Behind the Smile: The Story I Never Told

I had a good childhood. My parents married and immigrated to London in the seventies to build a better life. We weren’t wealthy, but they worked hard to give us a comfortable, stable home. Education was important to them, so they made sacrifices to send us to private school. Weekends were spent with family and friends, and I have many happy memories from those years.

I wasn’t especially focused on academics, but I did well enough. I wasn’t a straight-A student and lived mostly in my head, daydreaming and listening to music, imagining the wonderful future that lay ahead. On the surface, I was a happy child with no obvious problems. I followed the rules, didn’t rebel, and never caused any trouble. I was a “good daughter” and I did well enough to get into university. That’s when everything started to unravel.

The Breaking Point I Didn’t See Coming

University felt like stepping off a ledge. I was suddenly unmoored… disconnected… lost. Some days, I skipped class and stayed in bed for sixteen hours feeling lethargic. The sadness came in waves and I cried often, sometimes for no clear reason. I felt hopeless. I felt like I was hopeless—like I didn’t matter, like I was somehow less than everyone else. There were moments when I just didn’t want to be here anymore.

What went wrong?

The Hidden Trauma That Shaped My Life

I was sexually abused from the age of four to fourteen. No one knew. I never told anyone—not my parents, not my friends. I kept it all hidden.

Looking back, I think the structure of school and the love of my family gave me something to hold onto. It helped me keep going, helped me stay afloat. So I smiled. I acted like any other young girl. I didn’t understand how to process what had happened, so I buried it. deep inside.

But when I left home, the feelings I had pushed down for so long began to rise, and they didn’t just shape how I saw the world but they distorted how I viewed myself. In my mind, I was worthless. I was inferior. I was bad. I carried shame and guilt that seeped into every part of my life, every relationship, every opportunity I couldn’t take. There was always a part of me that wanted to dream, to explore, to grow into the woman I imagined I could be, but there was also a broken part whispering, You’re not good enough. You’ll never make it.

For most of my life, that’s the cycle I lived in—caught between the dreamer and the wounded child.

Building a New Life in Canada

Eventually, I left London and married, building a new life in Canada and raising two sons. On the outside, everything looked fine—family, decent job, and a steady routine, but inside, the past continued to haunt me. Bouts of depression hit me, and I felt so alone and disengaged. There were times I didn’t want to be alive and days when life felt utterly meaningless, yet a small, stubborn part of me knew there had to be more. I longed for a life that felt purposeful.

I turned to self-help books, hoping to find the answers, but nothing seemed to stick. I envisioned the life I wanted and it didn’t look anything like what I had. I was sick of my job, unhappy in my marriage, restless in my own skin and no amount of reading, retail therapy, or cake could fill the void inside. I felt empty, and I didn’t understand why.

Then I met someone who shared their secret of childhood sexual abuse. It was the first time I encountered another survivor who felt as I did, and for the first time, I felt a flicker of relief, almost as if a bit of the weight had lifted. Although I knew, in theory, that the abuse had shaped me, I didn’t comprehend the full extent of its hold on my life. I believed I was simply unconfident, scared, and incapable—like that was just who I was, unchangeable.

But at 46 years old, I finally sought therapy and everything changed. In the past four years, my life has transformed dramatically and instead of just floating along, I took charge. I began to release the old patterns and stories that had constrained me. I started to believe that I could heal and most importantly, that I deserved to.

Crafting a Meaningful Future

I’m happier now, but I’m still searching for meaning.

There comes a point when we ask ourselves, “What was I made for?” I do know that I want to help others who have experienced childhood sexual abuse and are still carrying its weight as adults.

My dream is to become a psychotherapist. I hope to pursue a Master’s in Counselling so I can guide other women toward finding their wings and flying, but for now, I’m focused on providing a community where we can exist and know we’re not alone. That’s why I created Whispers to Wings.

I want to spread the message that if you’ve suffered abuse, there are steps you can take to lift that heavy load. The first step is acknowledging what happened and giving yourself the respect and empathy you deserve.

Early in therapy, my counsellor said three simple words: “You are lovable.” Those words caught me completely off guard. One moment I was composed; the next, my face crumpled, and I heard a cry of pain emerge from deep inside me. It was then that I realized how deeply the abused child within me had been buried. By pretending I was fine year after year, while I was really just going through the motions, I had done myself a grave disservice. That was the void I needed to fill, and I knew I had to work hard to heal the child inside.

What’s your story? Are you ready to share? Visit our community forum at The Chrysalis.