In my early twenties, I had a conversation with my stepmother that still echoes in my mind. She once said to my younger brother and me, “If I’d had a gun back then, I would have used it.” This was her way of expressing remorse for the harsh words she directed at us during our childhood—the threats, the belittling comments, and the mocking tones. It was her way of acknowledging the emotional turmoil that caused us endless guilt and shame during those long, lonely nights when she would leave for days without a word.
I want to accept her apology; I genuinely do. Now that we’re adults, she has softened and is more supportive. We’ve come to realize that she, too, is a product of her own troubled past—likely a victim of verbal abuse herself. But the scars of her words run deep, and it’s challenging to simply let go and forgive.
Her remark about the gun marked the beginning of my journey toward understanding the profound impact of verbal abuse. It’s only recently that I’ve begun to piece together the puzzle of my experience, recognizing that my brother and I were indeed victims of her verbal assaults. I’ve long told myself, “It was just words. She never physically harmed us.” I convinced myself that I should have been stronger and that other children had it worse. After all, there were no visible marks or physical injuries to hide.
Yet, every so often, a friend shares an article that resonates deeply with me—like one from Psychology Today titled “The Long Legacy of Childhood Verbal Abuse”. As I read the descriptions, it feels as if they are speaking directly to my experiences: “In the wake of continued verbal aggression, it’s hard for a child to sort out whether he or she is feeling afraid, shamed, hurt, or angry.” I nod along, remembering the fear I felt as a teenager—how I suppressed my anger until it erupted, only to leave me feeling ashamed.
The article continues, revealing how the internalization of verbal abuse can alter one’s personality, self-esteem, and behavior. The term “self-criticism” may sound mild, but it can spiral into self-hatred. I’ve found myself thinking, “I didn’t succeed because I’m too stupid or worthless” or “No wonder they left; who could genuinely love someone like me?” At this point, I often feel overwhelmed, wanting to throw my computer out the window because the truth stings more than anything else.
Research shows that social rejection—essentially what verbal abuse is—activates the same neural pathways in the brain as physical pain. It’s fascinating yet heartbreaking to learn that parental verbal abuse can permanently alter a child’s brain structure. “Abuse leaves behind a specific legacy,” concludes Psychology Today.
What legacy has it left for me? I often find myself questioning whether I’m exaggerating the effects of her words. “I yell at my kids sometimes. Isn’t that normal?” I wonder. And then it hits me: the verbal abuse has shaped me into someone hesitant to acknowledge the damage done, constantly justifying it and stuffing away my pain.
I can’t forget my stepmother’s comment about the gun; it brought clarity to the reality of my experience. Yes, her words carried a level of violent rage, and I had every right to feel scared and terrorized. Part of me wants to thank her for reminding me of the truth, for validating my feelings.
But what I truly need isn’t an apology, denial, or justification. I need to find my own voice, to confront the effects of abuse, ensuring it doesn’t repeat in my own children’s lives. It’s time to break the cycle and create a life where I recognize my worth and the beauty that has always been within me.
For more insights into the effects and legacies of childhood verbal abuse, check out this insightful blog post. If you’re considering at-home insemination, Make a Mom offers reliable syringe kits to support your journey. Additionally, the CDC provides valuable information on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, verbal abuse is real, impactful, and leaves lasting marks. Recognizing this reality is the first step toward healing and breaking free from its grip.