Photo by Jen Theodore for Unsplash
For the Teenager
Hindsight as an adult offers answers to questions that I didn’t know as a teenager. As a teen, I didn’t know there were different types of mental abuse that shaped me as I grew up. I also didn’t know there were ways to reclaim power from the seed of mental abuse. Now I understand that we don’t have to wait to so long to do so.
The Voice of a Teenager
When I was a teenager, I loved reaching for high notes in my vocal lessons. I loved studying poetry and writing lyrics. Dreaming! When my final recital was nearing, my mother, reaching for the laundry detergent said “you’ll never be famous.” Fast-forward to this recital that she missed: I messed up the lyrics, swore under tears, and walked off stage and into the dark audience toward my Dad and friend.
I didn’t expect to be a famous singer, but I did want to be seen and heard as a good singer, especially by my mother. Under the lights, however, I couldn’t see or hear myself as being good. I just heard the translation of “you’ll never be famous” turn into “You’re not good enough” whether it was true or not. Throwing insensitive beliefs at a teenager can be felt as emotional abuse. Many people overlook the fact that everything that happens during adolescence stays in the mind and body, whether remembered or not.
The (Un) Conditional Love of a Mother
As time went on, I still wanted to be heard, but as a writer. During my 20’s, my mom told me not to share my story about feeling moved during a yoga pose on social media because “there are predators out there.” In addition to her wanting to limit my singing voice, she wanted my mental voice — that strengthened over years — to be limited as well. Trying to protect me in this way wasn’t appropriate, it was disrespectful. I had already been sexually abused at 13 — when the family wasn’t looking — so my mom starting to protect me as an adult was moot.
The nurturing gene has never truly been activated with my mother so when I’d jump at a loud noise and react, she’d yell at me saying “You’re fine, don’t be so dramatic!” The fact that the noise startled and hurt the side of my body with Cerebral Palsy didn’t make her inclined to comfort or check-in with me when it occurred. This sort of mental abuse took on the role of negligent parenting. I often wondered what’d it be like to have a mother who’d pat my hand or sit with me as I waited for the shock of the jump to wear off.
Toolbox of Honesty
Through my mother’s control and lack of nurturing, I never forgot to be honest with myself about who I was and what my needs were. Being honest was how I created tools to reclaim my power from mental abuse. In this letter for the teenager, here is what I do with my honesty tools:
- I continue writing my truths: The moment when my mother tried silencing my writing voice taught me that when someone tells us not to share our truths, it’s more urgent that we do because we’ll reclaim power.
- I sing to reclaim safety: Playing certain songs from when I was younger, before mental abuse got planted, attracts my vocal cords like a magnet. Before I know it, I’m liberating myself and returning to innocence.
- I dance through mental scars: Sometimes returning to innocence is easier said than done and for those times, I stomp my feet and watch myself dancing to music. I move the mental abuse outward that’s been pent-up in my shoulders, breath, and muscles.
- I seek authentic qualities: Mental abuse makes it hard to trust new people. If I’m starting to bond with someone, I look for one authentic quality they have such as listening to the story of a child or protecting their siblings. This helps me trust their character and it also helps me trust my own instincts.
- I sit with pain to let it pass: When my mother wasn’t home and I jumped, I started teaching myself to sit with the pain. I don’t want to numb and invalidate my feelings with “You’re fine” if I’m not. Sometimes this means letting out a few screams or a few sobs. But to do so means I replace mental abuse with unconditional love for myself. From myself.
Passing on the Legacy
My hope is that current teenagers don’t feel the need to wait for adulthood to create a healing toolbox. Remember honesty and the tools will find their way.
