Life was to me really good with a Mom and a Dad and a brother. Dinners and shopping and hanging out with friends, fishing and all of the well, super close and committed family things, more so than I think most. That is why it hit me so hard I think when my parents split up.
No one said anything either, like I said, one day I woke up and everything was different. I know that is why I like things to be routine and in its place. I have gotten better, sort of. I remember years of my sons moving things out of their place just to get a reaction.
Speaking of reactions, I could go from calm to batshit crazy for a few and back to calm like nothing ever happened and never speak of it again. Which is way better than no reaction until it is too late to have a normal human reaction.
The crazy part is, I never even knew that I was angry until Ms. Lydia and I stopped working together and she told me she was intimidated by my anger until she talked to me. How long can you stuff emotions down before they turn inside out? I am beginning to wonder if it is because I never grieved over the loss of my family unit. After my Gram died, I couldn't cry for the longest time and I learned about grief and what happens when you don't do it.
I can't really blame myself, I was only a wee girl of 4, 5, or 6, whenever it was. Still, I think I did take on blame and accepted it. I tried to learn what I didn't know. It is difficult to self diagnose when you are a child. I read so many child psychology books and stories about such extreme cases of abuse, not that I was, but books and research take you places.
I could never understand how people could just mistreat children so severely. Many knowing and with intent and others not having a clue. I know that what led me to counseling after my Gram died and my marriage of a few short weeks, months? who can recall, they occurred simultaneously, because what was life if it wasn't beating me upside the head, was the way I was talking to my own young children. It was awful and automatic.
I swore to myself when I was little and roaming around my neighborhood with my best friend, that I would be a different parent than my parents were, so when my own behaviour and language was bordering on abusive I sought help. I was able to regain my positive parenting once again.
Grief, it is a major bummer when not addressed. Thankfully, this wonderful lady got me back on my path and helped me to mourn my grandmother and my husband. One a much greater loss, but both were a loss, one was ripe with betrayal, so there is that because in my life it doesn't just rain when it rains, it pours with major wind and damage!
So, just recalling the first 5 years have been far from relieving my mind, or my spirit. It has taken what seems like a million years to be able to write as much as I have in relation to Beginning part 1 and part 2. Those years were relative lifetimes ago but remembering returns me to the time and the place of the crime, so to speak.
It would also be fair to say that the mixed emotions raised from a family reunion and some bad news regarding another family member on top of that and my high pain levels have been a bit of a challenge only adding to my sense of upheaval.
If I could take one silver lining it would be the previous two pages and the one that I wrote half of that I put aside. That one gets me all the way to 8 years old. A major feat it is to remember my timeline in a straight line with no holes. It has been a long time coming. I walled all of this up, good bad and in between.
Remembering is not all it is cracked up to be and it may seem stupid. Lately though, it seems important to me, for me and also so that someday instead of thinking, damn, "Mom was fucked up" my kids might understand a little bit of why Mom was fucked up.
On that note, I am off. Dad is turning 72 tomorrow and I have a bunch to do to celebrate his life. Isn't life ironic!
No one said anything either, like I said, one day I woke up and everything was different. I know that is why I like things to be routine and in its place. I have gotten better, sort of. I remember years of my sons moving things out of their place just to get a reaction.
Speaking of reactions, I could go from calm to batshit crazy for a few and back to calm like nothing ever happened and never speak of it again. Which is way better than no reaction until it is too late to have a normal human reaction.
The crazy part is, I never even knew that I was angry until Ms. Lydia and I stopped working together and she told me she was intimidated by my anger until she talked to me. How long can you stuff emotions down before they turn inside out? I am beginning to wonder if it is because I never grieved over the loss of my family unit. After my Gram died, I couldn't cry for the longest time and I learned about grief and what happens when you don't do it.
I can't really blame myself, I was only a wee girl of 4, 5, or 6, whenever it was. Still, I think I did take on blame and accepted it. I tried to learn what I didn't know. It is difficult to self diagnose when you are a child. I read so many child psychology books and stories about such extreme cases of abuse, not that I was, but books and research take you places.
I could never understand how people could just mistreat children so severely. Many knowing and with intent and others not having a clue. I know that what led me to counseling after my Gram died and my marriage of a few short weeks, months? who can recall, they occurred simultaneously, because what was life if it wasn't beating me upside the head, was the way I was talking to my own young children. It was awful and automatic.
I swore to myself when I was little and roaming around my neighborhood with my best friend, that I would be a different parent than my parents were, so when my own behaviour and language was bordering on abusive I sought help. I was able to regain my positive parenting once again.
Grief, it is a major bummer when not addressed. Thankfully, this wonderful lady got me back on my path and helped me to mourn my grandmother and my husband. One a much greater loss, but both were a loss, one was ripe with betrayal, so there is that because in my life it doesn't just rain when it rains, it pours with major wind and damage!
So, just recalling the first 5 years have been far from relieving my mind, or my spirit. It has taken what seems like a million years to be able to write as much as I have in relation to Beginning part 1 and part 2. Those years were relative lifetimes ago but remembering returns me to the time and the place of the crime, so to speak.
It would also be fair to say that the mixed emotions raised from a family reunion and some bad news regarding another family member on top of that and my high pain levels have been a bit of a challenge only adding to my sense of upheaval.
If I could take one silver lining it would be the previous two pages and the one that I wrote half of that I put aside. That one gets me all the way to 8 years old. A major feat it is to remember my timeline in a straight line with no holes. It has been a long time coming. I walled all of this up, good bad and in between.
Remembering is not all it is cracked up to be and it may seem stupid. Lately though, it seems important to me, for me and also so that someday instead of thinking, damn, "Mom was fucked up" my kids might understand a little bit of why Mom was fucked up.
On that note, I am off. Dad is turning 72 tomorrow and I have a bunch to do to celebrate his life. Isn't life ironic!
I am so glad you are no longer hiding your light under a rock. Keep up, keeping up. Love You
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