In August of 1992 I ran from my home on East Goldsborough Street to the local police station. I arrived sweating, panting, my face red with fury and with the oppressive Northwest Indiana heat. I was 17 years old, and didn’t realize what I was doing until I was faced with a woman on the other side of the thick glass who had tall, red hair, dark glasses, and fading red lipstick, who looked at me with suspicion when I said, “I want to report child abuse”.
Moments later I was led into a room down a dimly-lit hallway where the heavy boot treads of the large officer in front of me echoed off the concrete walls. My heart beat heavy in my throat and I desperately needed water. I dutifully sat down at the table, as instructed, picked at the bleeding cuticles on my fingers, and the officer asked me what I wanted to report.
I looked up at the man, mid-40’s, thick brown hair, mustache, watery blue eyes, and tried to explain that I ran away from my mother who was cruel. I told him that she was critical, mean, neglectful, made me feel like I was useless and a burden, and I couldn’t take living there any longer. It sounded stupid to say it out loud, and after the man wrote in his book, and closed it, he asked a simple, loaded question, “do you have any bruises?”
How do you tell someone that inside you’re a festering pool of pus and blood and pain? No one could see the injuries that were done to me over the course of my childhood. I didn’t even have the words to explain how I felt to the officer sitting in front of me that day who told me there was nothing he could do if I didn’t have bruises, welts, or other marks from physical abuse.
Emotional abuse isn’t something most people would notice. Often, especially around other people, it’s silent, subtle, and chronic.
It includes, but isn’t limited to: constant criticism, belittling, ignoring your emotions, shaming, mocking, or dismissing your needs. It can also include withholding affection, the silent treatment, emotional unpredictability, children expected to act like a parent (parentification), being made to feel guilty over things you cannot control, pitting you against other family members (especially siblings and the other parent in separation situations) or pitting them against you.
Back then, in the 1980’s and the 1990’s, therapists didn’t have knowledge about emotional trauma and its relationship to complex traumatic childhood experiences. They didn’t have training to notice it. As a matter of fact, children who were in therapy who had the strength to tell the truth (the fight response in trauma) were likely ignored. That’s what happened to me, repeatedly. No one listened, no one heard, and no one helped.
Emotional pain matters. It mattered then, and it matters now.
Many survivors think that other people have had it worse than they did, and perhaps that’s true in some cases, but your pain matters anyway. Emotional abuse is invisible, but its impact is severe. The scars it leaves are difficult to see to outsiders, but take a very long time to heal for victims and affects their ability to deal with emotions and have healthy relationships for the rest of their lives.
For many kids, their brains normalize their environments. So, what they experience, even if it’s horrible, abusive, and just plain messed up, to them, it’s just ‘normal’. For kids with emotionally abusive caregivers, their survival depends on loyalty to the parent, not analysis and reflection. It could be very dangerous for a child to recognize that how they are being treated is abuse, especially if the child acted on their realization (ask me how I know).
If a child doesn’t have a flight or fawn or freeze response to their trauma and, like me, was/is a fighter by nature, then their abuser might have said things like this:
“You think your life is bad?”
“You’re too sensitive“
“Everything I do is for you“
“I’m the best [mom] or [dad]“
“This is discipline“
“This is tough love“
“You owe me everything for what I’ve done for you and what I put up with“
“You’re ungrateful“
When people who were emotionally abused grow up, sometimes they recognize that things were not right, but sometimes they don’t. Some people, like me, knew it all along and had no one to save them from the torment. Sometimes people are still drinking that poison-spiked Kool-Aid mommy made and smiling while drinking it because they don’t know any better. Adulthood should bring distance between you and the abuser, and that distance might allow you to see clearly what really happened, especially if you’re experiencing relationship, communication, and emotional issues.
It is very painful to realize you have been abused, and your abuser will not admit what they did, will not admit the way they treated you was wrong, and if you even bring it up, they’ll likely gaslight you and make you feel like it’s your fault. Best to just leave them out of your journey of recognition and healing.
Your feelings are real. Your experiences are valid. Healing starts with acknowledging what happened and accepting that you deserved love then, and you deserve love now. No matter where you are, you are not too late to start healing.
Suggested resources:
Adult Children of Emotionally Immature Parents by Lindsay C. Gibson, PsyD (book)
Running on Empty: Overcome Your Childhood Emotional Neglect by Jonice Webb, PhD (book)
Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving by Pete Walker (book)
Strathearn, L., Giannotti, M., Mills, R., Kisely, S., Najman, J., & Abajobir, A. (2020). Long‑term cognitive, psychological, and health outcomes associated with child abuse and neglect. Pediatrics, 146(4), e20200438. https://doi.org/10.1542/peds.2020-0438 (article)
Photo Credit: Unsplash
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Angela Solic, Ph.D., is an educator, scholar, and advocate whose career spans more than twenty‑five years. She began teaching college‑level reading, writing, and communication in 1998 while earning her master’s degree in English, and later completed her Ph.D. in Education in 2010, a testament to her determination to thrive after surviving extensive childhood trauma. In 2007, Angela transitioned from teaching students to teaching college faculty members. Over the course of her career, she has trained thousands of faculty members worldwide, specializing in instructional design, learning innovation, and evidence‑based teaching practices. In 2018 she created and leads the Center for Teaching Excellence and Innovation at Rush University in Chicago, a hub for educator support, curriculum development, and pedagogical transformation.
Besides being dedicated to improving college teaching, Angela is determined to help advocate for complex childhood trauma, especially emotional abuse, through “The Still I Heal Project”, an Instagram‑based advocacy platform dedicated to educating parents, survivors of emotional abuse, and mental‑health professionals about trauma, resilience, and recovery. You can find out more about her project at stillihealproject.org.