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I write a lot about my life, my family, and my upbringing. A lot of it wasn’t pretty. There was abuse, anger, mental health issues, financial ruin, and rock bottom. You name it, I’ve seen it and survived it.

I like to share the stories about my abusive childhood with you for two reasons. First of all, it’s very therapeutic for me. I feel freer each time I write about whatever I went through.

Secondly, it helps you heal, too.

I like to end my stories on a positive note so you can see that healing is possible and you can live a happy, peaceful life.

Most of these stories can be found on my Medium profile here.

Making the decision to write about my Abusive Childhood

I didn’t start writing about my family struggles until about 7 years ago. I really wasn’t so sure I wanted to put it all out there. I mean, you know, the family reputation thing, right?

I started talking a wee bit about my personal life over on my Facebook Lives and soon discovered that sharing my stories of struggle and healing was actually resonating with so many people.

My stories were helping others.

Then, I started opening up more and more and realized it was time to start writing about it to reach more people. I realized that people needed to hear stories similar to theirs because they need to know that they aren’t alone and a real person (like cute little me) can help them get through it.

Unfortunately, not everyone thinks this is a good idea…

…like, my family.

I’ll be honest. I was slightly afraid of confrontation (the Libra in me) and backlash from my sisters. But then I thought, surely they don’t read my stuff. Does anyone in my family ever read my stuff? I couldn’t imagine this.

But I did prepare myself in case someone spoke out.

‘These are my stories,’ I would tell them. ‘These are the things that happened to me and there are people around the world who need to hear my stories to heal.’

I knew what the response would be to that.

‘It doesn’t matter and I don’t care. It’s making our parents look horrible and no one needs to know our private family business’.

Boom. There it is.

No one needs to know the private family business.


I beg to differ. Sorry, not sorry. I don’t care how mad you are at me; I actually don’t even care if you ostracize me. The world is changed by your example, not your opinion.

Anyway, I was soon to find out that yes, in fact, someone in my family does read my stuff.

And then this happened…

Mom finally went to heaven in February of 2019. I debated on whether or not to go to her funeral. I said goodbye to her a long time ago.

But I decided to go back to Canada for her funeral…and all hell broke loose. Ok, maybe it wasn’t that dramatic.

Aunts, uncles, sisters, brothers-in-law, nephews, and cousins ostracized me. Though I was shocked and stunned to be treated like this at my own mother’s funeral, I had a sneaky feeling about why it was happening.

What shocked me even more was what I was to find out a day later.

So I wrote a blog on my other site (that I no longer own anymore) about moms who don’t deserve to be honored on Mother’s Day and spoke of my upbringing, abuse, and all. This was read by one family member, and she took it upon herself to share it with everyone in the family.

The blog was raw and real but I did end it on a positive note, so there’s that.

Not everyone caught that, OR they were so pissed with the secrets I shared they couldn’t see past the rage to get to the good stuff. According to one family member, one aunt (my mother’s sister) was so disturbed by this blog she couldn’t sleep at night.

Um………wow. She couldn’t sleep at night.

As a teenager, I would often lay in bed at night wondering if this was the night my dad was going to come downstairs and whip me for whatever messed up reason he had.

But she couldn’t sleep at night.

Many nights I would go to sleep sobbing and holding my freshly beaten body and praying to God to make it stop but she couldn’t sleep at night.

But you can’t sleep at night because I wrote about a truth. Awe. You poor thing.

And apparently, another aunt wanted to strangle me. She was so mad at my words.


You want to strangle me because you are so mad I wrote a story of truth to help others get through hard times? Good luck with that anger. Lemme know how that all works out for you.

So, keeping secrets is a good thing?

Ok, so lemme get this straight.

It’s ok to be physically abused as a teenager, but it’s not ok to share your stories to help others heal.

It’s ok to brush all the dirty, ugly truths under a rug, but it’s not ok to recover from them.

It’s ok to keep your mouth shut about what you went through, but it’s not ok to find your voice and use it to help others.

Did I get that right?

So, everyone in the world should just shut up about their pasts and never share their stories to heal and help the world heal?

So, everyone in the world should just stay angry and broken, full of secrets, hurt, and pain?

You’re kidding me, right?

What example are you setting?

You know, I pride myself on setting a good example. The world needs more people like me (the only time I may ever blow my own horn). The world needs more people who will share their stories to help others around the world heal.

The example I am setting is a healing one. What’s your example? Hide behind your dark, filthy secrets and stay angry, broken, and shattered?

Does keeping secrets in the closet actually help anyone? Can you imagine if everyone in the world did that? No one would heal. No one would be free. Everyone would be full of hate and anger.

The whole world would be a dark, angry, ugly place.

Is that what you want? How can you possibly think this is ok? What’s wrong with you?

More articles from this site you might like:

Keep your mouth shut

Go ahead and keep your mouth shut. Go ahead and keep your ugly secrets in the closet. Go ahead and continue to live in the broken, dark, and toxic world you live in.

Take a deep, hard look at yourself in the mirror and tell me if you’re happy with what you see staring back at you.

You can keep your mouth shut and keep your secrets to yourself.

I choose not to do that.

I choose to speak, share, and inspire people around the world to forgive and heal.

The world needs healing and forgiveness. Not secrets and lies.

I’m sorry, not sorry, my stories bothered you. The inconvenient truth has set me free. It has set me free from all of you. Your negativity, your toxicity, your hatred, and your anger.

But I forgive you, and I wish healing for all of you. May you one day find the peace your heart and soul so desperately long for.

Peace and Love

xo iva xo

Author: Iva Ursano

Title: Writer

Expertise: Anti-Aging, Mental Health

Iva is a 60-something woman, originally from Northern Ontario, Canada, who now resides in sunny Guatemala. She helps women over 50 love the skin they're in and empowers them to live their best lives ever. When she's not blogging, she's out on her scooter feeding and rescuing street dogs.  

You can also check out her amazing eStore here. It is full of powerful self-help eBooks, personal development courses, and so much more—ALL at affordable prices!

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One Comment

  1. Iva, you hit the nail on the head!
    My life from the time I can remember was one of both verbal and physical abuse from my mother. My dad knew about it but was reluctant to take any action. Fortunately I had grandparents who lived around the block so their house became my refuge during the really bad times, especially when I enrolled in a local college. Unfortunately I married the first guy who came along. He was a raging alcoholic so the abuse continued untiI I finally got smart and divorced the bastard. I believe that sharing our pasts helps others like us know that they aren’t alone. It also gives them the impetus to move on and leave the shitty life behind.
    Thank you for sharing your life experiences.
    Love, Betty

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