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?

For the survivor of child abuse, the events that happened don’t just go away. If they are not dealt with they may manifest into the strangest of problems in your life. (See The Michael Jackson Tragedy- What Happens When You Don’t Deal With Your Past) As such, all of us who survived child abuse are “living with child abuse” for the rest of our lives.

But we can still have great and accomplished lives. (See What Will Happen to the Children?) Here are some strategies that I have used to deal with the past while living very much in the present.

1) Keep your sense of humor.

Find something comical everyday. It can be a funny website, like lolcats.com, or a sitcom that makes you laugh. Maybe you have a friend who is hilarious to be around. It could even be a favorite comedy movie or book.

And always, be ready to laugh at yourself. None of us are perfect. And if you can find humor in your own situation, you may also find a way to make it right.

2. One step at a time. Baby steps are okay, too.

When you’re mired in depression, anxiety or shame, getting back to happiness, to feeling normal, can seem nearly impossible. But by breaking it down into little steps and taking as many of those little steps you can everyday, you will start to feel better and one day you will wake up to see that the finish line is in sight.

I was so shy around people in my middle school. With all the bullying and ostracization I encountered my self-esteem was zilch. When I tried to make friends with new classmates, I was petrified. I started out very small. I said, “Hello,” in class. On a good day, I may ask what someone got for problem #27 on their algebra homework. These little queries were just meaningless small talk for my classmates, but for me it was huge. I eventually made long-lasting friendships with some of these people. And it started with finding the courage to take a baby step in the right direction.

3. Grieve “what could have been” without wallowing.

In recent years, my big problem has been an overwhelming sense of regret. Despite the things I have accomplished in my life (perhaps because of them), I feel like I was robbed of a chance to do even more. Maybe, instead of taking care of my mother while she forbade me to leave the apartment, I could have been taking dance or acting lessons. Maybe I could have been skipped a year ahead in school. Maybe in high school, instead of working so many hours, I could have had the time to study more and been valedictorian of my class. If I hadn’t felt the need to stay close to my Florida hometown when I went off to college, I could have gone a to a really great school out of state. The list of maybes and what ifs can go on and on.

All of us who were robbed of childhoods and adequate emotional support from our families feel like maybe we could have been someone better. Someone smarter, better looking, more athletic, more admired.

The truth is, we are here today because of all the moments and seconds in our lives that came before. Change any moment, any second of our lives and we would be unrecognizable. We may not even be here at all.

It is okay to grieve over a lost opportunity every once in a while. But to wallow in that grief, to not do anything with today because we are so upset at what happened yesterday only further ruins our chances of making our lives great.

4. You’re important. But there are things bigger than you, too.

Devoting time to a volunteer organization or to help a friend or family member in need can help divert your attention from your problems just long enough for you to put your problems in focus. When people are counting on you to help cook a meal for the homeless or your little cousin is expecting you to cheer him on at his softball game, you have to get yourself out of bed, get dressed and put on a smile.

One caveat: I became a workaholic and avoided my issues altogether. As with all things in life there is a balance. Don’t completely ignore yourself!

5. Never give up hope. Ever.

Human beings are incredibly resilient. People survive horrific accidents. Wars. Concentration camps. Survivors are the people who never gave up hope. Whatever you are going through, never give up.

In order to create a better tomorrow for ourselves, we have to be able to imagine what that tomorrow will look like and how we expect to get there. The essence of hope is that this beautiful future is possible.

6. Know when to let go. (Loving Detachment)

While healthy human beings have an innate instinct to help one another, change starts with the individual. If a person does not want to change and become a better person you cannot force them to.

With alcoholics, drug addicts, and anyone else with a life-blocking issue, unless they want to face that they have a problem, there is no way you can help them. This does not mean, however, that you do not love them.

I love both my parents; but they have seriously derailed their lives and put their children through hell in the process. I cannot sustain a healthy relationship with either them unless they seek treatment.

I love them, but have detached myself from their dysfunction. In order to save myself, I had to jump ship. The captain of the boat is the only one who can change course. And I refuse to aide and abet them anymore in their unhealthy ways, and reinforce and reward their negative habits.

Some of the things I’ve written about are going to sound horrible and shocking to people. But for me and my brother, this was normal. This was life. So, along with the bad times, in our perception, there were plenty of good times too.

Now, our good times may not be your good times. But they were the places, things and acitivities that kept us happy (and probably kept us sane).

My brother and I were never taught how to ride a bike. But we did play a lot of board games, and run around outside. We were both exceptionally imaginative and my brother had a gift for creating voices to go along with characters he developed. We could spend a whole afternoon pretending to be Poncy and Posey, 2 British characters having adventrues. He’d even draw comic strips to go along with these characters.

With the uniqueness of our situation and my mother’s either disgust or fear of the outside world, we were not allowed to have friends over more than a couple of times a year. My hbrother and I pretty much became best friends and I always felt my purpose was to look after him and make sure he was alright.

We didn’t really fight much because of this. Maybe that is why we fight so much now.

We entertained each other and were there for each other. It was more than I could have asked for from anybody.

*****

I had a professor in college who talked about how the slaves who could not outrightly rebel undermined their masters in other ways- not completing their tasks or completing them shoddily; playing dumb to get out of unfair work; sabotaging things on the plantation or in the home.

I think anyone trapped in a situation does a little of this. There are private jokes over the absurd and unfair things, just to be able to crack a smile. There is the finding of pleasure in small things that others take for granted.

(I remember a sleepover when I was about 11 years old, one my father’s neighbors- it was my first sleepover but I was ashamed to admit to the girl that I had never had one before. When my mother heard about the sleepover she was inexplicably outraged. It wasn’t until I was much older that I forced my mother to let me have a friend sleepover, and then she had the bizarre idea that she & I were being intimate in the bathroom.. we had been using the Biore strips, which were new at the time.)

In short, I probably would have been a very distressed person without my brother, and he without me. In our childish innocence and incomplete understanding, we managed to save two lives.