I Wish I Had Spoken Up Sooner… I’m Sorry

By Tara Overzat

My life is pretty good these days, and I have had some very bright, shining moments, seeing and doing things some people only dream of.

However, I do have my regrets. My biggest one is that I hid the burden of my child abuse for way too long. I realize some people never talk about it, and others don’t begin to talk about it til middle age or later, but I have already seen the consequences of keeping this a secret.

I dated someone in college whom I fear I hurt the most with this secret. When I moved away from home at 18, I settled into college life in north Florida and was doing exceptionally well academically, socially and extra-curricularly. I also happened to fall in love. My first love.

Everything in my life was great, and I could not have asked for more.

The summer after my freshman year things changed. I was hit with flashbacks and an overwhelming feeling of sinking, followed by dissociation. The summer term at college was very quiet, and perhaps the lack of distraction caused all these things I had been holding down for years to surface.

I wound up seeking counseling and was first disastrously put on Prozac, and later switched to a low dosage of lorazepam. I was neurotypical; I was a healthy person having flashbacks of a hellish childhood.

But I didn’t tell my boyfriend that. All he knew was that I was vaguely having some weird issues and was taking some pills. I wasn’t ready to admit to myself what was happening, let alone him. I think I was afraid that he would all of a sudden see me as some gutter trash that not even her parents could love, and leave me.

Instead, the mystery caused a bigger problem. He was a 19 year old boy, and though he was very mature, I do not think he could handle the idea of being with someone who he perhaps thought was going to be chronically mentally ill.

I wish I had just told him the truth. It would have helped the both of us. It was towards the end of that summer that I stopped taking the lorazepam altogether- I didn’t feel like myself on it and it severely lowered my libido along with the annoying side effect of memory loss after taking it in the evenings and mornings. I have not been on any medication since, and am again working on my issues and fears from my childhood with a clear mind.

I do have a great boyfriend now. A job that works with my schedule. I still find time to travel. But, I am still guilty about what I put that young man through all those years ago. I loved him, but was scared. Scared to tell him what was actually wrong, and scared to tell him clearly and without inhibition how I felt about him. It reminds me of a song we used to listen to:

“You were fighting every day

So hard to hide the pain

I know you never said goodbye

I had so much left to say…”

(Angel’s Son, Sevendust)

And today, I am angry. When my parents were abusing me, did they have any idea just how far-reaching the effects would be? That I would not be able to have a relationship with someone where I could be honest and open about the past until today? That all those people had to be hurt along the way?