The Great Gap of Abuse & Trauma

I stood there, dumbfounded, in a daze, wondering how this person whom I had opened up my heart to, whom I had allowed myself to be vulnerable with, trusting in their love and devotion to me, could have just said those hurtful things to me. How could this person have so easily and maliciously, further wound my already frail constitution?

Slowly, I backed away into the shadows... away from the one person I had learned to love and trust, away from the ugly words this person had brandished to cut and slay me with, away from another frozen, uncaring heart, away from more validation that I was unworthy of love, nurture and freedom to be myself.

In the years to come, that wound would scab over, only to be picked back open, over and again, by the same person. I would learn well how to hide those parts of me this person seemed to abhor. But every now and again, those hidden parts would surface, only to behold the same look of disdain upon this persons face, reopening the old wound. It would take years for me to fully grasp the reason why this individual was unable to hold empathy in their heart for me.

But I would one day understand, that it had its roots in our childhoods, during our formative years of life. Back then, when I was waking up to cigarette smoke wafting into my room, to a day of scarcity of food and even scarcer of love, this individual was living a carefree life in a home filled with love and laughter. While I was scrapping for enough beans or potatoes to eat among a group of ravishingly hungry siblings, this individual was sitting down to every meal with a happy family. While I stood at the mouth of an enormous dumpster in the back of the local grocer, waiting for my tiny brother to ascend back out its depths, hopefully seizing in his small fists something to eat, like a package of stale apple turnovers, this individual was being served a nice desert by a smiling mother. While I was frantically running home from school bullies, terrified, for I had no one to protect me, this individual's dad was standing up against their enemies. While my dad was belt-whipping me in a heat of temper in front of all my friends, this persons was out climbing trees and building forts. While I was hiding under a bed, trembling, hoping my raging father wouldn't find me, this person was sitting in front of a television laughing with his family. While I was running away from home to escape the endless, fighting and intense unhappiness, this individual was being taught how to drive a car. While I was handing every paycheck from my first job over to my dad, this person was out buying their self all kinds of fun toys. When I left home just short of turning 18, not knowing how to drive, how to balance a checkbook, and desperately hungry for love, this individual was handed a home to live in, employment and freedom of youth. While I was bouncing from place to place, this individual was enjoying a secure home, hobbies, hanging out with friends and family, and living a life of ease.

It took me too many years to realize the great gap between what my formative years had been and what this individuals formative years had been. But I would one day finally get it- why it was so easy for this one to criticize my imperfections, to scowl at my pain, and to be frustrated with my inability to be perfectly happy with the mediocre. Any why it was so easy for me to be so deeply wounded by this individual.

It didn't make this person wrong for having the good life nor me better for suffering the bad. But it had created a great gulf between us- a gulf that only a truly, deep love could bridge. Until that bridge is built, we have to yell at each other in order to hear one another. Until that bridge is built communication will be very limited. Sometimes it feels like that bridge is just about built. At other times, I wonder if it ever will be completed.

#Abuse #survivor #communication #relationships #marriage #Family #familycounseling #marriagecounseling