Financial Abuse And The Vale Surrounding it.

Financial abuse, its something that not a lot of people recognize as abuse as it doesn’t physically, emotionally, or sexually harm you in any way, though it can if it gets that deep.

Some, who practice financial abuse are just in a bad place themselves, but it gives them absolutely no right what so ever to abuse you in any way.
For me, it was something that snuck in, slithered through the cracks in my families happy facade, turning happy laughs into stern silences.
To start with, my family was never really one of those picture perfect families, the mom who is her daughters best friend, the grandma who bakes and the grandpa who’s always into something outdoorsy. That doesn’t mean I didn’t love them, or that they were/are bad people, (my grandma is the creme de la creme of grandparents.)

Anyway, sorry about that, I often go off on tangents like that, and this blog will have many more of them before everything is said and done.

Even though my family wasn’t what I would have picked, I’m glad I was raised the way I was, knowing how to be independent and not being sheltered at all, but that came with a cost I didn’t want to, and shouldn’t have had to pay.

As I got older, I began to notice the way money was dealt with, never being talked about or even considered as an option for conversation.
This created a sense of fear and guilt whenever I needed something. I learned to say no to my own needs, convincing myself that I was fine without anything extra.

Over time, these lessons sunk deep into my mind. I started to believe that love was tied to financial dependence, and the thought of asking for help felt shameful. It was a confusing time where I felt like I was living two lives—one where everything seemed okay and another where I struggled.

This, is one reason why I have a lot of difficulty asking for help in my life now, and I’m 26 years old, in a separate state than my family, and a perfectly functioning adult.

This cycle continued, and it took a while to realize that part of my life was far, far from normal. I never really came to terms with it, as I wanted to hide how I felt, wear a mask and fake happy, but I realized I couldn’t do that when someone told me that I was very bad at hiding my facial expressions.

The Teen Years

When I was about 15, everything changed.

We moved in with my grandma, who I was, and am super close with, so she was happy to have me living with her, but I noticed having four women and a young girl in the house was ultra stressful.
Since there were so many people in a small home with only three bedrooms, I was often regulated to blow-up mattresses, couches, or floors that now have given me a bad back, chronic pain, and fatigue because of it, but at that time, I was attending a blind school, so I wasn’t there for five days out of the week.

Another tangent:

I regret attending that blind school, but I am also glad it gave me a chance to get away from my environment.

My grandma was always one to raise her voice and yell rather than talk things out,
and so is my mom, so they fought often, and so did her and my great grandmother, (my grandma’s mom.)

For me, this was a real point of stress in my life, so I then built up walls, put more into my facade, and made sure I looked as happy as ever, but it wasn’t working.

Closing points.

I am growing anxious and sad writing this, so for my well-being, I’m going to put a cap on it here, but just know this. If you are experiencing financial abuse, there is a way out.
If you need resources, to talk to anyone, or anything else, please get in touch with me here

XOXO.
Lauren