the truth… if he could truly see behind the mask…
He only gets to see the results, but he loves me anyway…more on that later…maybe.
Do you feel safe to speak your truths?
Saoirse Kennedy committed suicide at 17 years old and this quote by her has really stuck with me:
too often it feels as if I’m drowning in my own thoughts, while everyone else seems to be breathing comfortably.
Until next time…