I knew I was emotionally abused long before I ever said it out loud. I knew it in the quiet moments when my chest tightened for no reason, when I couldn’t stand up for myself, when I felt small in rooms I should have felt safe in.
But knowing it and feeling it are two different things.
The truth hit me the moment I became a father.
A Tiny Life, A Massive Truth
When my daughter was born, I looked at her tiny face… perfect, innocent, completely dependent on me. In that moment, I felt every piece of my childhood at once. The yelling. The fear. The feeling that I was never enough, never safe to be myself, never allowed to just be a kid.
I promised her….right then, in that hospital room…that she would never feel what I felt growing up. And that promise forced me to see my life for what it really was: an open wound I hadn’t dealt with.
A Complicated Truth About My Mother
Growing up, it was my father who was abusive. He was the one who yelled, belittled, and made our home feel like walking on eggshells. But my mother….I loved my mother in my own way.
When I held my daughter, though, a new kind of anger and sadness showed up. Not just at my father, but at my mother too. Because I realized she didn’t protect me. She couldn’t, or wouldn’t, or didn’t know how….but the fact is, she didn’t.
She died on December 2, 2019. When she passed, I felt grief, but if I’m honest, I also felt relief. A part of me finally felt free to say out loud what I’d always carried inside: that she let me down when I needed her most. Loving her and resenting her at the same time has been one of the hardest truths for me to sit with. In a future post, I will also share the story of how I found out she died, and let me tell you it is a crazy story.
That day in the hospital with my daughter, I understood what it means to be a parent in a way I never had before. To stand between your child and the world, to be their shield when they can’t defend themselves.
She didn’t do that for me. And that’s a wound I’m still learning how to forgive.
Why It Hurt So Much
When you’re a kid, abuse feels normal. Chaos feels like home. You grow up thinking it’s just life. You make excuses for the people who hurt you….they didn’t mean it, they had it worse, it wasn’t that bad.
But when you hold your own child, you realize how wrong that was. You can’t imagine doing to them what was done to you, or standing by while someone else did. And you understand just how deep the damage really goes.
What I Did Next
I wish I could tell you I fixed it all right away. I didn’t. I still messed up. I still carried my old patterns into adulthood, into my relationships, into how I treated myself.
But that moment cracked me open. It made me start telling the truth. It made me start doing the work….therapy, reflection, accountability, owning my story instead of burying it.
That promise to my daughter is still my compass. She saved me from staying blind.
Maybe You’ve Had a Moment Too
Maybe your moment was holding your child. Maybe it was hearing your own parent’s voice come out of your mouth when you swore you’d never be like them. Maybe it was looking in the mirror one day and finally seeing yourself….tired, angry, small.
Whatever it was, hold onto it. Those moments matter. They’re your doorway to something better.
Closing Line:
Next time on Tattooed Truths, I’ll start to share the stories from my childhood… the moments that shaped me, broke me, and made me who I am. Because if we’re going to break the cycle, we have to be brave enough to look back first.
We’re in this together.
#TattooedTruths #ChildhoodEmotionalAbuse #BreakingTheCycle