Healing the scars of yesterday - letting go, moving forward

I never expected this to happen. I hoped that one day, I would find peace, but deep down, I never truly believed it. Over time, I just tried to forget, pushing everything to the back of my mind. But then something happened.

I came to visit my parents and my grandma. She had been sick for a while, spending over two weeks in the hospital with pneumonia. I was really scared. She’s not young anymore, but her memory is still sharp. It amazes me how, at 86, she still does crossword puzzles. Seeing her mind so strong, despite everything, was impressive.

But visiting her always bring back memories...memories that shaped me, but not in a good way. It took me years to understand why I was different, why I carried so much weight inside me.

Growing up wasn’t easy. I blocked out a lot. I don’t even know if that was good or bad. I grew up in a loving family, but the love I felt only came from my mother. When my brother got sick, I spent a lot of time alone with my grandma. I loved her… on some days. Other days, I was terrified of her. She was a heavy alcoholic. Some days, she was kind and loving, but then there were the dark days...days when she was drunk, aggressive, and out of control. I was just a child. What could I do? Nothing. Just hide, watch, and be scared.

I remember when she finally went to a sobriety program. For the first time, my home was quiet. No more police, no more ambulances, no more screaming. But I couldn’t trust the peace. I went to bed every night waiting for it to break. But after a year, I started to believe—maybe, just maybe, this nightmare was over. And it was. Twenty years of sobriety.

But she never said the words I needed to hear.

She never said, “I’m sorry for ruining your childhood.”

I was always afraid to tell her how much pain she caused me. The nights I hid under the bed, crying. The way she almost destroyed my parents’ marriage. The way she shattered me. She gave me so much trauma, and for a long time, I didn’t even accept that it affected me. But it did. Even now, a simple sound at night makes my heart race, my body freeze. I carry those fears with me still.

A few days ago, everything came to the surface. My family and I were out, talking and laughing, and I had a few beers. When we got home, my grandma wanted to talk about her health. She complained that no one had time for her, that we ignored her. And then, for the first time in my life, I told her the truth.

“Do you even know why?” I asked. “Do you even realize why I sometimes keep my distance?”

She thought it was because I was too busy.

And then I exploded. I told her everything. The way she destroyed my childhood. The fear. The pain. The nights I spent hiding, the times she threw things, screamed, broke glass, even held a knife near me. I reminded her of the day she got so drunk she threw my new radio—the one she had bought me—down the stairs and said I didn’t deserve it.

She looked at me, stunned. “I did those things to you?” she whispered. “I thought I only hurt your parents, not you.”

“Yes, Grandma. I remember everything.”

For the first time in my life, she apologized. And then she tried to give me money, as if that could erase the past. But I didn’t want her money. I only ever wanted one thing...an apology.

And finally, I got it.

I realized something that day. I had been holding onto this pain for so long, waiting for something I thought would never come. And now that it had, I felt lighter. The past will always be a part of me, but it doesn’t have to control me.

Life is beautiful. And despite everything, I am lucky. I have a husband who loves me, who helped me see how my past was still affecting me. And with him, I have built a life I truly love.

I have faced my past, and I have accepted it. And now, maybe I can finally move forward.

“Though no one can go back and make a brand new start, anyone can start from now and make a brand new ending.” — Carl Bard

With love, @tinabrezpike ❤️