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Echoes of Haunting Memories

Walking on eggshells, the unsettling quiet before the storm, and the unpredictable moods of an abusive, drinking parent... For many, home is a safe space, but for others, it's a place where fear festers. Witnessing a loved one, especially a mother, endure such pain leaves one with a gnawing helplessness. But, even in that darkness, remember you're not alone. Reach out, speak up, and let's change the narrative.

Seeing your mother in pain, wanting to shield her but feeling powerless... It's an indescribable agony. Over time, it makes you question your own worth: "Why couldn’t I do more?" But remember, your worth isn't tied to what you couldn’t control in the past. Your value is infinite, and every day is a new chance to rise.

From the shadows of a tumultuous home, a dual-natured growth arises: a fragile sense of self-worth, contrasting with an ironclad strength. The resilience developed from enduring such hardships isn't something many can comprehend. But in that strength lies the power to rebuild, redefine, and rise above. To the outside world, it's just another house. But for some, behind closed doors, it's a battleground – where the fear of a volatile, drinking parent looms large, and the heartbreak of witnessing a mother's suffering is a silent scream. But in sharing our stories, we can find solace and strength.

Growing up in fear chips away at our self-worth, but it also ignites a flame of resilience. It's a paradox – feeling broken yet unyielding. To all who've lived this duality: Your strength is testament to your spirit. No matter how entwined the pain of the past is, every moment presents an opportunity to rewrite your story.

My Rise: From Shadows to Light

I grew up in that house where the walls bore witness to tales of torment and anguish. The volatile storms of my father’s drunken rage reverberated down the hallway, and the silent tears of my mother became the bedtime lull.

Over the years, the palpable tension became an unsettling norm. I learned early on to read the room, anticipating his moods and navigating my way around them. My childhood was an endless cycle of seeking sanctuary in hiding places, where I would clasp my hands over my ears to shut out the world.

As I transitioned into adolescence, the echoes of my turbulent upbringing manifested in my relationships. I gravitated towards partners who mimicked the familiarity of control, partners who unknowingly played out scenes from the haunting story of my youth.

However, with every relationship, a realization grew within me: I didn't want to recreate my past. The fear of living my mother's life became my driving force. Every time I felt the chilling grip of control, I would recall my mother's silent eyes, ushering me and my siblings upstairs out of the way and I would summon the strength to step away. Determinedly, I vowed never to become a passive spectator in my own life's story.

Well the workforce unveiled a different set of challenges. In a world where colleagues exhibited strong, assertive personalities, I often felt like that same frightened child. Meetings felt like minefields, and asserting my voice seemed like an insurmountable challenge.


But I was no stranger to adversity.


Drawing strength from my past, I started on a journey of self-discovery. I sought therapy, delving deep into the layers of my pain, and unpacking the baggage I'd carried for years. I started attending online workshops and reading books on self-assertiveness and emotional intelligence.

One decisive evening, at a group therapy session, I shared my story. I balled and snotted everywhere as I relayed my pain yet, the raw heartfelt words resonated with many, leading me to a newfound purpose. I began to train as a therapist, clinical hypnotherapist/psychotherapist to be precise, I wanted to work with women and children who had witnessed domestic abuse, teaching them to find their voice and reclaim their worth.

The journey isn't without its bumps, and yes im still on it. Memories will often resurface, old triggers will make me falter, but with every stumble, I learn, grow, and soar higher.

Today, I stand tall, not just as a survivor but as a beacon of hope for many. My relationships are partnerships of equals, and my work, a testament to my resilience and determination. No longer do I feel overshadowed in a room filled with powerful voices because I know the strength that lies in my own story.

My life is a testament: adversity might shape us, but it's our spirit that defines who we become.


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