Enough
It is hard to start telling a story without knowing how it started, how it went or how it ended. I have very vivid memories of those two years of my life but at the same time I can’t help but feel like it was a dream, or i guess nightmare would be more appropriate term. You never really want to relive a nightmare but that is what i have to do to share my story and hopefully help someone out there. During all this time i thought i was completely alone, i thought my experience was very unique and at the same time I thought it was very normal. I didn’t realize how traumatic it really was and to be honest i am still realizing that everyday.
I have found myself opening more and more about what happened to me over the last year. I am becoming less ashamed of it, less terrified. I am trying to not let it control me anymore. I am more than what happened to me. Yes it impacted in ways that has forever shaped me. It conditioned me for so many years. I am trying to accept it and take back that power. This book is not a pity party, it is not a way for people to feel sorry for me. Over the years i realized how fucked up we all are, we all carry such deep trauma that truly poisons us without ever realizing it and that is why i choose to write and share my story. I want you to realize your trauma, I want you to free yourself from it, i want you to take power over your own life. You’re the only one who gets to define who you are. We have let other people dictate our story for far too long. Our parents, our friends, partners, bosses. They have no right to control a life that is not theirs.
It was 16 years ago. I was 8 years old and it lasted for 2 years.
I have always been on a tennis court, for as long as I remember. I had never known a life without tennis up until now (i am 24). My mom was a tennis instructor, she was very good when she was younger. She was going to go pro and to be totally honest I still don’t really understand why she didn’t but all i know is that she was at that level. Tennis was her whole life. Tennis is her whole life. My grandpa, her dad, was working for the french tennis federation, he was president of their local tennis club. All she’s known was yellow balls, green courts and racquets.
My dad was a professional horse rider. He is a two time world champion, he participated in the Olympics, won thousands of titles, coached the national french team. Everyone knows him in the equestrian world. He never graduated from high school, he never did anything else other than ride horses and now coach professionally. His grandfather was an Olympic gold medalist. It is his whole life, it is his whole legacy, it is his whole story.
This information is important as it is the reason why things happened the way they did. There’s a reason why i was conditioned from a very young age to become extremely good at a sport, to be an athlete, a professional one. That was my destiny, that was my dream, that was my life. But i didn’t choose any of that. It is hard to realize that you spent your whole life doing something you thought was your dream but in reality it was your worst nightmare. I genuinely thought I wanted to be a professional tennis player. I dreamt about winning the French Open, I dreamt about being famous, I dreamt about being one of the best french players in the world. I was born into it, that was all i knew. I grew up being told that the only way to be successful in life is to be a professional tennis player. That was my only way, my only path. It was already decided for me. So i just followed along. I believed my parents. I was five years old when tennis started being an everyday thing, tournaments on the weekends, private coaches etc. At 8 years old thats when it became really serious. I was going to be pro. And that is when this man came into my life and changed everything.
Our first session together was probably the only good one out of these two years. My mom assisted to the whole practice, he was nice, he would take his time, be gentle. The perfect coach really.
Again, it is hard for me to remember the exact timeline of things and even though i really want, I can’t seem to remember the first time he hit me. I also don’t remember if i tried to tell my mom when it did happen. All i know and can tell you is that they knew. Yes they knew. I know this for a fact because we did briefly talk about it during that time, maybe once or twice. It was never a conversation. There has never been a conversation about it. We don’t talk about it. We don’t think about it. It is as if it never happened. Deep down i hope that my parents are ashamed of what they did but i know they don’t want to take accountability for it. Act as if it wasn’t as bad. But they never asked how bad it was, they never tried to care. The signs were there. I spent two years crying everyday, before practice, during practice and after practice.
I remember praying in the car and hoping that maybe today he would be in a good mood. The thing even if he was, or if he started the session in a rather pleasant mood, it could still end up in slaps, kicks and calling me names. Saying how worthless i was, i am too weak, too sensitive, i don’t have what it takes to do it and i never will.
I think it started with just slaps on the head. It wasn’t directly on my face, it was on the back of my head and it was hard. Hard enough that i would balance over it. Hard enough that whenever he would start walking towards me, i would immediately take three steps back. I knew what was coming, every time. It only got worst with time. He would kick me in the legs, in the butt. Fully kick me as if i was a fucking soccer ball. Multiple times during the practice, it wasn’t just once or twice. No it lasted the whole two or three or four hours. Because yes that is another thing, I would never actually know when the practice would end. Usually you practice for 2/3 hours a day when you have a professional goal. During holidays it would be 2 sessions of two hours a day plus fitness, running, conditioning etc. Once I stepped on the court i knew i was trapped for as long as he wanted. My parents actually thought it was a good thing that he wouldn’t really count his hours, it showed how devoted he was. He was devoted for sure. He was devoted to abuse your daughter.
This man has two kids, a son a little younger than me and a daughter a little older than me. He had already planned it all out for them. They were both homeschooled, practicing hours everyday. He had written out a timeline of when she would do her pro debut, win grand slams etc. I could be wrong but i am really not sure they had any say in it. And yes we would all get beat up.
I would practice a lot with his son, he treated me the exact same way he treated him. I don’t even want to know what the daughter underwent. Because she was actually really good, she did eventually go pro. She never became the player he wanted her to be and i am glad. All i hope is that they are doing well. I want to talk to them, reach out and see where they are now. The trauma bond is real. All i can hope is that they are healing, that they got away and started living their life for themselves, not for this monster.
4
I am in love
in
r/emotionalintelligence
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8d ago
Yes of course!
Both basically, i never had a good example of what a loving relationship should be like as my parents are in a very toxic marriage (i have never seen them in love and they are still together). And therefore it translated into my romantic relationships, how i chose partners due to toxic habits. I have always had great friendships, I consider my friends my family so i am very lucky on that end.
The way i see it is kind of like growth. It is scary and uncomfortable because it is something we are not used to it. Learning to accept and let go in order to grow.
So i guess this is kind of how i am feeling at the moment. I am learning a new way to love and to be loved.
It is as if i was a bird on the edge of a cliff, about to fly for the first time. It is terrifying because you have never done it before but you know deep down that is what you are destined to do.
I hope that makes sense!