Being abused is a feeling that words will never fully be able to explain. Experiences like that aren’t as black and white as some believe they are. I always thought abuse was only something that happened in movies or to really ignorant girls with bad boyfriends- until it happened to me. It always seemed like such a far off idea, like it could never happen to me. Kind of like how people view car accidents, being kidnapped or being robbed. I had the most loving mother whom I thought would never let anything happen to me. It took me sometime to figure out that she couldn’t have prevented it or saved me from it, no matter how much she thinks she could have. I believe that being abused can lead you down a specific path in life. A path of depression, that will eventually leave you at a fork in the road. One option is to find your way out--to get help. The other option is a downward spiral leading to things like suicide and substance abuse.
Verbal abuse is kind of like a rollercoaster. It starts out slow with little things like calling you names, pointing out your flaws or just making beastly comments. Then your abuser will find a peak where the little things are no longer satisfying, that’s when things get more aggressive. Leading into all the twists and turns, where the abuser will try different things until they find the most satisfying pain to convey upon you. I experienced this around age 12. My abuser became very involved in drugs like marijuana along with alcohol. At first he just called me things like ugly, stupid or a bitch. I really didn’t read too much into it because I just assumed all siblings would kind of taunt or made fun of each other. But, then things got progressively worse. The words and phrases that he was saying to me began to get more personal. He started telling me that I was “a waste of life” and that I should have “never been conceived.” All of the despicable things that he was stating about me became etched into my head, like the rock that reads Palmer outside my best friend’s house. Carved deeply into my mind with such callous haste. They would creep up on me when I least expected it, leaving the impression that I was all of the things that heinous boy had said to me. I was beginning my path of depression and before I would know it I would be at the fork.
Once you realize you are depressed it is almost too late to get yourself out. By the time you see how bad things truly are you will most likely need help getting out or you will be lost forever. When you finally reach the “fork” in your road of depression you have reached the point of reaching out or spiraling out of control. There are many ways you can reach out for help. Often times you can talk with a loved one about the problems at hand, or find a counselor or person of the sort. Just having the strength to admit that there’s a problem and you need help is half the battle itself.
Not everyone is strong enough to choose that side of the “fork.” Often times people will choose the downward spiral. I know that for a little while I did. I couldn’t handle the mental or physical pain anymore. I was done living life, done feeling the way that I felt. And, I knew just how I would do it. I spent many nights lying awake planning it all out- who would find me, when, how and the letter I would leave. I would do it so that my mom wouldn’t find me. I would make it as clean and quick as possible. I remember being at school ready to go home and be done. That day would be my last. Many times people don’t back track. They will write their final letter and do the deed. Life would be over.
Grant Baldwin, a public speaker, saved me. We watched a video of him speaking, and something within me clicked. I backed up and looked at the situation, my life was too precious to end because of one pathetic excuse of a brother. I went back to the fork of the road and chose a new path. Although my path didn’t involve reaching out to a parent, loved one or counselor for almost 6 years. It was more reaching out to videos of public speakers or people who had gone through what I had. My life was now mine to make something with. I knew from that point on that someday I would tell my story so that someone who is sitting in the deep place I was in would be changed and find their way out like I battle to do. I wanted to make a difference to be heard and to stand up for what I knew was wrong. What I had gone through and experienced first hand.
People are often times judgmental of the things that they don’t understand. Many times people are so quick to taking their perspective and running with it, instead of broadening their horizons and taking a look at it from other points of view. Abuse and suicidal thoughts are some examples of things that people tend to not understand. Often times people think of suicide as weakness, like the person is being a baby and can’t handle the life they are dealt. They will look, almost, down upon that person and negatively view their mind, thoughts, and actions. People will be so judgmental without even thinking about it. It is just the way that society has pushed us to live. Often times you will not understand a depressed or suicidal person’s thoughts until you have been in their shoes or walked their path. Truthfully it is like that with any person in any situation. The human mind and emotions are one of the hardest things to understand. Then, adding all of everyone’s personal twists and turns makes it even messier. No one path is a like, no person can ever say they understand something they truly have not been through themselves. So who are you to judge?
