The Dreamer’s Story

Dear friends,

I was born and raised in the highlands of Vietnam in a farming family. As a member of the 9x generation (people born in Vietnam in the 1990s), children like me grew up playing and studying by ourselves, while our parents were busy working in the fields. I have a habit of not sharing my feelings or thoughts with my family; it’s as if I put those thoughts in an inner box and locked them away.

The older I got, the more mindful I became when I couldn’t recall many childhood memories, and there appeared to be a large gap that made me wonder about myself. When I participated in a social activity in university, I was able to name the experience that happened to me in middle school for the first time: I was sexually abused by my teacher. As a 12-year-old child, I had fallen into confusion and mixed emotions of anger and fear. Afraid of the prejudices of society and the judging glances of others, I decided to remain silent about the situation. I used to choose to ignore my emotions and go about my daily life “as normal”. I did not tell anyone as I believed they would not be able to do anything else, and I did not want my family to be upset.

The damage had not yet healed, and the bigger shock came when I was abused again, suffering in agony. This was done by the person I used to trust the most then, the first one I shared my story with back in middle school, the person I used to treat as my foster father, my former head of the department.

Repressed pain and shattered trust overwhelmed me. I wanted to take care of my injured inner child, but back then, I didn’t know whom or what to believe anymore. There were times when I wanted to give up. It was like I had a mask on for the world, but inside I was filled with hurt, disappointment, and scepticism—things that dragged me deeper into depression.

When my friend introduced me to Hagar Vietnam, I called the organisation’s hotline. Making that call was a push for myself, a step towards moving out of the shadows of the past. My journey with Hagar was a time when I chose to pause and give myself a year of “rest,” to learn how to take care of myself.

Through counselling sessions with Hagar’s counsellors, I learned to voice my inner thoughts aloud. I learned to express my anger and give myself permission to be heard. If it became challenging, I allowed myself to rest or acquired coping strategies to alleviate stress. During times of emotional difficulty or health issues, I found solace in being heard and receiving encouragement.

Participating in sessions focused on stepping out of my “comfort zone” provided me with valuable insights on navigating tough situations. I also established secure boundaries by confidently saying “no” to anything that made me feel emotionally or physically unsafe. Additionally, I collaborated with my Case Management Officer to prepare for the transition to a new location, working together to compile notes and necessary arrangements.

I am also grateful for the things I have learned to accompany me on the journey. Engaging in personal training activities like jogging, breathing exercises, reading books, practicing handwriting, drawing, listening to music, watching films, journaling, and reconnecting with nature has assisted me in finding my sense of peace. Above all, I am diligently working on practicing honesty with myself. Through my dedicated efforts, I am demonstrating to myself that I can “live a better life” and navigate through the shadows of my past. My aspiration is to convey a message to those who have experienced trauma: “We can live well and are deserving of love.”

Looking ahead to my future, I am determined to study Clinical Social Work. My goal is to provide the same faithful listening that I once needed, to those who are in need. I am currently enhancing my English skills and have intentions to apply for a scholarship to study abroad. Hopefully, in the near future, I will be a social activist in the field of mental health care, contributing with open arms to support others and help others move forward together.

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