The trauma of the abuse followed me wherever I went. I struggled to make friends, to trust people, to feel safe in my own skin. I was constantly on edge, always looking over my shoulder, always afraid of what might happen next.
As I got older, the trauma manifested itself in different ways. I struggled with anxiety and depression, with intimacy and relationships. I turned to alcohol and drugs to numb the pain, to escape from the memories that haunted me day and night.
But no matter how hard I tried to run from it, the trauma was always there, lurking in the shadows, waiting to pounce when I least expected it. It colored every aspect of my life, from my career to my relationships to my sense of self-worth.
It wasn't until I sought therapy in my fifties that I began to truly confront the trauma and its impact on my life. Through years of hard work and healing, I have slowly begun to reclaim my sense of self, to rebuild my shattered confidence, to find peace and healing in the midst of the pain.
But the scars of the trauma will always be a part of me. They have shaped me in ways I can never fully understand or undo. And while I may never fully escape the shadow of the abuse, I am learning to live with it, to accept it as a part of my story, but not the defining chapter.
I am a survivor, not a victim. And I will continue to fight, to heal, to thrive, no matter how long it takes. Because I refuse to let the trauma of the past define my future.
