When I was 14, I remember standing in the bathroom washing my face and arguing with my mother. I do not remember what I said, probably something nasty. I used to be very straightforward and say things as they were, without filters. Something must have triggered her, and she started to hit me with something I do not remember. What I do remember is that my body and mind shut down. It was not that I was overwhelmed physically; it was as if my mind stepped away. I got numb emotionally. I did not feel pain at all. Everything slowed down for a moment. I saw myself in the mirror, and I remember saying,

“You can hit me to death. I will not cry anymore.”

After that, she never raised a hand to me again.

I felt like something died in me. I believed everything could be explained with words. I did not understand physical abuse. What hurt me most was that my mother could not hear or understand me. I felt unheard and lonely.

I always felt lonely. My dad passed away when I was a child, so I did not even get to see him. From a young age, I had the sense that there was no one on my side, a feeling of standing alone inside the family.

I remember my stepdad, of course. He deserves a Nobel Prize for being the most non-traumatizing, saintly stepdad (joking). But still, I am grateful for the childhood I had.

This was my first conscious experience of an inner death—the death of safety and trust.

This is known as a nervous system shutdown. When a child cannot escape danger, the body protects itself by numbing emotion and entering a freeze response. This is a survival adaptation (Schauer & Elbert, 2015).

This is also an identity breakdown: the moment the child self learns,

“Who I am is not safe here.”

Many adults carry this moment without knowing it. It shows up later as over-functioning, emotional distance, or the feeling that closeness costs too much.

Now you are an adult, having your own kids, and you........

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