There is an Event happening up here in Cache Valley called Ignite the Light with Alex Boye, a fellow baker colleague literally put this together in 2 weeks, so proud of her. she had an experience that shattered her, an experience that moved her to provide a bigger involvement in providing resources and care to those who are in this spiral to the point of taking one’s life seems to be the only answer.
I want to share my experience.
growing up my mother and father were just a calamity of a pair. and in all honesty, albeit you’d have to know the history, my mother- i truly believe is a victim of stockholm syndrome. my dad the abuser and my mom the recipient, in short.
it was not out of the ordinary to see violence in my household. I remember sitting with my mom once on her bed, she was crying after being forced into a corner by my dad, beaten until bruised. i was just sitting wondering why.
my dad raped her. i know it sounds weird, but i know there were times she did not want to have intercourse and she would be threatened with abuse.
when we moved, domestic abuse was well know in our neighborhood. but only one time did the police ever come. the neighbors turned away everytime.
one day, in my twenties, i came to visit my mom and dad and bloody towels were laid around the house.
here is my first experience with suicide.
when i was 11 , my dad beat me really bad with a wire hanger. i think i was out playing or something. and he beat me that my legs welted up from the indentations of the wire. that night i wrote on my hand ” i hate my dad” but that’s not what made me want to end my life.
I went to school the next day and there were two girls who noticed me and they happened to be in my class, i remember their names, brittney and jessica. they said they could help me tell the teacher during recess. well recess bell rang, and brittney and jessica went to the teacher to tell her what happened, but i was succumbed with emotion that i just blurted out ” my dad beat me”
the two girls ran out. during the afternoon recess, they didn’t want to talk to me. I didn’t understand, then they said ” we wanted to tell the teacher and you ruined it”
what the hell? this so called support from them was really some sort of plot of imagery and it weakened me. not only did my friends not want to talk to me but i also didn’t want to be around my family. but officer OJ came that night and talked to my dad and my family. it didn’t get better after that, but it made me feel seen and I coped with abuse differently.
the second time- high school. My dad was adamant on keeping me away from any social life, he scared away friends, he threatened my mom if she allowed me to go out with them. it was just bad. teen years are hard anyway and to not identify with anyone i was around was just hard. I wrote a note to Joy and JD and planned on not coming to school the next day. I don’t know why I chose them, it was obviously just a cry for help. but after lunch, i got called into the counselors office and those two were there, i gave them my note separately so it was surprising to me they were there together.
Finally, 4 months after charlotte was born, i was overwhelmed, sad, and couldn’t understand this new baby and my new life. post partum depression. I was ready to drive my car off the road during the middle of the night. Wes came home from work, and he just talked to me trying to understand. at Charlottes check up the MA asked me how I was, and i broke down telling her i had no idea.
To this day, the people around me that wanted to help, helped more than they could know. I share this now because this is the first time i’ve shared these experiences, where i was comfortable enough to feel like that person that these awareness programs were talking about. to be on that side of it. its taken me 7 years to come to terms with my story to share it, and so i just need to press that even though we look okay, trauma still resides, and so lets prevent this trauma now and love and notice whats happening to those we care for.