“It’s OK to not be OK” is an expression I wished was around when I was growing up. In my day, it was more like, “What happens behind closed doors stays behind closed doors.” Or, “Be seen, not heard.” Children who acted out were considered to be troublemakers.
At no point in time during my childhood did anyone utter the words mental health. Even my suicide attempt at age 8 was defined as “childhood misadventure.” From then on, I swore to never talk about how I felt or the things that were happening to and around me.
It didn’t matter, and I didn’t matter. No one would listen anyway. My abuse started when I was 6 months old, and continued until I was 14.
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