Like many others I finished reading (well listening to the audiobook) of Jennette McCurdy's memoir "I'm Glad My Mom Died" and it was a lot to unpack.

Let me just preface this for people in that much of what Jennette went through, and much of what I am going to mention of my own experience in reflection, isn't pretty. So if you skip this post that's fine, I understand.

Being abused and mistreated by someone who is supposed to love you, care for you and want nothing but your best interests in heart is a wound that is hard to heal from. It's an unsettled disbelief to be confronted with the fact that the person you love did not treat you right, it creates anger, denial and a lot of pain. It is hard to accept.

Jennette was manipulated, gas lit, violated and abused over and over again until it became her normal. Until she was unable to stop the reactions of wanting to please her mother, needing to have her approval, succumbing to the eating disorders that stole years of her childhood and life. It took her years to come to terms with what happened to her and accept help from others to heal from it. And while that is just a small portion of what she went through I believe the rest is better left to her own telling. Which if think you are able to read this book I highly recommend you do.

Unfortunately I had to face reality in regards to people who raised me and were staples in my life as well. Denial and anger that there was no way I was mistreated growing up, people were lying to me & trying to turn me against people I had known all my life. "They don't know what it's really like. They (the abusers) just want what's best for me, they love me." But that's the thing I've come to learn about abuse, it doesn't always happen all at once. Often it's like the frog in water, slowly boiling until it's too hot to be able to leave and the damage is done all before you even realize it got hotter at all.
The comments under the guise of 'being concerned for you' or the barks of anger masked as 'trying to help'.
- If only you didn't eat so much you would be able to fit into the same clothes all the other little girls wear.
- If you were more like your brother we wouldn't have to try to correct (yell at) you all of the time.
- You don't need to do those activities/sports. You'll get bored and quit, then it'll be a waste of money
- You don't need as much (to eat) as your sisters, you're big enough as is it don't you think?

And if these are the comments the people who say they love you make then the similar comments from people who are meant to be your friends don't seem nearly as wicked and cruel. They seem normal, certainly expected and in a very twisted way they seem kind.
- No one wants to date the fat girl.
- No one here likes you anyways, I don't know why you joined.
- Your snort when you laugh must be because you're a little piggy.
- We don't hang out with people who can't buy their own lunches.
- They talk to you because they feel sorry for you.

Things, along with so many others, that I heard over and over again. Piling into years of self hate, of swapping between eating disorders, of self harm and attempts, of isolating myself, of lashing out because how could a child understand it's not their fault? Snowballing until the inevitable crash at the bottom. It is hard to heal from those things, to admit that something was wrong and most importantly to admit it wasn't your fault. And while it can help to create much kinder and understanding people it can also rob you of the chance to be anything at all.

I am glad that one of my abusers died.

I am glad that I no longer have to force a smile and an "I love you" when inside I screamed to ask why they never loved me too. It was the first of many weights to be lifted to try and heal the hurt that had been caused I never wanted to admit was there. These experiences shaped me into who I am. I will no longer pretend it was all okay and that nothing was ever wrong, I won't bite my tongue and stay silent so that no one thinks differently of me.

And while it's not the full story, because how can you sum up 26 years into a post when it took Jennette an entire book to explain a fraction of her 30, it is a start. It breaks the silence which is the only way to break the cycle and to heal.