For Years, I Let Fear Silence Me. Not Anymore.

I never thought I'd make it to 25...

Photo by Hassan OUAJBIR on Unsplash

“I had no idea, Charlie, I mean, I never could have imagined,” she says. “I’ve got goosebumps, really.”

It’s been a while since I told my story to someone new. When I was younger, I used to vomit it on anyone who gave me a kind smile and looked directly in my eyes.

It stopped hurting long ago, and thus, it doesn’t live in the back of my throat, looking for any opportunity to hurl itself outward.

“Wait, how did you see me, then?” I ask her. We met three years prior, and life has kept us in each other’s orbits ever since. Sure, we’ve never been close, but we have spent many lazy Sundays together.

“I mean, I always thought of you as calm and quiet; someone who doesn’t like drama and doesn’t cause problems. I thought you weren’t close to your family because you guys butt heads. I never could’ve imagined this.”

This refers to the horrific story and the quiet strength it has given me.

I Pulled Back the Curtain

It’s like I’ve been unintentionally playing a magic trick for three years, and I’m just now pulling the curtain back and letting her see the truth.

Underneath the shock, there lingers a different question; if she couldn’t detect this wound I try to hide, is it possible the wound is no longer there?

Has the once-obvious trauma become undetectable?

She looks at me with new respect and awe, a shock on her face that portrays me as a victor, someone who has beaten all the odds and unassumingly has more power than anyone else she knows.

It’s this power that I run from most.

Over the past two weeks, I’ve realized that this invisible curtain I pulled back for her lies between me and everyone else I know at varying levels of density.

It’s brought a brand new, gnawing question to the forefront of my mind:

Why Don’t I Let Anyone See Me?

Even though I logically know my story isn’t my fault, it remains the dense, tall, black shadow that clings to me everywhere I go. My trauma, effectively, has become a paradox: the story of it my deepest shame and the overcoming of it, my proudest accomplishment.

Researching Shadow Work so intensely these past few weeks has felt a lot like waltzing with my shadow, trying to slowly regain the lead and focus on the steps, and not on the gigantic ball of misery and fear wrapped around me.

It’s shown me how far I’ve come, and also, it has shown me all the ways in which I still run from myself.

I Run From Myself By Rejecting My Truth.

For many years, I was labeled by my parents, the police, and my peers. Even though I was truthful, my truth was so horrific and unbelievable, I was branded “just an attention seeker”.

Even though I am now believed by everyone who once doubted me, the pain of being discredited lingers.

I hide my truth away because I’m scared others will come along and label me a liar again. But this theoretical cruelty is just an illusion, and the fear holding me back.

I can’t let fear control me any longer.

Here Is My Truth.

Please forgive me, but I don’t know how to tell my story gracefully.

It falls out of me in chunks and significant moments with an overall confusing timeline. Really, the specifics don’t really matter, and a graceful and empowering retelling will come in time.

I can’t keep hiding from my past any longer. I need to get it out.

My name is Charlie and I am an adult survivor of severe childhood abuse.

My parents divorced when I was 5 years old. In the year that followed, my mom emotionally checked out and never recovered, and my dad got addicted to methamphetamine.

For years, I was subject to physical, emotional, and sexual abuse as well as severe neglect and parentification. I wasn’t believed or listened to by my parents, my classmates, or the police. I grew up ignored, isolated, and suicidal.

I first made a plan to kill myself at 13. Over the years, similar attempts followed, culminating in a near death experience at 17. My survival of this final attempt, by all medical opinions, was nothing short of a miracle.

I didn’t feel lucky at the time. Now, I see the miracle in it.

I left home as soon as I turned 18 and made a ton of mistakes, like getting caught up in a group of stoners, getting involved in abusive relationships, and taking extremely poor care of myself. I got a lot worse before I got better.

When I was 22, I gave everything up and started solo-traveling, which, while full of extremely high highs and low lows, saved me.

It forced me to recognize my flaws, my strengths, and how to choose myself. By visiting foreign cultures, I got to reparent myself, picking and choosing what worked best for me from all the lifestyles I voyeuristically lived.

It gave me spirituality, true self-care, better hygiene, eating, and exercising habits, as well as a plethora of genuine connections. It taught me how to love well and be loved in return, which gave my life a vibrant color it never had before.

Here I am now, a month short of 25, and I feel like I’ve finally finished climbing this mountain.

This Is The Pride Of My Life.

I want you to know the story behind who I am, because I want you to trust me.

I have lived through hell. The first 18 years of my life were one shitty card dealt to me after another. I have nearly every adverse childhood experience possible; statistically, the odds of me ever living a healthy life are slim to none.

But I did it.

I found happiness and healing.

I am no one special.

I was not born with superhuman strength or determination. I have made my fair share of mistakes, and I have royally screwed up more times than I count. I am a person just like you. No more, no less.

If I can do it, so can you.

If you want to do it, I’ll give you everything I know, because I know, firsthand, just how hard it is. I want you to find your happiness. I want you to heal. I want my story, my experiences, and my knowledge to be useful to you.

Whatever you have been through, if you’re ready to heal from it, I write for you.

Is healing impossible?

No. I’m proof it’s not.

There is absolutely nothing about me that makes me any better than you. We both bleed the same. We are both products of this same world. I believe in you just as much as I believed in myself.

Happiness is your birthright. It is your responsibility to yourself to dedicate everything you have in going after it.

Work In Progress

If you’ve been following me for a while, you’ll know I’ve gone through many transformations as a writer.

Another transformation is coming.

In honor of a new era of embracing my truth, I’ve changed my profile picture to (finally) be one that clearly shows my whole face. I’ve also changed the name of my Substack to Happiness With Charlie.

More changes are on the way! I hope you’ll stick around for the ride.