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    I Love Who I Am: Igniting Self-Worth
    I Love Who I Am: Igniting Self-Worth
    I Love Who I Am: Igniting Self-Worth
    Ebook143 pages2 hours

    I Love Who I Am: Igniting Self-Worth

    By Storm Hideaway

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    About this ebook

    Growing up in Australia with non-English-speaking, hardworking parents, Storm struggled to find her place in the world.

    From a very young age, Storms inner world was plagued by a low sense of self-worth and acceptance.

    Marrying young and welcoming beautiful children was meant to heal her pain, yet this ultimately led to the most heart-wrenching and devastating time of Storms life.

    This is a personal story of Storms struggles with emotional abuse that led to depression, her search for peace, and her enduring hope for the future.
    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherBalboa Press AU
    Release dateJun 15, 2017
    ISBN9781504308502
    I Love Who I Am: Igniting Self-Worth

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      Book preview

      I Love Who I Am - Storm Hideaway

      PART 1

      CHAPTER 1

      Negativity attracts

      Have you ever felt life is a series of events that seem to attract similar things, whether they be negative or positive? Well, that was my experience. I thought I was on the right path, but what I found was certainly a dark, negative pattern forming. The problem was I never really noticed it was happening.

      I was born in Sydney, Australia, in an inner city suburb to a migrant, working class family that spoke broken English with an insistence on speaking Spanish at home.

      Looking back, from the moment I was old enough to remember, I compared myself incessantly to everyone else around me. I found it difficult to understand why I couldn’t value myself.

      I told myself I was not as good as anyone else. Everyone was better than me (and I mean EVERYONE including family, friends and strangers) at something than I was. Call it superficial but this is how I spent many of my years.

      I still do this sometimes even today. When I start to doubt myself, I question my importance and self-worth and I have to consciously remind myself that I am worthy, that I am valued. Through my journey, I have come to realise that I am not the only one. SO many women today, devalue themselves and do not consider themselves worthy of affection, love, attention or even credit for accomplishments. This needs to change.

      I considered myself to be below average, not smart, not overly attractive. I was just a kid, but I just did not fit in. To be honest, I felt worthless from a very young age.

      My inner critic was dark and damaging from the beginning.

      CHAPTER 2

      My early years

      Like most children, school plays a big role during our foundation years. I would go to school, come home and have dinner. I spent most of those years trying to get good grades. There was always the expectation to do better in school.

      I remember my first day at school, walking into the school yard with my heart racing. I said goodbye to my Mum and as she walked away, I felt so alone, so abandoned. I tried to stay hidden from attention and not be noticed.

      I remember I would slouch in my seat so I wouldn’t get picked to take the lunch basket to the canteen. Most kids would put up their hand and yell out, ‘Pick me!’.

      Why was I so different?

      I would dread the days I had ESL study (English as a second language). In the late 1970s, students were separated into a special class for what they called Extra English Support.

      I remember it so clearly as if it was yesterday. I would lose concentration easily and find myself looking out the window drifting into my dream place, watching the birds go by when SLAP, I would feel the abrupt hand of a teacher across my face. I was so surprised, but more than anything, ashamed.

      I was ashamed for being punished, but also for not understanding what we were doing and for not paying attention. The shame was so great I could feel it in my stomach and my throat, but I still tried to swallow the tears and not let people see me cry. Crying made you look weak and was just another thing kids would make fun of.

      I felt so alone in school. I sensed all the kids talked about me behind my back and nobody liked me. I felt like nobody understood me.

      When I was ten, my parents decided to move overseas to what was then their homeland. This was my cultural home and I looked forward to being surrounded by family and people who were similar to me from a cultural perspective. This was a massive change to enter a Spanish–speaking environment after living in an English–speaking one.

      The next three years came and went so quickly.

      While I started getting top grades at school, there was still a lingering sense of, I am not good enough. Even though I spoke the language, I was still an outsider because I had been raised in Australia. I never felt like I belonged anywhere. I was destined to always being an outsider; to be alone?

      I would strive to get better results. I needed to make more friends. I had to please my family more. It just never seemed enough!

      This all went on in silence inside me. Some call it ego or fear. It was an inner battle in my mind, a little voice in my head telling me something negative whenever I was about to take a positive action or change.

      ‘Stop, Storm don’t do it as it won’t work out’, or ‘Storm, you weren’t that good at this last time.’

      CHAPTER 3

      A distance with my mother

      Early memories of my Mum were shadowed by her absence.

      I don’t remember seeing her often as she used to go out and take care of the family business.

      When my brother and I were younger overseas, we lived with my grandmother and had a housekeeper that was more like a family member with us even when we couldn’t pay her anymore. There wasn’t a lot of money. My Dad was still working in Australia, after we returned overseas for a few extra months to save extra money to bring back overseas for the business. He eventually arrived overseas, which offered us a little more stability for a while.

      There were key moments when Mum would stay up at night smoking and worrying where the money was going to come from to buy food and pay the bills. A lit cigarette was all I could see in the dark, smoky room, while she sat and fretted.

      The saddest Christmas I had was in 1981. Dad had returned to Australia to prepare for our move back to Australia. We had no money for presents. As a conscientious child, I had worked hard to do well at school to achieve good grades. Yet Santa Claus didn’t come with the same generosity this particular year. I couldn’t understand. I thought, ‘What! Why don’t I deserve the doll I had asked for when I have worked so hard for this? Why do I get a puzzle this year when I got a bike last year?’

      Inevitably, I questioned my self-worth and dared not to bother my Mum or my grandmother. Dad was too far away to ask.

      I did really feel for my Mum. I watched her leave so early in the morning to deal with the business and come back so late, exhausted. There were so many times that I felt that my mum had to work so hard in a declining business and money was so scarce that as a result I did not want to burden her with my feelings or ask for anything for myself.

      That’s why I bottled my emotions and pretended everything was okay and got on with life. But the pain was real. I recall one time when I wanted a small toy so badly, that I ended up stealing the same toy from a friend at school and never owned up to taking it. Inside of me I knew it was wrong and it made me feel so upset that I would do this to my friend but it was the only way I could have what I wanted without burdening my parents.

      I remember one winter living overseas was particularly tough. I was always tense and had caught a cold. Not thinking much of it, I was surprised when my nose began to bleed out of control. Towels and towels became soaked with my blood. My grandmother ran to the nearest neighbour for help as there was no phone at the house.

      Mum was out running the business as usual.

      In what felt like an eternity, I screamed out to my grandmother from the front door, feeling incredibly afraid. When my grandmother finally returned, she placed a cold compress on my forehead, telling me the ambulance would be there soon.

      I had lost so much blood I had no energy to even walk down the balcony and out to the ambulance. The housekeeper carried me out of the house in

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