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Overcoming Childhood Trauma: A Journey of Resilience
Nothing could energize those small-town cheerleaders quite like a trip to an out-of-town football game. The bus was filled with laughter, pom-poms, and chatter as we headed to Mobile, optimistic about the night ahead. However, the excitement soon faded into another heartbreaking loss. Still, our school spirit and the lingering scents of glitter spray kept the mood light.
As we talked about boys and the usual teenage drama, a game of Truth or Dare ignited. Knowing the “dare” was risky, I opted for truth, thinking my life wouldn’t provide any juicy confessions.
“Okay, Ava… what’s the most intimate you’ve ever been with a guy?” The girls leaned in, eager for my response. My answer, however, was a letdown, met with boos and tossed pom-poms.
The truth was far darker. The abuse had started when I was just in second grade, still clinging to my stuffed animals. It was a shadowy figure that haunted my nights, leaving me to wish I could disappear. My neon yellow dinosaur was my only source of comfort during those harrowing times.
On the bus ride home that night, tears streamed down my face—my friends likely thought it was just school spirit gone sour. But I was on the verge of a decision that would change everything. It took weeks, but I finally decided to speak up, and my life became a whirlwind.
Fast forward to senior year: every Wednesday was Current Affairs Day in History class. We’d summarize articles from the newspaper, and I remember rushing to the table that day, flipping through the pages. My heart sank as I spotted a familiar name.
Thirty minutes later, a classmate was summarizing an article about a local man arrested for sexually abusing a minor. She casually remarked, “Ew, how gross is that?” My heart raced. The trial began just before graduation, and while it was a dreadful reminder of my past, it was also a relief that it might finally be over. The plea bargain was reached quickly—guilty but no prison time. It felt like my trauma had ended.
But, real life isn’t that simple. I entered college with wounds I hadn’t recognized, making poor choices in an effort to cope. I sought solace in dark places, leading to failed classes and strained friendships. I was shattered, and fractured pieces don’t always function normally.
I’ve thought about sharing my journey for years, believing that real stories of pain can lead to hope. However, I struggled to find the right words. I’ve come to realize that surviving abuse isn’t a victory in the traditional sense. I haven’t fully overcome my pain, nor will I ever. That pivotal event altered my childhood irrevocably.
Still, there is a triumph in my journey. I’m committed to minimizing the impact of that trauma as a mother, a partner, and simply as a person. Writers may love tidy conclusions, but life often doesn’t offer neat resolutions. Yes, I’m happily married with a wonderful child and many blessings. Yet, gratitude doesn’t erase the scars of the past.
This message goes out to anyone who needs to hear it—whether you’ve faced abuse or know someone who has. Your trauma may differ from mine, but that’s irrelevant. Being a survivor doesn’t mean your pain vanishes; it means you learn how to navigate it. It doesn’t rewrite your history; it empowers you to shape your future. Surviving doesn’t mean you’ve turned your struggles into something sweet. It signifies that, despite sour experiences, you continue to believe in the sweetness of life.
In time, you’ll find that the pain resurfaces less often, as your mind seeks brighter places. Though shadows may linger, you’ll be a survivor because you refuse to stop believing in the light. If you’ve faced any form of abuse, remember there’s no shame in your story. It belongs to you alone, whether you keep it private or share it. You’re never alone, and while the journey can be tough at times, it does get better.
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In summary, surviving childhood trauma is a complex journey filled with challenges and victories. It’s important to acknowledge the pain while also embracing the strength that comes from overcoming it.