"Heroism consists of hanging on one minute longer" ~ Norwegian Proverb

I remember when I first read this. It was in a story, of a boy and his dog. They went out walking one night and the boy fell through the ice into a lake. The dog went for help and the boy kept himself alive by repeating this, holding himself up by clinging to the ice.

I think by now there must be enough evidence, in my elusive hints, that I did not have a good childhood. I don't intend to keep it a secret. Abuse is kept secret too often, which only feeds the trauma of the one trying to recover. It also doesn't help others going through it. I want to reach the point where I am not held back by fear and can speak openly so others will know they can as well. No one should have to live in silence through any kind of abuse.

My abuse started at a very young age. Such a young age that I cannot remember a time it wasn't happening. My therapists have tried to help me recall an age, but since I am unable - and the farthest back I can remember is the age of one or thereabouts - fear it may have been going on for my whole life, up to the time I escaped.

It was an odd way to grow up. I was kept in isolation, but not in the usual way. My dad likely feared everything would be found out if he just tucked us all away, so we went places. I was home-schooled from first grade on and I believe I now know why he made that choice. (My teachers had begun to pick up on my odd behavior. It could be called self destructive I suppose, for a six or seven year old. I would cut my hair during class and hide it in my desk. They asked me about it and little me tried to deny the whole thing. The next year I was taken out of school. Of course, I had numerous other nervous habits.)

That aside, out of school and stuck at home, it was soul crushing. I became the ideal "be seen and not heard" child. But for a reason I will never understand, I never lost this small spark of rebellion. It usually manifested in an explosive temper and I would lash out at my brothers daily. But it stayed, and it grew. By the time I read this quote, I harbored a burning, massive fiery ball of rebellion and often didn't see it or understand it.

Five years have passed since I was rescued from that. Very often life still feels like a black hole that has snatched me up and will not ever let me go. But then something will happen, such as reading an old quote, and I can step back and see where I am and where I have come from.

My name change is being processed, I now live on my own, providing for myself and finished my first year of college working for my masters with good grades. I often am not thriving, but I am hanging on one minute longer, and we all need to remember that sometimes that is the bravest thing we can do.