I started hiding when I was very young but what I can remember the most was during my elementary days where I lost my umbrella. I dropped by at the church every day before going home for several weeks pleading to God to help me. The apprehensions I felt made me lie to my Mom when asked about that umbrella. Sometime I will tell her I left it at school or it was accidentally brought by my classmates until I run out of alibis. I cannot recall much of what happen if I was scolded or not. The fear of being found out was the only thing prominent after those recollections.
I play hard to get on my teens. Attracting boys to boost my self esteem then dropped them off when caught with my bait was the game I used to do. No doubt, guys found me insane during that time already. They never knew the feelings and the thought of unworthiness I keep within. I know then that I am not worthy, that nobody will love me and I am less than all the girls at school and I don’t measure up. I live with the fear of being found out dirty and I pretended to be clean until I met my future husband.
Later in life I realized I was saved by the mask I used from changing partners which is common among sexually abused individual. But I bring with me the fear of being found out with my married life. I hide many little secrets, disappointments, feelings, desires and most especially money to my husband. I pretended to be okay when in fact things were not. The habit of hiding the truth was so ingrained until I don’t only hide something from my husband but from every people I encountered and deal with.
It became a constant struggle. Every phone calls and mails made my heart beat past for fear of collecting agencies from creditors to whom I hide. Sometimes the anxiety of being found out by my husband who had no idea of the financial chaos I got myself into was more profound than the anxiety I felt from the collectors itself. This situation almost broke down my family. Beneath the fear of being found out were the fear of being rejected and unloved and the apprehensions of being hurt.
Sexually abused children like myself lives in the dark hiding and getting out in the open had never been an easy task. Giving it a voice through writing lost its grip and power over me. Believing that every creature in itself is good whatever I may find out is liberating. Accepting myself for who I am (a good creation of God) and what happened to me is the only way I can live in the light.