Being Secretive vs Private

Have you ever noticed when you identify someone as being a victim of abuse, they are very private? Why are they private? Is it because they are scared? Is it because they are hiding something? Or is it because they are protecting those they love?

For me, it’s about protecting those I love.

I have a phenomenal life. I won’t lie. My life is pretty fantastic but that’s because I have the ability to find the silver lining in just about any situation. I remember humanity 95% of the time and I always do things with love. Even when upset, my heart takes over and things are done from heart center. Fact.

The last few months, the story I wanted to share has been the blessing of reconnecting with family. I’ve been hesitant to share the story because I feared my abuser would take away my happiness. I couldn’t allow that. I acknowledge I’m powerless. I needed to hold on and protect my happiness. I didn’t want them to be confronted by the same monster who torments me. So I waited. I waited until the monster found a new source. A new place to direct his energy. A new person to torment. (For him, it’s easier to torment others than accept [and fix] his faults). So I kept my writing and any public sharing away from my well-wishers. Away from my source of love. Away from the people who believe in me and remind me of my value added to the world. Away from people I’m blessed to call Family.

Background: In 2011, I treated dad to a trip to see his Aunties. I knew he was upset about Grandpa Corvo passing a few years earlier. So this trip was an attempt to get a big ol dose of love. Stuff happened, words said, doors slammed and flights rebooked. Needless to say, I was caught in the crossfire of something that was not my fault. I took the blame for it for years but it wasn’t my fault. I knew this. My heart knew this. Years pass. My heart knew they didn’t hold any grudges. I just felt that reaching out to them was betraying dad. They were his Aunties before my Great Aunties. If that brought Dad peace, then I shouldn’t’ get involved.

I changed my mind. I made the call. The phone call. To apologise. To test the water.

I went on an apology tour. I made an effort to spend a few days with each Auntie. Part of me was thinking I was going to be scolded for not minding my father. Part of me hoped that I would feel Grandpa’s presence in them (the Aunties are Grandpa’s sisters). I was terrified but hopeful. I was overwhelmed and searching for peace. I was present but making up for lost time. I didn’t know if they ‘knew me’ based on dad’s opinion or Grandpa’s opinion. Do I talk about the abuse? Do they know? Can I ignore dad’s existence? Maybe I’ll just talk about travels and Ironman. No need to discuss dad. What if they ask and I start crying? Can I handle this topic? Ahhhh! I was a hot mess!


The first visit was with Auntie Lorie / Uncle Denny. I think they saw the fear in my eyes when I was sharing a few stories. The way they just grabbed me in an effort to hug the love back into my body was insane. Uncle Denny even turned the energy in the room from easy peasy to very protective. Protective of me and my broken heart. Protective of me. I haven’t felt that type of safety since December 14, 2009 (RIP Grandpa Corvo).

Then I saw Auntie Mick /Uncle Jim. Let’s just say that by the end of this visit, Uncle Jim is now Jim Daddy. I do not understand how Auntie Mick is so tiny because her heart is HUGE. My heart started beating harder.
IMG_4682I was starting to remember what it felt like to be loved.

The last stop in the tour was with Auntie Roe. Of all the aunties, I think I’m most similar to Auntie Roe. For real, when we were in the same room, my phone/watch STOPPED working. There was some ridiculous power between us where electronics were not operational. Auntie Roe is a hippy with an iron fist. Her door is always open as long as you mind her rules. Softest fierce person I’ve ever met (I mean Auntie Lorie and Auntie Mick are tough chicks too but Auntie Roe is a special force). She understood my rough bits and my intention to ‘fix myself’ before imploding. We had conversations without words. I remembered what it felt like to be understood.

IMG_4096Each visit made me a bit stronger. Each visit was holding up a mirror. To remind me of safety. To remind me of love. To remind me of being understood. How can I possibly share these gifts with the interwebs knowing that by hitting publish, they might be subjected to abusive phone calls? Heck, I’m not being dramatic, it has happened. When I got close to an Uncle, it was a matter of weeks before he was shouted at and told to never speak to me. Mom would also catch fire when/if I spent time with her and my abuser wasn’t notified. I’m also convinced that’s why my biological brother thinks I’m a drama queen, dad’s explosions are usually because I breathe. I didn’t want that to happen. I was tired of being isolated. So I thought best to keep quiet.

Now, I’ve found a new strength. I remembered that keeping my well-wishers in private was me re-victimizing myself. I was shackling myself with the chains of previous abuse. I had allowed the previous bullying to dictate my current actions. I hid behind the idea of protecting my well-wishers rather than trust that LOVE CONQUERS ALL. My faith in the abuse was stronger than my faith in humanity, more specifically faith in Family.

I was acting out of fear.

So here is a public declaration of my gratitude and appreciation for Aunties that gave me a dose of Grandpa (Gosh how I miss him). And endless appreciation for Uncles that put me under their wing. I found Family that loves me for me, bumpy bits and all.

The most treasured reconnection of them all is filling a void of a father figure. When one walks out, it was just God’s plan to make room for another (and I’m NOT religious, go figure). My favourite date of the week is Sunday night. Sunday night is when I’m reminded that it’s ok to give love AND receive love. I’m reminded that I am worthy of being loved… I can say it and I’m just now starting to believe it. Family heals everything.

#WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #GuardianAngelsPleaseProtectMyWellWishers #GrandpaIsWatching #LemonHeadIsWatching #AuntLindaIsWatching #MyGuardianAngelsAreMyWolfPack #Family #Love #NarcissisticAbuse #Recovery #SuperVulnerable #JourneyToPeace

Published by Jessica Corvo

Health Coach. Mental Wellness Advocate. Ironman. Global Nomad. Warrior of Love.

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