If my wounds were visible…

I stumbled across an article. It was a woman that shared some pretty traumatic abuse, in church, by her father. The sentence that caught my attention is one that I heard in my family… on many occasions, “Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!”

Another favourite one-liner was, “I’m not yelling, do you want to hear yelling?!”

I remember a field trip to the city. I do not remember what prompted this but we drove through the Projects and told that if we didn’t listen to them (parents) then we would end up with a future of a crackhead. Programming: disobedience = crackhead.

I cannot say that my family was physically abusive because I cannot really remember anything of that sort until I was an adult. The extent of my physical abuse was being strangled up against a wall and on a different occasion, I had a loaded gun pushed up against my face. Thinking back, I’m not sure that really constitutes as physical abuse. I still think it’s more emotional/psychological abuse but… Regardless on how I slice it, it was all inappropriate.

So the line, “If my wounds were visible…”

If my wounds were visible, I wouldn’t feel crazy. I wouldn’t have to spend so much time going over whether or not something was healthy or abusive. If my wounds were visible, I wouldn’t evaluate single criticism to either validate or invalidate what I know to be true. If my wounds were visible, I would have pictures of bruises and broken bones as opposed to broken dreams and a shattered heart. I have a series of pictures after abusive episodes and debate on whether or not to share in my blog. The pictures are disturbing. They make me feel sad to even acknowledge because my spirit remembers the pain from that moment. It’s a suffocating pain that makes me feel ashamed, helpless, and overwhelmed.

If my wounds were visible I would know that I am worthy. I wouldn’t have to preach it to others. I wouldn’t have to remind others to treat me with decency. If my wounds were visible, then I’d be able to identify the predators a heck of a lot faster. I’m flawless when I’m in Asia but I still struggle when I’m in the USA. It appears that my judgement is clouded by proximity. Proximity and emotions. I’m in a constant emotional state as I’m processing family drama. Family abuse. Family dysfunction.

If my wounds were visible I wouldn’t feel so alone. People would know to just sit quietly with me as I try my hardest to be gentle on myself. They would know that my wings are broken but I’m working like a mad woman to hold myself together.

If my wounds were visible…

I’m very blessed because I knew before I knew but I didn’t know. I never waited for someone to help me. I took the first flight to the furthest place in the world. Just a few weeks after graduation, I moved to Asia. I started my life out there. I built my own world. I forced myself to only depend on myself. I always knew that I could come home (my mom was always supportive) but deep down, I knew that my only chance for survival was to spread my wings and leave the nest. I’m grateful that my wounds were not visible because had they been visible, I do not think that I would have achieved the success that I achieved for all those years. I’m not saying that I encourage people to suffer in silence, I’m only saying that I’m grateful for this current moment. I’m actively processing pain and healing my spirit. I’m actively purifying my heart and getting myself into a healthy place. I’m actively pulling myself out of denial and confronting my deepest pain and demons…

And for this specific time, If my wounds were visible, I think my healing journey would be a bit easier. If my wounds were visible, then my biggest supporter would have the courage to accept the truth that her daughter is being attacked. People are trying to destroy her daughter.

But the grass is always greener on the other side, right?

I’m glad my wounds are not visible. It allows me to address my pain at my own pace. I’m in control of what narrative to share. When things get too difficult, I can disappear to a new city and I don’t have to confront my pain. I can ignore it for a short while. I just need to remind myself that no one else’s opinion matters. And by sharing my healing journey, I am able to help those also healing from invisible wounds. It’s an expansive tribe. Elite even… and I wouldn’t change a single thing about my abuse or my recovery. I just try to take things one day at a time…

#WhyIWrite #MentalWellness #DomesticViolence #EmotionalAbuse #IfMyWoundsWereVisible #InvisibleWounds #Trauma #Recovery #OneDayAtATime #JourneyToPeace

Published by Jessica Corvo

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

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