I am going to begin at the beginning..That is a good place to start.
I have been writing about my journey dealing with fear, anxiety and agoraphobia since 2008 in print form and then from 2010 to current in the blog form.
Growing up, I felt like my life was just like every other kids, but in reality I am just now figuring out how different my life was. I was always afraid. I was always worried that somehow or someway I was going to get in trouble and be beaten. I always lived my life wondering what was wrong with me, even from as early of the age as 4 or 5 years old. I knew that my parents were never happy with anything I ever did or didn’t do, even though I was a well behaved little girl. I grew from the age of 4 or 5 being beaten for wetting the bed to a girl in junior high that was beaten, grounded, kept up all hours of the night because I couldn’t understand my geometry and this was my “punishment”. I grew from that fearful young girl into a woman that lived in fear of many things, but more importantly just barely “lived.” I loved God and believed that He sent His son to die on the cross for my sins, but for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. I was the black sheep of the family no matter how well my grades were in school, how well behaved I was, if I graduated from college, stayed married or had great children. None of it was good enough to somehow be accepted.
Trust was a huge issue for me and I believe that is where much of my fear orignated from. When you feel like you cannot trust your own parents and that they certainly do not have your best interest at heart, how in the world do you trust yourself or anyone else?
When I was 16 years old, I had a horrible car accident which almost took my passengers life, who was my best friend. Years of abuse from my parents escalated in this moment, to the point of wishing I had died in that car wreck. The abuse, both mental and physical, I suffered at their hands for the months and years after, was almost worse than dying I belive. I could not understand why they were not thankful that I survived the wreck, but it almost seemed like they were upset that I lived. I only heard how awful I was and how much money the wreck took from them and the family. I was continually told how I deserved all of the horrible treatment I received.. I was being “punished” for the accident and for lying to them about what happened. For almost 2 weeks after the wreck, my parents led me to believe that my friend had died and I believe that they did this so that they could see the pain and anguish I was in believing she had died. This was the type of atmosphere I grew up in on a daily basis.
Fear grew and grew. Distrust of everyone only magnified. Doubt and depression became my best friends because I had no one else. I was not allowed to go to school after the wreck due to my physical injuries, which this only intensifed the feeling of being alone. I saw my home school teacher 2 times a week but that was the only outside contact I had with anyone. My friends from school had abandoned me because of the way my parents treated them at the hospital and later when they tried to visit, so basically, all of my friends quit making the effort. Alone and lonely on top of fear and doubt. The world of this 16 year old girl was very small and she had no sense of what true love was or if she was even worthy of love. Angie(ME) didn’t believe she was worth anything and the condemnation I received daily from my parents did not help the situation. I was constantly told that I had some kind of “mental” disorder because there was no reason to be so fearful,anxious and depressed. Yet, the responsibility of seeking help for me was their as parents, but by doing this, they would have to answer to authorities for their actions, so therapy or counseling was not offered to me in any form or fashion.
That is all for today. Check back for the next post. The journey just began but the finale is much better than the beginning. Thankfully, God has done a tremendous work in my life.