Shatter the Silence

L. D. Smith

Description

LD Smith knew life had been different for her, harder than it should have been. At the age of 12, she began feeling sad much more often than her friends, who seemed fairly happy with their lives. But it was at age 12 that the abuse began and LD first attempted suicide. I lie in bed fearing the sound of footsteps on the stairs. Footsteps now in the hall. The door opens. The door closes quietly. Then the sound I fear the most, the click of the lock as the signal my nightmare is about to begin again... Adult survivors of abuse and molestation and those with mental illness are often told to remain silent, to discuss their lives in dark corners and in hushed tones. Shatter the Silence seeks to break that cycle as LD Smith candidly and eloquently tells the story of her own journey-and it is not pretty. It is not a fairy tale, and unfortunately it is reality for so many. She invites you to join her and learn what being strong really entails. Know that it is possible to stand proud and speak loudly the story of survival.

Sujets

• Santé et bien-être
• Développement personnel
• Santé mentale & traumatisme
• Santé mentale
• Santé mentale
• Motivational
• Inspirational
• Self-help
• développement personnel

Informations

• Publié par: Outskirts Press
• Date de parution: 11 octobre 2017
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781478792291
• Langue: English

Extrait

Shatter the Silence
All Rights Reserved.
Copyright © 2017 L.D. Smith
v2.0

The opinions expressed in this manuscript are solely the opinions of the author and do not represent the opinions or thoughts of the publisher. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

This book may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

Outskirts Press, Inc.
http://www.outskirtspress.com

ISBN: 978-1-4787-9229-1

Library of Congress Control Number: 2017911449

Cover Photo © 2017 thinkstockphotos.com. All rights reserved - used with permission.

Outskirts Press and the “OP” logo are trademarks belonging to Outskirts Press, Inc.

PRINTED IN THE UNITED STATES OF AMERICA
Dedicated to those who are struggling alone in the dark. May this be a shining beacon for you to find your way to a better place.

With special thanks to my husband and my children for always standing by me. I could never have done this without you.
Author’s note: Welcome to my life. The following pages are a true account of my life beginning at the age of twelve. Most of the book centers on the journal entries from the countless books I have kept in my lifetime. The story is true. Names and places have been changed to protect the innocent and in some cases the guilty.
As a survivor of abuse and molestation and as an individual diagnosed with a mental illness I know we live our lives shrouded in darkness and masked in silence. Stand up. Speak loud. Be proud of who you are. Let those in the world know we are not broken. We are strong. Remember, when life seems at its worst that things change quickly and tomorrow may be the day you have been dreaming of. At the very least it will be a different day.
Remember there are those who love you even though they forget to say it sometimes.
-Belle
Part I
Lost Hope
Everything I had hoped for,
Everything I had prayed for,
All I had worked for,
Finally Achieved
—taken too quickly
---lost forever
The Beginning-and Ending-of a Dream

In an ideal world the grass is green, the sun is always shining, and everyone is safe. Life is beautiful, there is no suffering, and there is no pain. In real life, things are not what they seem and never what we would prefer.
SILENCE…As survivors of abuse, neglect, molestation, and mental illness we are told to keep quiet. As survivors we need to raise our voices and let the world know our story. This is my long journey. It is not a fairy tale. There is no happily ever after. It is a slow descent into madness from which I feel I will never escape. The horror began for me at age twelve. I will start my story when the darkness finally enveloped me, twenty-three years ago at the age of twenty-four…
1994
April 2, 1994
Even though we never met you
We love you
We only knew the joy you gave us for a short time
We miss you
We will never have the chance to hold you
Or to tell you how much you mean to us
But in our hearts and in our minds
You will always be our miracle baby
We will never forget you and
We will hold you near our hearts forever.

Baby Smith
Died April 1, 1994
7 weeks old

Sadly missed forever,
Love,
Mom and Dad
I had not been out of school very long. We had moved an hour away from family for my first real job. After trying to conceive a child for over a year we decided to begin the search for help. For a year and a half we went through invasive and expensive infertility treatments. We decided to go through an exploratory surgery to see if there were any problems internally. Unbeknownst to us we were seven weeks pregnant. No pregnancy test was performed prior to surgery, which resulted in a life-threatening infection for me and the loss of our first child. In the next pages you will see a glimpse of one of the more traumatic moments in my life…

April 10, 1994

Today is only my third day home from the hospital. Our baby died only ten days ago. We scheduled a laparoscopy on March 30 th to find out why a year’s worth of infertility treatments hadn’t worked. During surgery they discovered I was seven weeks pregnant. As near as we can tell the baby was conceived on February 9 th , very near Valentine’s Day. The baby would have been born close to November 9 th . We were very excited about having a baby for Christmas this year. Dan already had plans to buy the baby’s first train to put around the Christmas tree.
We developed an infection (from the catheter used for the dye studies, which were not completed) that resulted in the loss of the baby’s life within thirty-six hours of surgery. I’ll never forget how excited we were when we found out we were pregnant. Early on Thursday (about 10 a.m.) I started chilling and the doctor prescribed an antibiotic. The baby died about 9:30 Thursday night. After a night of severe cramping and bleeding we went to the emergency room. Friday morning at 9:45 we had a suction curtilage to remove the baby and the infected material. I went home on Friday. Saturday I was doing better. By Sunday (Easter) I was very sick and mentally devastated. Monday morning (April 4 th ) I was admitted to the hospital for fluids and IV antibiotics. The strain of bacteria I contracted from the contaminated catheter only responded to IV medication. I spent Monday through Friday in the hospital.
Now that I have improved physically, there are a million emotions to deal with. That is part of the reason I started this journal. I have reached the point in my life where I can’t find a reason to continue living. I went through this on Sunday (Easter) and I was so sick I gave up mentally and physically. IV antibiotics and forced fluids helped me physically (even if I didn’t want to be helped).
I only knew I was pregnant for two days. I don’t know how but I was very attached to our baby. Maybe it’s because I knew I carried the baby for seven weeks. I feel very responsible for the death of the baby. The baby counted on me for its life and its protection. I let her down. I let them put me under and because of that my baby is dead. I guess in my mind I know that if God had chosen to let the baby live He would have no matter what I did. I pray a lot to try and understand why God let her die. I feel in my heart God was sparing me from losing the baby later or watching her die. I don’t understand His purpose in giving me a precious child and then taking her away. I guess I’ll never understand why.
Many people blamed the doctor and the hospital for the baby’s death. I don’t understand why they didn’t run a pregnancy test before they did the surgery. I have to remind myself that not having the surgery wouldn’t have saved her; no matter what I do now or how I feel, nothing is going to bring her back. I will spend the rest of my life missing the baby I never had the chance to know. Although no baby could ever replace our first child, I pray every day God will send me another child to love and cherish. Maybe one day I will be a real mother.

April 11, 1994

My Child,

We were only blessed with your presence for seven weeks. I only knew I was carrying you for the last two days of your life. There are so many things I never had the chance to tell you. The first thing I want to tell you is that I Love You. I don’t think I ever had the chance to tell you that. But I hope you know that I love you and I will for the rest of my life. The next thing I want you to know is that I’m sorry. I’m sorry I didn’t protect you from the surgery that resulted in the loss of your life. I’m sorry I didn’t know I was carrying you. I don’t know how I could have lived those seven weeks and I did not know it. I guess what I want to say is that I miss you. I miss you very much and I will forever.
-Love,
Mom

April 11, 1994

Baby,

I just got off the phone with the doctor who discovered you and removed your little body after you died. He asked how I was doing. I am very sad. I still blame myself for your death. The doctor asked why I was harder on myself than God was. He said God didn’t blame me; why should I have higher standards than God. I guess I hadn’t thought about it like that. I asked the doctor if I could see some pictures of a seven-week-old baby. I often wonder what you looked like. I asked him if he could tell if you were still alive on Friday morning. He said you had already died and that your body was unrecognizable. I am still very sad about losing you. I will never understand why you had to go. I wish I had known I was carrying you before the surgery. I know you tried to tell me. God doesn’t blame me and I’m trying hard not to blame myself. Please do not blame me. Please don’t hate me. Always remember I love you . I miss you.
-Love,
Mom

Heartbreaking letters at a time I believed I had achieved my dream, even if for a very short time, and it had been ripped from my grasp. I had suffered nothing but pain in my life. I only ask one thing, to be a mother, to love and care for a child, to show everyone I am not a failure and deserve to be loved.

April 16, 1994

It is midnight. I have been alone most of the day. I am extremely depressed today. Too many things on my mind. I have been considering seeking counseling to get through some of the issues that have come up. It seems whenever something goes wrong, more this time than ever before, the things I attempted to ignore, tried to forget, have a way of coming back to haunt mr. I remember the relationships in the past. I remember the violence, the abuse, the lies, the broken promises, the rejection, and the pain. I remember wanting to take my own life and I remember trying. I remember physical abuse and sexual abuse. Mostly I remember feeling very alone. I cannot help me, and if the co