In my early adulthood, I had a troubling conversation with my stepmother, who once remarked to my brother and me, “If I’d had a gun then, I would have used it.” This chilling statement was her attempt to apologize for the hurtful words she had thrown at us during our childhood—words that belittled, threatened, and mocked. It represented her regret for those days when she would leave in anger, leaving us consumed by guilt and confusion over what we had done to provoke her.
Accepting her apology has proven challenging. Now that we are adults, her demeanor has softened, and she shows support for us. It’s clear that she carries her own scars from a past that likely involved verbal abuse. Yet, the shadow of her words looms large over my understanding of my own experiences.
For years, I dismissed the impact of her words, convincing myself that verbal abuse was not as damaging as physical harm. I often thought, “It was just words; she never physically hurt us.” I would tell myself that I was stronger than that and that other children had it way worse. After all, there were no visible marks, no physical pain to speak of.
Then, a friend shared an article from Psychology Today titled “The Long Legacy of Childhood Verbal Abuse.” As I read the descriptions of a verbal abuse victim, I felt as if the author was articulating my own experience. The article noted, “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 remembered the fear I felt and how I would bottle up my anger, only for it to erupt later in ways that embarrassed me.
The article continued, stating that the internalization of critical and shaming words can alter one’s personality and self-esteem. The term “self-criticism” seemed deceptively benign, yet it could easily spiral into self-hatred. I recognized that I often attributed my failures to character flaws, thinking, “I am too stupid and worthless to succeed,” or “No one could love me.”
Reading these words brought tears to my eyes, and I felt an overwhelming urge to throw my computer out of frustration. The truth of those statements pierced deeper than any physical wound. I sought out the studies referenced in the article, learning that social rejection, akin to verbal abuse, activates the same areas of the brain as physical pain. Research also indicated that parental verbal abuse can permanently alter a child’s brain structure, often with negative consequences.
Psychology Today concluded that abuse leaves behind a specific legacy. I pondered what kind of legacy my experiences had left me. Doubts crept in, leading me to wonder if I was exaggerating my feelings. I thought, “I yell at my children sometimes; isn’t that normal?”
But the realization hit me—this experience had shaped me into a woman who hesitates to acknowledge her pain. I make excuses for it and try to suppress it, battling against the turmoil within. My stepmother’s remark about the gun served as a stark reminder of the intensity of her words. Yes, they carried a violent undertone, and I had every right to feel terrified.
What I truly need is not an apology or a justification. I need to find my voice and stand against abuse in all its forms, ensuring my children never experience anything like it. I aim to break the cycle and forge a new path—one where I embrace my worth and feel the power that should have been instilled in me all along.
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Summary:
Verbal abuse is a profound issue that can leave lasting emotional scars, often going unrecognized due to the absence of physical evidence. It shapes self-esteem and behavior, manifesting deep-rooted feelings of inadequacy and fear. Acknowledging the impact of verbal abuse is crucial for healing and breaking the cycle for future generations. Finding one’s voice and standing against such abuse can lead to personal empowerment and healthier family dynamics.