The first time I wished I was dead I didn’t even know what dying was.

I remember lying in about seven inches of tepid hose water among the floating blades of grass getting tangled within my curly hair. Underneath the shallow water my fingers glided over the texture of the dirt beneath the white plastic, wishing the inflatable pool walls around could protect me now. I remember feeling safe behind them for just a moment though. After what happened, how could I stand up and be seen again? Everyone would see. Grandparents’ window is just right above. “Won’t everyone see?” I asked, “No, shut up and hurry.” He demanded. My face splashed against the murky water, his wet swimming trunks were cold against my cheek. I could see the sun through the clouds as I began to think about how amazing it was to have a moment alone now. He got what he wanted and left. I watched the clouds whisk through the open sky as the sun began to set and I began to freeze in what seemed to be more of a puddle now rather than a pool. But for the first time I remember thinking as I came to face the reality that I would have to get up and go back inside with him with a smile on my face. 

I thought to myself, “I don’t think I want to be here anymore.”

Now nearly twenty years later I can tell myself I deserve to be here. I am happy to be here actually. But let me be honest, it is not just me who is here technically. That curious childlike thought of, “I don’t think I want to be here anymore” paired with an abuser’s relentless actions unlocked someone or something inside of my head at a very young age. That part of me is quite unruly at times, and in the past has encouraged me to make poor decisions that were putting my life in constant danger. Until now, I have not known a life where dissociation and suicidal ideations did not exist within the constant dialog inside of my brain. My mind and body were the only tools I had as a child to endure the abuse. The brain is so powerful and although confronting the harmful and disordered parts has been challenging this past year, I am proud of how my brain managed to take care of that little girl in the pool. 

If you can relate to any of my experiences I want you to know that you are so incredibly loved and cherished by myself and many. This level of vulnerability was not easy to reach so please be gentle. My true wish is that by reading my story someone can feel inspired to begin, continue, or revisit their own journey in healing and discovery.

Madyson Elizabeth Hughling

800.656.HOPE | rainn.org National Sexual Assault Hotline

(988) Suicide and Crisis Lifeline