“Peace is not a privilege. It’s a right.”
Funny how a lifetime of enduring abuse can suddenly reach a breaking point, like that ordinary late Saturday afternoon in May. The kids played upstairs, I was cooking dinner, and in walked my husband, ready to unleash his usual harassment.
I came from family toxicity, and he knew it. Instead of support, he used it as a manipulation tactic to keep me feeling small. Psychological abuse involves this type of manipulation tactic that is intended to push your buttons and intentionally pick your wounds and vulnerabilities for the purpose of hurting you and feeding their need for power and control.
He continued to get my attention and chose to randomly spit out rude accusations and comments relating to things I was sensitive about- my toxic, unsupportive and dysfunctional family. I had nowhere to turn, what was I going to do? I felt trapped and he knew it. He took advantage of that for years. But that day, I received it very differently. Desperate situations called for desperate measures.
In that moment, my heart raced, and a wave of emotions hit me—powerlessness, helplessness. I felt lost, confused, and alone. A deep feeling of desperation and despair took over. The pain of staying the same outweighed the pain of change, even if that change involved ending it all. All I craved was peace, but the life I unintentionally created seemed far from it. I was ready to give up.
In desperation, I overdosed on whatever medications I could find. A desperate cry for help unfolded in front of him. He watched until the last pill went down. I went to bed, and what seemed like hours later, the paramedics forcefully entered my locked bedroom, which ended up being the beginning of a transformative journey.
When we got to the ambulance, the paramedic inquired what happened after which I vaguely and helplessly replied, “It’s my situation.” His response was one I will never forget. He bluntly responded with these exact words in a judgmental tone, “So get out of your situation.” It was a no- brainer for him. That’s when the realization hit—no one cares and no one is coming to save me. It was time to help myself. I was ashamed and was done being weak. It was time for a change.
After three weeks of contemplation in the hospital, I took the driver’s seat of my life and began my healing journey. This eventually lead to curating the life I really came here to live.
The realization that peace is a not a privilege, but a right, was what motivated me to finally begin standing up for myself.
In any given moment, we have two choices: blame others and wait for change, or take control and create our future, even if it seems impossible. This was the beginning of a new chapter for me. Sometimes things have to get worse before they get better.
Visit www.bravezone.ca to schedule a call with me and embark on your journey to self-discovery and transformation.