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August 2017


    The Power of Words – How parents Can Avoid Being Their Child’s First Bullies

    I came from very abusive parents. I grew up feeling as If I were the ugly duckling but, without the happy end of becoming a beautiful swan. I struggled and still do to feel confident, to look at the mirror and not have that message that was “formatted” early in my mind similar to how computers or networking systems. I am reminded by the thoughts that say: “ you’re ridiculous”, “ you’re incapable to do anything right”, or the classic one I heard my whole life from my mother that gave birth to three girls : “xx (my youngest sister) is the most beautiful daughter I have, and then xxx (my older sister) but, you Lana, you’re not ugly”.
    I can’t control my tears every time I remember all those moments of the corrupted information that my parents input to my mind as can happen with corrupted memory on computers. I discovered too late that all of those were lies but lies were the only thing I knew as a child. I thought that I was a bad person, ugly inside and out and this was the platform that my pre-formated mind lived in for many years, trained to believe on what I heard.
    At the tender age of 12, I had my first episode of depression. I had no friends, no parents to speak to and my two sisters that were close to each other but ignored me. I was alone in my darkness and after having it instilled in my mind of my imperfection and that my mother did not love me as much she loved my sisters.
    Some people do not understand what depression is and how difficult for those of us that are depressed, and how bravely we are fighting to not feel this way. Think of depression as if you were in a deep hole, you’re struggling to reach out the surface but, no matter what you do you simply can’t get out without help from someone outside.
    I always have been a very responsible student. I woke up every morning at 6am without my mother needing to bother to come to my room and drag me out of bed. I always had good grades but, not that year. I was lost, and didn’t care about school, I didn’t bother totake a bath, brush my teeth or hair. I spent my days alone in my room. For several times I tried to speak to my parents just to be told “if you have depression then why haven’t you tried to kill yourself already?”.
    I do not blame my parents. Maybe they were just two ignorant people that without intent marked a kid’s heart forever with deep scars. I had no way out or at least I thought I hadn’t, until I met a good friend or someone that would be my best friend forever. He was a “fun kid”, he fulfilled different roles, and provided me what I needed most. He knew how to be wise and how to whisper in my ears, “you’re worthy.”

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