My Abusive Childhood Wasn’t that Bad because His was Worse

Sometimes people tell me that they don’t think they have a right to call what happened to them “abuse” or that they feel as though they don’t have a “right” to feel as though they had been wronged in childhood. And these feelings are common! I had them all too. It wasn’t “that bad” for me either. In fact even today when people write to me saying that they are grateful that their lives were not as bad as mine was and go on to tell me of their childhoods, my first reaction is “WHAT? You think what happened to me was worse than what happened to you!!”

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Understanding Depression Led to Facing Sexual Abuse by Tracie Nall

I am excited to have my friend and fellow writer Tracy Nall contributing to Emerging from Broken with her guest post on how her search for answers about depression led her to realizing that child sexual abuse was at the root. This article articulates how hard it is to tell someone and describes the setbacks, … Continue reading "Understanding Depression Led to Facing Sexual Abuse by Tracie Nall"

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Sexual Harassment and the Truth about Freezing in Fear

  I was fifteen or sixteen when I worked in that Real Estate office as a receptionist on the weekends. I answered the phones, and typed offers for the salesmen.  My mother’s disgusting boyfriend got me the job. That should have been the first red flag. There was this one chubby salesman named Ron who … Continue reading "Sexual Harassment and the Truth about Freezing in Fear"

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Understanding Depression and the Sinking I Can’t Breathe Feeling

I realized that depression was a result of something else. There was a root. I had been defined by the actions and communications about me from others. Once I realized that fact, it was only a matter of looking at fasle way that I had been defined and changing it back to the truth. I had hope for recovery from depression for the first time. I fought to get my life back, and I won.

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The Black Hole of Emotional Neglect by Pam Witzemann

By age eighteen, I had experienced so much personal destruction by those claiming to love me that I became as a dying, bitter, old woman with no hope for any future. The only comfort and relief from the constant emotional pain, that I felt physically in my chest, was my drugs. It seemed to me that my drugs loved me better than any human being because they relieved me of having to feel the emptiness inside that grew more powerful by the day....

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