TRIGGER WARNING: This post deals with an account of physical abuse and may be triggering to some people.
“There remains what seems to be an impenetrable wall of silence around violence, and we must all play a role in breaking this silence.” ~Reese Witherspoon
The other day my brother sent me some rare old photographs of my family. In the middle of those aged images, I found a picture of a seven-year-old girl, so cute! She was wearing two perfect long braids and a smile. Oh, the smile of this lovely girl!
There was also an image of a man sitting down on the sofa, holding a baby in his arms, showing off a big, round, happy face. The man looked loving, respectful, and good to be around. “What a beautiful family!” you would say.
But for me, the one who lived the story behind the pictures, it’s a different feeling. We all know that nothing is what it seems to be, yet we choose to believe in appearances. I guess it’s easier to believe in what we see instead of going deeper.
I wasn’t expecting to receive these pictures on my phone, so when I saw the man’s image, my heart started automatically racing, my hands sweating. He passed away long ago, but my body still remembers my automatic response whenever I heard, saw, or even imagined he was near.
He was actually not a nice person to have around, but you already saw this one coming, didn’t you? I made myself stare at his picture until the feeling faded away. I no longer fear him, but I couldn’t help but get triggered. It was a long time since I’ve seen an image of him.
The last time I saw him, it was in a dream. Not so long ago, I used to have nightmares almost every single night, where he would chase me non-stop, and I would run and run until I woke up. My heart racing, my hands sweating.
I had to go to bed with one light on so I could fall asleep. But the last time we saw each other, there was no fear. In the dream, I looked at him, he looked at me, and that was it. I never saw him again until I got the photographs on my phone.
Those pictures were the image that everyone from outside believed to be the truth or pretended to be. When I was done staring at my abuser’s photograph, I swiped to see the picture of the small girl. I was she, and she was me.
For years I refused to look at old photographs. I would purposefully hide them in drawers to avoid having to look at them and face the hypocrisy: Happy faces, happy smiles, happy appearances. The sadder I was, the happier the smile had to be. That’s what they told me, with words and actions.
The first time he beat me, it was so bad that I lost consciousness for a bit; but the thing I remember the most was the shock I felt. I was absolutely in shock when his big hand hit my tiny face and dragged me to a different room to repeatedly beat my skinny body more comfortably.
He would beat me non-stop everywhere he could, with a rage I never knew existed. I would scream and shout and try to make him stop, but nobody came for me, even though they could. They were still in the kitchen, probably as shocked as I was.
The next day when I woke up, they noticed I had a stroke in the eye. There were no apologies, no explanations.
“Everything is okay.”
“Tell everyone you hit your eye against the table” was the lie I had to tell. I’m a good girl, so that’s what I did. I went to school and I lied to my friends and my teacher, and when I visited family I repeated the same lie to everyone. People were struggling to look at me in the eyes, and my peers wouldn’t play with me. It was hard to watch.
Just like that, I was ugly, everything was my fault, and my abuser was free to go on and make my life a living hell for an entire decade. Typical: the abuser feels like they can continue because there are zero consequences, and the victim is completely isolated, feeling powerless and ashamed for something that someone has done to them.
When I look at myself in the picture, I can’t help but think: “Why would you hurt this child?”
I was kind, I was good. I was a very good girl, I know that now. I took care of my brothers, loved studying, I was funny! I was also very creative and would put on an entire show to entertain you (or bore you to death) in five minutes. I would do anything you say, but I was also an intelligent kid with a strong sense of justice, which did not help me much in my childhood, as you can imagine.
I’ve been through a lot. I’ve been through so much that I would need a book to describe it all. But the worst thing, the most painful thing besides the heartbrokenness, was the silence. The secrecy. If you have suffered from any form of abuse, you certainly know what I’m talking about.
The abuse takes place over and over, and no one speaks up. Plus, we hide it. And we stay silent when we grow up because that’s what we know.
It’s hard to tell your truth when you’ve kept silent pretty much your entire life, especially if everyone around you is doing the exact same thing. Most of the time, until you speak up, until you tell your truth, you go around thinking that you are alone, that you are not ‘normal.’ Unfortunately, you are normal. You are not a rare exception.
What happened to you happens all the time; people simply don’t talk about it. And I would love it if we started having more conversations about this, to help victims and families of victims and to hold the abusers accountable.
The abuse I suffered was perpetuated by silence, and the perpetuation of this silence got in the way of my healing for years. It was through other people’s stories that I was able to start healing.
If you have been through trauma, I encourage you to tell your story. Please, don’t get me wrong, I’m not telling you to go public and tell everyone about everything if you don’t feel comfortable doing that, but I’d love you to explore the idea of sharing your story of trauma with the people who are close to you.
Something magical happens when you open up.
Each word you let out is a bit of weight that drops. And the more you share, the lighter you feel. I know it is scary, I know you fear people’s reactions, but I promise people will not see you differently. They will just see more of you, and that’s a good thing.
I was so scared of sharing my story with my partner, and all it did was strengthen our relationship. We really see each other now, and I don’t feel like I’m hiding something anymore. I feel free to be me, and he loves me even more for that.
You will see that most people will admire you for the person you have become and understand why you are the way you are or do things the way you do. You will also be surprised to know that some of your friends have been through trauma as well, and you will have wonderful bonding experiences.
It is true what they say: “The truth will set you free.” I believe that. And I believe that it will help liberate other people as well.
About Erika Sardinha
Erika Sardinha is an empowerment coach for survivors based in the Canary Islands. Her purpose is to help survivors reclaim their right to be gentle and achieve success in an aligned way, honoring themselves and their journey. She offers private and group coaching for people who've been through trauma while providing various free resources to her community. Join Erika's free Gentle Badass Community for survivors on WhatsApp and grab her 10-day Empowered Self-care Guided Journaling Experience (also free)! Facebook / TikTok
- Web |
- More Posts
Though I run this site, it is not mine. It's ours. It's not about me. It's about us. Your stories and your wisdom are just as meaningful as mine.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you Erika, your article really spoke to me. Yesterday my colleague told me about her abuse as a child and she was also saying that we should tell people more and not be silent to firstly help with healing and secondly to make it normalised to tell people to help prevent it happening to others (mitigate power to the abusers). Whilst I was listening I was in two minds whether to tell her something similar had happened to me but I couldn’t then. But I do see value in sharing, maybe I will tell her next time, or find courage to tell people close to me since it really does happen more often than we realise and would help with lightening the load. However I’m afraid that I will pass on the burden to them, or feel guilty that I could only speak to them now after many many years had past. But I will try find a way. Thank you Erika.
Hello Amy,
Thank you for your comment, it really means a lot to me. I know the feeling and please do not beat yourself up because of it. You probably have a plethora of reasons why you did not share your story in the moment. I hope you find a way to slowly start opening up. Well, I’m sure you will because you are willing to do it. Feel free to reach out to me if you ever feel like. There is a link to my webpage in my bio, where you’ll find my email and social media profiles. Sending you love and light, Erika.
Thanks Erika. Your story just triggered mine and it’s a complete story to tell about. So I’m keeping this short for now. It’s true that our society and family members also sometimes can’t understand the impact of abuse on a small child that gives courage to the abuser and more pain to the victim. It’s really important to aware people that the abuser should be punished. When such people get punished, the victim’s soul actually starts healing and my soul still refuges to forgive my abuser. However, I no longer get stressed about that (but sometimes).
Hi Maggie,
Thank you for reading it and taking the time to comment. 💜
I told my story when I was 7 to my parents, they told me next time we visit stay on the sofa and don’t go off with grandad. So when it happen again with another person and I could not communicate it so well. I told them I thought I was pregnant because I had slept in the same bed as someone else (about age 9) they just laughed. It was the start of my toxic life and now 42 I am finally finally away from my toxic family and starting to recover. It has a huge impact on you.
I have been abused since I can remember. Being from a family that had no structure I learned most of my morals and grounded Ways from my fathers sister. I am 41, the abuse and neglect from child hood leaded me to a abusive marriage and abusive relationships. It wasn’t until I had my first daughter that I could feel what real love felt like and then I understood that I was never really loved by my own mother or family but abused and used. I would never let my child go through or put her through the moments I’ve been through in my life and just Sit there letting it happen as if nothing of it. I no longer speak to my mother or sibling and started to dedicate time to my family my kids until my narcissistic husband left a woman pregnant and wanted Me to help him with bringing us all together cause now they would be part of the family even if I liked it or not. Now I am living alone with my kids and trying To secure my kids lives so they will never have to feel the pain I felt.
Hello beautiful soul. Thank you for your comment and for sharing your story here. You are right, these things have a huge impact on us. I’m sorry you didn’t have the support you needed at the time, I know how it feels. I’m glad and happy for you, that you are starting to recover. I wish you the best in your journey. Feel free to reach out to me if you want to. Sending you love and light. 🙏🏾
Hi Barsha,
You are very welcome, dear. For a person who have been through trauma, ‘sometimes’ is awesome! We are all human after all, right? I’m happy for you. Forgiveness was important for me and my healing journey (it happened when I wasn’t expecting), but I believe that it is not a mandatory step. You can still move on without forgiveness. I witnessed it with in other people. You sound like you are doing an amazing work so I’ll leave it here, I trust that you will find your own way and embrace the path that best suits you. 💜
Hello beautiful,
I am so sorry to hear about all that you have been through. It’s a lot. Thank you so much for sharing, I really appreciate you being open to share it. 💜It also looks that you have learned lessons from the past and are now breaking patterns and making sure it doesn’t happen again, protecting your child. That is beautiful, I command you for that. So many of us go through trauma and can’t break the cycles! I wish you the best of luck in your journey, once again thanks for stopping by. If you ever feel like it, feel free to reach out to me. All my contact info is on my website (link in bio). Sending you love an light!
I’m so sorry you had to go through that. My first memory is of being thrown against a wall by my dad. He’d hit me, criticize me, throw me on the floor, etc for not being affectionate enough (as if I would want to be close to anyone who did that to me!) He’s changed a lot and actually apologized, and we’re fairly close, but the damage was done and will never be undone. I have told people, but my mom now feels very guilty about “allowing” it to happen even though she did the best she could and was also being abused. Abuse like this affects more people than just the initial victim. It’s hard to know how to balance telling one’s story with being free of one’s story. Thank you for writing this.
My mother and father are narcissists. They were physical and verbal abusers. I spent my life trying to earn their love. However, my idiot brother was the younger, golden child. He grew up with no accountably, no expectations, and zero responsibilities. He’s 47, and still lives at home. Anyway. My oldest had her first born in 2013. At the baby shower, my mother wanted a group picture of the women in the family. I turned my head to her, and looked her DEAD in the eye. YOU HAVEN’T EARNED THAT. I have been no contact with my parents since 2019, and I have zero hate in my heart. I now am a two time Grandma, and the hate they have, dies with them, and them alone.
When the abuser is your sibling and your mother tells you that’s how brother and sister act they tease and fight!
Wth
So your supposed to lock your baby sister out in the rain. Push her off the roof
Jump off the hammock so it bust her head open and need 26 stitches. Or how about sat my cat on fire!
So when my cousin molested me eventually raped me at 12 I knew no one would protect me..
That’s a sad fkn life for a little girl that nobody loved or wanted! Fkn sad