Written by: Admin_SheEvo

I have dedicated my life to helping people understand childhood trauma, redefine their perception of behaviour, and make tangible changes in their approaches. There’s truth and growth in pain, but only if it is brought out into the open. This is my story. I have often avoided my past, but I am constantly aware of how it informs my future. I have learned about how trauma and adversity can manifest in adulthood through my own experiences, which support much of my work. I have shared snippets of my experiences with my partner to illustrate how children might feel, but I kept them at arm’s length. They are interwoven into my soul, and sharing them feels like losing control over them, which is scary. I worry about being seen differently or weaker. Many times, I thought it wasn’t fair to share my story, as others have had it worse. But I’m slowly realizing that stories are powerful agents for change, and I want to cultivate change.

Everyone’s experiences, big or small, are relevant and worthy of being shared. We must be brave enough to talk about the tough stuff to normalize difficult feelings and teach children that their experiences matter. Our stories shape our perception of the world, our beliefs, and our behaviours. They mould us and stay with us. It’s time to share mine. I grew up in an environment of neglect, emotional abuse, and violence. From a young age, I was familiar with fear and anxiety. On the outside, everything seemed idyllic, but behind closed doors, I carried a painful secret. My parents fought daily, creating a constant presence of tension. The emotional turmoil filled our house, and I often felt like I was walking on eggshells. The pressure to take sides in their arguments caused me emotional stress and anger.

I adored my dad, who inspired me to be my best self. He was charismatic, loving, and kind, but he was also an alcoholic and abusive. He struggled with his own past, having grown up with adversity and feeling unloved and unworthy. His experiences overshadowed his life, and despite creating a beautiful life for us, he was plagued by his past. I grew up with two identities: my wonderful, loving self and my scary self, which nobody knew about. We didn’t tell anyone what went on inside our house. As I got older, I resented the life we had to live. To cope, I immersed myself in TV, writing, and drawing. Writing became my sanctuary, a place to release my pain and confusion. But the constant flip between good and bad days was torture.

The emotional toll of my parents’ fighting left me feeling insecure and anxious. My father’s illness worsened, and despite everything, I still loved and looked up to him. His illness and our family dynamics strained my relationship with my mother. I felt isolated and unloved, and my mother’s scolding only made it worse. In the absence of safety within my family, I found solace in writing. However, my struggles with gastric ulcers and surgery deepened my pain. Despite my transformation into a cold-hearted
individual, I longed for love and understanding. My journey to reconnect with my family and heal from my trauma has taught me the power of resilience, love, and seeking help when needed. I have decided to reconnect with my family, especially my father. I believe that people can change and redeem themselves. I am living in the present, making the most of my life by opening myself up to the world and allowing myself to be vulnerable. I have learned to embrace kindness and empathy again, and I choose to share my story to inspire others to find their own light amidst the darkness.

I was diagnosed with gastric ulcers and experienced complications. Surgery was suggested, but it scared me. During this time, I realized my mother’s love and care. I shared my family problems with Father Mwango, our school chaplain, who brought me closer to God. My transformation into a cold-hearted individual was gradual. I became detached, suppressing feelings of empathy or compassion. I adopted a cynical outlook, expecting the worst from people. I never imagined having so much hatred for my father. I started praying for his death, believing our family would be better off without him.

Interactions with others became transactional. I focused on self-preservation and personal gain, refusing to let anyone get too close. My once vibrant spirit turned cold and distant. Despite my transformation, I longed to experience warmth and love again. 2022 was my most depressing year. I lost interest in everything I loved. I found solace in drinking alcohol. I felt comfortable being alone. The pain inflicted was excruciating, leaving a lasting impact on my heart. I felt like everyone was manipulative and deceitful. I began to withdraw emotionally as a defence mechanism. Interactions with others became transactional. My once vibrant spirit had turned cold and distant.

I was either going to commit suicide or murder. The thought of committing suicide dominated. One day, I noticed a fire in the kitchen and ignored it. I didn’t care about the fire or the people in the house. My parents saved us, but my mother’s anger made me feel she didn’t care about me. Deep down, I still longed to experience warmth and love. I sat my mother down and explained how my sleep was affected. She told me to visit Bishop Chulu. He made me realize I had been depressed. I started finding ways to escape depression. I engaged in church activities and went to a conference. Seeing people singing and dancing was exciting. I felt like I hadn’t been happy in ages.

My parents divorced, which I supported, but it made me insecure about my family relationship. I developed a fear of abandonment. My brother and I hated each other because he sided with my father, and I sided with my mother. Parents serve as role models for their children’s behavior and relationships. Witnessing conflict aggression between my parents, I internalized those patterns and exhibited similar behaviors in my relationships. I struggled with expressing my needs and resolving conflicts constructively. My trust and intimacy were affected. I struggled to trust my partner’s intentions, leading to difficulties in forming deep emotional connections. One day, I met someone who forced me to confront my cold-heartedness. My companion friend noticed my withdrawn demeanor and reached out with kindness and understanding. His selflessness and compassion touched a chord deep within my soul. I realized my cold- heartedness had not protected me from pain; it had only isolated me further. Embracing vulnerability and reconnecting with my humanity, I embarked on a journey of self-reflection and healing.

With consistent support from loved ones, I learned coping mechanisms to manage my anxiety and build a network of trusted individuals. My journey taught me the power of seeking help when needed. Everyone needs help, and it shouldn’t be a big deal to seek or offer help. Our aim should be to love people regardless. People can change and redeem themselves. I am free to move on, and I won’t let people hold me in a prison where I can’t move on. My life is important, and I choose to make the most of it.

Sharing this story is not easy, but it is important to express how deeply the constant fighting affected me. I hope that by sharing this, we can begin to have open and honest conversations about our family dynamics. My story serves as a reminder that every child deserves a safe and nurturing environment. Let us create a better world, advocating for the rights of vulnerable children and raising awareness about the impact of childhood trauma. Appearance can be deceiving; we must approach others with empathy and understanding, creating inclusive environments where everyone feels safe and included.

LEAVE A COMMENT

Admin_SheEvo

My name is Yasmine Luhandjula, and I am the Chief Editor for She Evolves World. My role is to plan, manage and produce quality, engaging and informative content for our readers.

RELATED POSTS