A Gentle Note: Please read with care as this post touches on domestic abuse.
Dear Friends,
A Japanese proverb goes, 自己知識は万事の基準 (Jiko chishiki wa banji no kijun)
“Self-knowledge is the foundation of all things.”
Looking back at my childhood, I have tremendous compassion for that little girl who had to carefully wade through a complex world at such a young age. It was a delicate balance, leading a double life between the charming, sweet side of my father when he was sober, and the darker side that emerged when he wasn’t. His drunken behavior became a shameful secret I quickly learned to hide.
I slowly learned I had to steer through my father’s unpredictable moods. l tiptoed around this minefield, a futile attempt to avoid triggering his anger. There was no escape. I lived hypervigilant, sensitive to even the subtlest changes in his tone or movement. Somehow, I adapted. I put on a brave face despite the turmoil at home. And now, as an adult, I reflect with sadness on how many little children around the world grow up like this, with no choice and no escape.
To the outside world, especially my friends, I tried to present a happier, more polished version of myself. No one knew the truth, the violent outbursts after midnight, the terror, the tears that stung my cheeks, the pounding of my heart as I clung to my plushy brown rabbit, Usako-chan, trembling until exhaustion finally pulled me into sleep.
School became my happy place where I could momentarily escape the misery of home and be a typical student, blending in seamlessly with my classmates. When I went for sleepovers, I marveled at how peaceful and loving my friend’s homes were. I pretended mine was the same. It was my way of seeking acceptance and trying to be someone I thought they would like. And sadly, that’s how I carried on, seeking validation, longing for acceptance. But I was trying to be someone I wasn’t. In fact, I didn’t even know who I was and yet I simply carried on like this. For years. For decades.
So it’s no surprise that I entered my 40s feeling very lost and empty. Depression had set in. The echoes of my childhood still lingered, and the 10 year marriage that followed, in which my Japanese ex husband tried to mold me into his ideal subservient wife, only deepened the confusion. Despite the outward appearance of comfort and his generosity, it proved to be the loneliest period of my life. Eventually, I found the courage to leave, thanks in part to a little Maltese puppy. But after the divorce, I was finally forced to confront myself, peeling back the layers and examining the emotional wounds that had built up over the years.
I went to therapy and began to unravel the complexities of my past. I also started hypnotherapy and found support in the company of a few girlfriends. I was told I needed to forgive my father and that would set me free. I did my best to do so and I gradually began to feel better, I started to slowly move towards independence and rediscovering my own voice.
In time, I tentatively re-entered the world of dating, feeling a mix of intimidation and excitement. But my past left me unsure of how to navigate a healthy relationship. I slipped back into familiar patterns, becoming someone I thought would please my partner. When that relationship ended, I was devastated … and completely confused.
It took five more years of emotional breakdowns and health struggles before I finally realized: I needed a break. A full reset. I just wasn’t sure how to move forward from there.
Then, as these things tend to happen, my stepmother casually mentioned that her friend was finally making headway in healing childhood wounds, thanks to ACA, or Adult Children of Alcoholics meetings. I had never heard of it. I looked it up. I started reading… and didn’t get up for hours. Everything I read rang true. I immediately found a local group.
Slowly, I realized just how much work I had to do to heal the trauma of my childhood. Those experiences, though long in the past , were far from resolved. I learned that “over” or “in the past” does not mean “healed.” That realization changed my life.
I began the hard work of healing. I hated talking about those memories. In fact, I had blocked off so many that bringing them up felt like reliving them all over again. But it was necessary. Sometimes, I wished I had started a decade earlier. But as the saying goes, things come to us when we’re ready.
I’ve noticed a shift within myself. I feel less anxious, more calm, and increasingly gentle and loving toward myself. I’m still reparenting my inner child, but I’ve noticed that I no longer automatically seek validation from others. I’ve become more discerning about who I spend time with, and I’m learning to feel more at home in my own skin.
While I’m still healing, I feel more authentic than ever before. I’m still on the path of self-discovery and continue to struggle with opening up and trusting others, but now, I’m willing to try. And that willingness carries with it a quiet hope and optimism for what lies ahead.
If there’s one thing this journey keeps teaching me, it’s that self-discovery doesn’t come all at once. It’s slow. Unfolding. Sometimes it’s messy and tender at the same time.
Healing isn’t linear and I still have days where I feel like I’m starting from scratch. But I’m learning that it’s okay to show up exactly as I am, even when I don’t have it all figured out.
Some days I carry sadness. Other days, it’s anger, or hope. These feelings still visit, but now I try to meet them with a little more softness. Like old companions who’ve walked with me for years.
If you’re reading this, and if any part of it feels familiar… I just want you to know: you’re not behind. You don’t have to rush. The path might feel long, but you’re already on it. Step by step.
You’re not alone in this.
And whatever’s happened. It doesn’t define you.
There is more to you.
There is more to come.
Like the Winter Camellia. 花は遅くても必ず咲く
(Hana wa osokutemo kanarazu saku)
“Even if the flower blooms late, it will surely bloom …”
If you’re on this journey too, here are a few books that gently supported me along the way.
- Adult Children of Alcoholics by Janet Woititz
- Complex PTSD: From Surviving to Thriving by Pete Walker
- Healing the Shame that Binds You by John Bradshaw
- The Body Keeps the Score by Bessel van der Kolk
- Homecoming: Reclaiming and Championing Your Inner Child by John Bradshaw
- It Didn’t Start With You by Mark Wolynn
If this resonated, you might like : Daily Affirmations for Healing the Child Within and Reclaiming Your Power.