Bittersweet beginning: Breaking My Silence

A few years ago I decided to break my silence. I didn’t know what I was walking into. I just knew when I told friends in private, it did not result in safe situations. My options were to continue to ignore the darkness, embrace more darkness or expose all of the darkness in public. The problem with exposing the darkness is… well, society loves to have a villain and a victor. With domestic violence, NO ONE WINS.

Each time I hit publish, part of my heart breaks. It breaks because I got caught in the crossfire of someone lacking tools to productively process their own emotions. Generally speaking, they are doing the best they can. So talking about this hurts my heart. For them. What kind of human being am I to publicly share when someone fails? Why should I be concerned with how they feel? Am I still in a cycle by even considering them or does that simply make me human?

A majority of my blog and sharing has been me openly processing my own story of domestic violence. Coming to terms with everything. Identifying the various types of abuse. Lots of confusion. Remembering to focus on my healing and allow karma to take care of the rest. Feeling heavy because I hate seeing others hurt themselves. But mostly, just wanting the pain to stop.

I completely understand when people commit suicide. I was there at one point in my life. I believed the lies that I was not worthy. I lacked healthy boundaries and my inner critic was echoed by just about everyone allowed in my space. I was in a very dark place for a few years. Nearly every person I opened up to in private tried to take advantage of me. People I trusted. Broken trust. Today, it makes sense only because my main trust system, family, was shattered. I didn’t even know I was making unhealthy decisions.

My name is Jessica Corvo. I’m a survivor of domestic violence. Members of my family tried to end my life. Some days I pity myself for having to heal from this and other days, my heart simply hurts to acknowledge that I lost my entire family during my healing journey. The moment I decided to break my silence, I lost everything.

Sometimes I’m not sure why I do certain things. I just lean into my intuition and stop questioning. Just flow into something. This is what happened with writing. I didn’t have an actual goal. The process was #JourneyToPeace. I have many articles where I questioned what that even means? Peace? Peace from what? How does one quantify peace? Does the pain ever actually go away? Or have I just been desensitised to it?

Perhaps my heart stings because everyone has moved on. My father is doing this own thing. My mother is doing her own thing. Yes, I have a brother and he is even doing his own thing. I could not give you details about any of them because we have not spoken in a few years. Some days I’m ok with this and other days I’m not. Often, I question whether or not I’m a good daughter. Often, I question if it was all worth it. With a heavy heart, some people can still catch glimpses of my sadness. It’s during the moments of nothingness that things start to crop up. During these moments, I allow myself to get lost in the feels.

When Kobe and his daughter died in the helicopter crash. I broke down in tears from reading a meme that suggested, during the last moments, Kobe was comforting his daughter. Rather than panic, it was an acceptance of the situation and ability to comfort a scared child. Kobe might have been a bunch of things but that is what made him a legend in my mind. And heart. After everything, simply a father that was comforting his daughter during a life-altering moment.

I continue to have my moments. Am I sad because my father is incapable of doing the same? Perhaps I’m still questioning why I am not good enough to have a father willing to protect or comfort me. I’m not sure. I guess it’s not really THAT important… just something to observe. Detach with love. He did the best he could. I still love my father. Despite everything. I love him.

Today, I sit with my emotions. Oftentimes, I’m suggesting to clients to have a tea party with their emotions. Rather than suppress, just observe. I’m taking my own advice. A few weeks ago, I was accepted as a full-time writer for a national non-profit that advocates for survivors of domestic violence. All volunteers are survivors. It’s a very strong family, filled with love. Full-time writer means I submit an article a week. The editor offers a bunch of topics and the writers pick something and off we go. Research. Sit. Create. Share. My first writing assignment, how does domestic violence affect your heart health?

In my feels: Last year, my mother had emergency open-heart surgery. Yes, I picked this topic. I leaned in. Everything in my life is intentional. Whether it’s a conscious decision or the Universe nudging me… well, that’s a different story.

The article was published yesterday. I shared it with a handful of friends and already, it’s being used as a discussion topic for TedX conversations around heart health. A few firefighters and medical practitioners complimented my accuracy. Of course, those closest to me didn’t have actual words but sent their love. Some asked if I have seen my mom since her surgery. Others are just waiting for me to be ready to talk about it. I struggle to talk about my mother.

I’m at a point where I’m able to once again use my emotions as fuel to accomplish a goal. My mission is to promote health and wellness. Sometimes that will look like sharing actual examples of my life. Other times, it’s spending a ridiculous amount of time collecting data and statistics.

Today, I honour myself. Today, I’m a writer and my words are fuelled by a deep love. Love for a family that I miss very much. But a family that is no longer.

I’m dancing in my feels and I’m ok with it… When my tears fall., it’s no longer about releasing pain but acknowledging how much I am capable of love. Loving self and loving others.

My journey continues…

Published by Jessica Corvo

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

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