My Story

 

Some spiritual and new age people say that we choose our parents. We choose them for a reason, because in this life they are our best teachers. 

 

I am not sure that I believe in this idea. But if it is true, their purpose must have been to teach me about suffering, healing and healing others.

 

I most certainly wasn't born in a bubble, but rather into a highly dysfunctional and violent household in the then-Communist Hungary. My parents were both only children without many friends or any social skills. Maybe at one point they loved each other, but they certainly had no idea how to really love and care about someone. There were fights, arguments, bad words, selfishness, neglect and physical abuse between them...and towards me and my brother as well.

 

Early into their marriage their first child was born: yes, that was me. 

 

I have to give props to my mother for choosing her parents wisely: without my amazing grandma and grandpa I would've no chance in life. I will be forever grateful for their love and care.

 

I cannot give props to myself for choosing my own parents though. It had to be a hasty decision. I probably wasn't paying much attention...

 

Neither was my brother who was born 6 years after me. At least choosing each other as siblings was a pretty good one: I love him more than anything.

 

From early on there was a lot of pressure on me. My parents put a lot of stock on intelligence: I had to be smart. In kindergarten I was the only child listing beige as a color, instead of the usual suspects, like blue or red. Starting elementary school, school became everything. I HAD to excel. I was forced to sit at home every afternoon doing homework, extra credit and extra beyond extra credit. Study, practice, rewise. I wasn't allowed to play with my so-called friends, because I had to study. Even if there was nothing else to study, I simply had to sit with my books. Anything below 100% wasn't good enough. If I lost a point, I got yelled at, if I lost 2 or 3, I was beaten. Mostly by mother, however, during evening revisions I've got plenty from my father as well. Despite of being at the top of my class, I recall crying at school because of the lost points that "I will get beaten", being scared of going home, and laying on hallway floor waiting bruised up, crying and taking the punches. I got yelled at and beaten up for many other things too. I was a talkative child, bubbly and also emotional. My mother who was, and still is, the complete opposite of me couldn't handle it and I guess my father just simply had no idea how to deal with me. I suppose their marriage wasn't the best either and I got the worst of it. I remember violence between them and violence against me.

 

I remember being 6 or 7 when I started telling my friends how I hated my parents and wanted them to get divorced. Deep inside I felt that it was wrong to say that and terrible to feel that way.

 

I remember one particular day - I was maybe 9 - a friend was over at our place. I don't exactly remember the circumstances, there must've been an argument, a usual fight, maybe some beating, unsure... One thing I remember though, an argument between my mother and my grandma. My grandma told my mother,  "You don't love your daughter." It hurt. It hurt terribly. Of course the next day, my "friend" told everyone in the area that "Kat's grandma said that her mom doesn't love Kat." and all the kids quickly knew that "Kat's mom didn't love Kat.", that my mom didn't love me. I was in pain. Because I knew it was true: my mom didn't love me. I have never felt the love. I was angry at my friend for telling everyone. I was angry at my mom for not loving me. I was angry at my grandma for recognizing and voicing this. I was most of all angry at myself for being unlovable. I felt that I didn't deserve love from my mom and my dad: I was bad, undeserving of love, and all I deserved was bad words, yelling and beating. I was a piece of trash...

 

And that was the early years.

 

It got worse and worse. And I only felt worse and worse about the situation, about myself and about life...

 

Maybe I was 10 or 11 when their marriage became rather unmanagable, empty and completely broken. That time the abuse against me turned worse as well.

 

At 12, I started high school (early, the kind for the smart kids...), and suddenly noone was pushing me to study. It was kind of like a neglect and looking back, really, there was no more attention. Yes, there was still physical and emotional abuse, but no more care. It was like that my parents stopped caring for the only thing that ever mattered to them: my grades. I stopped studying completely, I started failing and dropped from top to bottom. I became more shy, more withdrawn and more scared. I was depressed. I eventually became suicidal around age 15. I was always living in my head (my imagination), but during my early teens I truly moved in there. Writing kept me alive. Nothing else.

 

The abuse escalated. The physical abuse from my mom lessened as she stopped caring about my grades, but the emotional abuse and emotional neglect had sky-rocketed. In the meantime I started experiencing more and more physical abuse, along with emotional and verbal violence, from my father. As I got older and as their marriage was dying off, I was getting beaten up and yelled at more and more often: daily. It was confusing: teenagers don't get beaten up, they are not supposed to be abused. I didn't even know it was abuse. I knew I was physically and emotional hurt, beaten. I was in pain. I became a depressed terrible teenager, withdrawn and shy, crying and yelling at home. I was 16 when my mother moved out to live with her boyfriend (now husband) and by that time the abuse from my father was unbearable. It only got worse after. It was constant fear and constant abuse. It is pointless to tell you all the details or specific stories. There are worse cases of child abuse and much lighter ones. It is not about comparing apples and oranges. It is about being abused, unloved, hurt and being affected by it in life.

 

To make my story even more complex, perhaps I should briefly mention the emotional abuse I was put under by my teachers and the bullying by my peers. Being a shy and introverted kid, emotionally and physically fragile, craving love, abuse at home, depressed, scared and confused, I was vulnerable and an easy target. I was afraid of everything and everyone. I had noone to trust. I had noone to love me. 

 

When I was nearly 18, my mom remarried and I moved to the US with them. I used the "run-away" and "band-aid" approach trying to heal. It worked for a while, somewhat, but I have never stopped hurting.

 

Because I knew how bad suffering was, I decided to dedicate my life to preventing, understanding and healing from abuse experienced in childhood and adolescence. I studied psychology, education and children's rights. I worked as a social researcher on abuse against children and family violence issues in US inner-cities and in slums and remote villages of Kenya, and I served as a peer educator, peer counselor and volunteer counselor helping girls and women healing from past abuse, healing from emotional wounds, and leading a healthy, balanced life.

 

I immersed myself in the topic of abuse, writing and speaking about it and helping others, but my own healing was stagnating.

 

I didn't understand all the consequences of the abuse I have experienced. I didn't know that to heal I need to approach my life (w)holistically: mind, body and soul, instead of simply trying to run away from them or looking for quick fixes.

 

I knew that my depression, anxiety, low self-esteem and other emotional issues were the result of the abuse I have experienced at home (and at school)... I had no idea that abuse could result in physical pain as well. 

 

I had no idea that healing was possible either...

 

In 2008 I started experiencing chronic hip pains taking me out of my beloved sport, running. In 2009, my frequent headaches became chronic and eventually I had headaches 24/7, non-stop, day and night. I had lived with nearly non-stop, deliberating, chronic headaches for 4.5 years. I had various muscle pains, join pains, neckaches. There was anxiety. Lack of energy. The headaches were the most difficult: I couldn't exist with them, I couldn't work, I simply couldn't function being in pain all the time. I've been living as a global nomad for 6 years now. I've seen many amazing places and had wonderful experiences, yet for many years my first and foremost experience was my chronic headache rather than sights, views and cultures...

 

First I went to traditional medical doctors with no results. Then I discovered holistic nutrition, cleaned up my diet and tried to heal myself with food. But that was only the first step. With new found hope I immersed myself in holistic nutrition, holistic health, alternative medicine, and later in self-development and spirituality to heal my headaches. I gradually changed my diet to plant-based and whole foods. I practice forgiveness and gratitude. I work on my mind and soul every single day: I journal, I self-love, I attend workshops and retreat. I connect with like-minded people. I search, I learn, and I try everything on myself to find out what works for me. I take care of my body, mind and soul as a holistic, unique being. 

 

I healed from my chronic headaches...but my journey did not end there. Holistic health and happiness is a life-long journey: a beautiful ride full of growth and discoveries.  I decided to claim back my life. I decided to love myself fully. I decided to search and to discover what work for me. I decided to take on this healing journey. I decided to live a full and joyful life. I decided to be grateful. I decided to love unconditionally. I decided to smile. I decided to love my life.

 

I healed from my headaches, my chronic pains...but not only that, I healed emotionally. 

 

But why am I telling you this? Because believe it or not, turns out the root cause of my headaches had to do with the relationship with my mother. Because during my healing journey, my inner-work, my self-discovery, my healing sessions, I have realized that each emotional and/or physical struggle I had in life go back to the root-cause; the lack of love, the abuse, the lack of belonging, the lack of support and the dysfunction I had experienced in my childhood. It wasn't just the obvious, like self-esteem or a couple of bruises.

 

Literally everything goes back to this: abuse and healing from abuse. In the process of healing myself physically and emotionally, I forgave my father and I am continuing to take steps making peace with my mother. I am giving love to my Inner Child that helps me live a happy life as an adult now. Every day I am more at peace, every day I am a step further. The trauma of abuse has no power over me anymore. I am truly happy now, and most importantly, I am free.

 

Healing from child abuse is healing myself emotional and physically, mind, body and soul, past, present and future. Healing is a journey. Healing is a beautiful journey I am on. And I wouldn't have it any other way: I guess maybe there was a reason to choose my parents...

 

To read about how I forgave my father, click here.

 

To read about how I claimed back my life, click here and here.

 

To read about my brother, click here.

 

To read more stories about my story, healing journey, life and wisdom, browse here.

 

To get in touch or to work with me, please, send me an email or get in touch via Facebook.