I have been sitting in funerals recently Too many actually
But they have lead me to ponder What would my family’s eulogy be for me
I certainly don’t want glorification I know I am not, and have not, been perfect in any way I want truth Not some pontification of marvellousness But I also would like to hear from them Before I am gone That would be way more preferable Than regretful one-sided graveside conversations
I know I have been a parent that was the product of her parents, and the parents before them I know that a lot of my actions have been born from my early traumas I know that I was a pretty shit parent I also know I was a pretty damn good one as well I know that I can’t go back I can’t undo what has been done Conundrums of parenting 101 I can only lay my heart open And apologise for being a mother in training Muddling along Doing the best I could
In hind site it might not be the best of what I could give now But it was the best of me back then
Is this a product of ‘old age’ That we ponder our past and our failings Go down rabbit holes of the ‘what ifs’ What if I had done that differently What if I had been a better parent What if I had said that differently What if I had done more, given more, been more
But what about our successes, our joys, our positive impacts Why don’t we address them I am sure they far outweigh the ‘what ifs’
It would indeed be most intriguing To survey the ones I have raised And ask them their memories Of their mother Would they immediately give you their negatives Or Would they in their adult years Show some grace of understanding That as a parent We do the best With what we have At the time And deliver some heartwarming musings of their childhoods
I have spent many years trying to find myself I was buried hidden under such a burden of damagedness
I see my little granddaughter now running free laughing climbing singing with such wonderful gay abandon and I have vague pictorial flashes of memory of the little wild child I was before….
For years I have wondered how I managed to survive the pain and torment of lies and secrecies the destruction of family to keep going to keep living when so many others couldn’t
This morning I woke with this word Resilience
A word I’ve heard many times but gave no thought or mind to cuz it had nothing to do with me did it?
Certainly not a word that was ever given to me I’ve had others thrown my way others which have stuck and caused deep woundings Bossy Super Mum Victim Liar to name but a few
I am a confessed logophile my children will vouch for that even if they don’t understand that particular word 🙂 I needed to find answers so I went searching and in that searching I found some truths
What depletes resilience? overwork chronic stress exhaustion neglecting self care negative self-talk unhealthy coping mechanisms managing difficult people lack of social support withstanding personal criticism isolation substance abuse
Yes, that was me maybe that still is me to an extent But I have not spent the past 14 years in therapy working my arse off trying to recover trying to heal trying to live without making inroads and instead of ticking those boxes I am crossing them off the list
Instead I can now tick other boxes like these… A resilient person perseveres in the toughest times A resilient person finds strength within themself A resilient person supports others instead of bringing them down A resilient person can withstand and recover from difficult conditions A resilient person can bounce back from setbacks A resilient person can draw on their inner strength to navigate challenges A resilient person can maintain wellbeing A resilient person is aware of their emotional reactions A resilient person is comfortable in who they are
Why has it taken over 5 decades for me to get to this point? Because I was so buried in the trauma I used every ounce of of all I was just to survive It wasn’t until I got to a point of breaking of being so broken and someone recognising my brokenness for what it was and encouraged me to seek help and I did and I have persevered for years
But being resilient doesn’t mean I don’t get hurt It just means I have gained the emotional maturity to know how to express myself to the ones I can trust to the ones who have chosen to support me I know how to deal with that hurt and how to place it where it belongs the sting of it still stings and the tears are still real but I can now embrace the hurt let the tears fall and confess my feelings and move on leaving it at the feet of those it belongs to and not mine
Three years ago I chose to end some extremely traumatic years by having a tattoo placed visibly for my own reminder a reminder that this was the end
Today looking at it with fresh eyes I am understanding fully the symbolism of my choice and it fills me with hope
the Lotus flower represents strength rebirth and Resilience
and added is a line from one of my favourite poets Rumi “You’ve seen my descent, now watch my rising”Â
I didn’t understand fully 3 years ago just how much of a rising there was coming
I have spent months processing some issues that have caused ongoing major triggers for me I’ve been unsure as to why the reactions were so strong I understood part of them But it was only recently that I fully understood the depths of the why
And before I start I want to add that it is NOT mandatory for ANYONE to have ANY medical tests that they do NOT want to have! So please allow me the grace to make my own decisions re my own health
Backtracking to the beginning of this story We needed to have some blood tests done So made appointments at our local medical centre Because of the state of our medical system in NZ currently there are currently no resident doctors at our centre So we have to see the nurses. As we do not make a habit of seeing doctors it’s been a while We both are patients of a Dr in the USA so are not being irresponsible In fact we are very proactive about our health Hence staying with a Dr who works with us as we need despite the distances
During our appointment the nurse started scrolling through my records and I started getting the inquisition ‘You haven’t had a mammogram’ “No – I have thermograms and I am actually scheduled for one next week “ ‘You haven’t had a cervical smear in a long time’ “No, I don’t actually want one” Then the coercions began ‘It’s over 5 years so it’s free for you’ ‘It’s so easy now, you just do it yourself’ ‘Here you go, go do it now while I sort your husband’s blood tests’ I felt cornered, to an extent bullied… I acquiesced and went I came away feeling incredibly angry with myself for not fighting for myself
A week later We were away from home I get a call from her Telling me that HrHPV had been detected And I needed to come in for a ‘proper cervical smear’ She insisted I make an appointment for when we returned home So from then I was riding the Rollercoaster of Fear! I couldn’t talk to anyone Until my therapist processed things with me My choices were – do nothing – go have it done – ask for another nurse as I had felt so bullied by the first one I was already riding the rollercoaster so doing nothing was a hard option I was triggered, distressed, angry
After a few days I called the clinic and asked to see a different nurse one of my choice All good!
So a week later we were home and I dutifully went I was absolutely stunned when the first nurse came to get me I was not happy I felt trapped again I managed to reiterate that I had not wanted the smear in the first place That I had asked for another nurse So she went to find her and I was able to switch rooms right away This nurse I feel more comfortable with I finally agreed to have the smear done It was BLOODY awful SO painful In so many ways By the time it was over I was a sobbing mess
To inflict this on a woman is bad enough But on a woman who endured years of sexual assault and rape This is invasive and soul destroying I couldn’t get out of there fast enough
A week later the results came back Negative Same scenario as many years ago I was so pissed off that I had allowed myself to get back on that rollercoaster
Two months later we had to return to the clinic This time to get a prescription sorted This time to see a locum an unknown male doctor As we drove my stomach began churning my head was pounding I was feeling really sick I realised I was experiencing full on panic attack Very thankful for understanding spousal support
Also grateful to meet the doctor as he was wonderful and understanding and helpful and not a bully Such a major relief
Moving forward a few weeks to another therapy session Talking about other things when all of a sudden I was hit by the understanding as to why I reacted so violently to the situation at the clinic
Yes, there was definitely the understandable reaction of an abuse victim But there was more and this is where it gets very personal and you may want to leave the room about now
When I was a child from the age of 7-8 till 18 I was a victim of incest at the hands of my father This is not debatable it happened it is My Truth
I was asked last week how did I seperate the pain from the pleasure That is one of the hardest things for a child to compute because incest is delivered by the person who you love and who is supposed to love you It is not always violent there is a lot of grooming and is executed in a misguided ‘loving way’ so there is more pleasure than pain
Just explaining this makes me want to vomit My response to the question came along with flashbacks that I had buried but obviously not deep enough “As a preteen/teen I felt incredibly trapped and I went through the motions required just so I could escape as fast as I could”
At that moment I understood my reaction in the nurses clinic I felt trapped I acquiesced to enable my escape
I had retreated back into that young girl and I did the only thing I knew how
I hope you haven’t run out of popcorn this isn’t the end of the story just this chapter….
at first it slams engulfs drowns How can we possibly survive our loss total and utter impossibility shock overwhelms us gut punched bewilderment convulsive sobbing brokenness blankness . . . grief
As moments become days become months
the sadness & sobbing reduce to tears melancholy questions anger more sadness blankness depression fatigue . . . grief
and with the years come resignation flashbacks sleeplessness nostalgic longing embodied sadness emotional numbness rememberings wistful memories . . . grief
Our journey unfolds personal processing no right no wrong grief grips our future it is always there we blank it out we mind block the triggers we hold in tears we nurse the pieces of our broken heart until our inward flowing tears glue the parts together there will always be cracks it will never be whole ever again But those cracks remind us every day of the intense beauty of loving of being loved
When life is trucking along you are hit by small triggers spasmodically but you just stop briefly and deal with them as they bump you then you’re back on course again till the next wee one They feel big But in actuality they’re just potholes that reduce your speed momentarily
But when out of left field a huge train mows you down you don’t have time to run for cover It unleashes all the demons that you’ve managed to keep locked in your basement for the past years
It sucker punches gut punches derails you
all the tips and techniques you’ve learnt all the therapies all the breathing everything just flies out the window
Those demons start playing havoc in your head reigniting memories exhausting you with all the ‘whatifs’ all the ‘whys’
Taking me down trails I don’t want to go the overgrown tracks I have been consciously avoiding shutting out closing my mind to No!! I don’t want to go there again No more Stop!!!
The anger the grief the absolute sadness and the feelings of betrayal
The betrayal is the worst all these years and they knew but they stayed silent
the fight I’ve felt the fight I’ve fought nine years of active duty for my baby
two years of holding him fighting him fighting for him containing him suffering with him but not understanding not knowing the cause or the pain
then the discovery the horror the disbelief and weirdly, the relief as if a diagnosis can heal a broken soul of course it can’t but it gives perspective and some understanding
then finally the arrest
and then the silencing began the waiting holding our breath keeping our tongues lawfully gagged closed mouths unable to release the anger and fears contained within my mothers heart so many tears the anxieties and perplexities watching his continuing agonies his blacknesses his fear and incapacities to live fully shared anger shared pain
after four years of being silenced facing that monster who broke my child who tried to destroy us finally being allowed to voice the hatred my anger for all his despicable evilness
then the feeling of bewilderment as the silencing continues our judicial system works slowly inefficiently almost impotently the temptation to allow a bullet or a rope is so great but reality checks our responses
finally his name is revealed to all but only to all who care only to those who give a damn his name is a 5 min wonder in the daily newspaper buried unless you know
26 months for all the pain and the torture inflicted upon us all 26 months for lives wrecked and destroyed 26 months… words fail me I’m silenced again this time by my inability to express brokenness
then after not long enough gut slamming phone calls parole board mandatory reports received when least expected bolts from the blue jarring me back to those years past
re-opening the numbed lesions of my soul released after 17 months served how is this justice my body tries to find the anger and the rage but all that’s left is soul destroying numbness helplessness nothingness blankness
the proverbial rug has been completely pulled from under the silence is continuing ringing in my ears so loudly i cannot hear i’m crushed my fight is broken
this pain shouldn’t be my pain to carry but this is my baby my precious, precious child the one I birthed and have nurtured for over 2 decades his pain is my pain a mother carries her child’s pain as if it were her own in the hopes that he will eventually be free of his own
when you spend the day creating for a special person to lift their spirits and to share your love and then a phone call one you’ve been dreading hoping not to receive
grief hits you a side blow and you come tumbling down the pain from within echoes that of times past losing a loved life long partner so heartbreakingly hard
tears flow where do I go with this where can I go but to other friends
spend time with friends now before its too late make time take time before you have to join to celebrate the life well lived of yet another friend who has left too soon
when your head hurts when there is so much chaos inside that it blanks out all rational thinking random thoughts swirl around battering my brain cells like a raging storm I try to follow one thought but it diverges into a torrent flowing a different direction another thought and another small streams all diverging into a raging river of pain
pain from so many sources heavy weightedness my head aches with weariness my body drags with an unexplainable lethargy I don’t know how to find the beginning let alone the end too many beginnings they just add and add and add so much more pain and grief to the weightedness I am feeling
a random person sees my pained being delivers a hug causing my eyes leak with tears but still holding back the rivers that want to flow because those nearest cannot see what is inside of me and I am scared than if they do it will horrify them because it terrifies me
I try to grasp at one to decipher where it came from but my brain sees another and runs to that then to another until my head is so full
my hands try to hold my brain the explosions of pain darkness weariness sadness
how can I describe the darkness within when I cannot find the beginning to begin
For the past few days my mind has been a mash up of blank emotions Feeling with others Identifying with parts of their stories But not knowing how to process my own Because it just feels too huge Too complicated Where do I start my PTSD, my ball of string, has so many pieces rolled into it some are long, very very very long and others are short, abrupt, moments with many varying lengths between
This morning Russell Brand challenged me loud and clear He pushed me up off of my pillows and said Start writing!
Here goes….
My father He was my main fuck up He fucked me up so fucking good He spent my entire childhood ensuring I was totally fucked up And he did such a good job of it Incest is the most confusing type of sexual abuse anyone can endure No violence involved Just so called love and enjoyment It turns my stomach to recall how much he made me enjoy what he did to me For over 10 years That is a total screw up in anyones brain I bury those memories so deep But this morning they are surfacing And I am SO FUCKING ANGRY He stole so much from me The pleasure of actually knowing when I lost my virginity Or the ability to give consent and give myself to who I wanted The never knowing when, because it is blurred into obscurity The not knowing how to guide my own children My children – OMG don’t get me started on that He locked my emotions up so fucking much I didn’t know how to parent or communicate with me own children I so fucked up my own children
That day we were going to visit our friends the day our landrover rolled off the road and down the bank the day the one man I trusted let me down for the first time that one error of judgement set triggers alight that haunt me decades later fears that seem now to be irrational but are so fucking real fear of falling fear of losing my children fear of confined spaces fear of losing control fears, irrational and uncontrollable fears…
Home from the hospital an innocent comment A curious question Allowed us to discover our precious daughter had been abused whilst we were away she was in the care of someone we trusted but still a fucked up deviant who managed to get to my precious little girl So Fucking Up and So Fucking Angry
A month later pregnant with very unplanned baby No4 after pelvic injuries, broken left ankle, sprained right knee and weeks on crutches after a month of painkillers after a month of vomiting then bleeding a bucket full of bleeding nearly died getting to the hospital I lost my baby
Abused by a hospital doctor another man I should’ve been able to trust my husband’s ignorance/innocence in female medical stuff allowed it to happen Nurses enveloped me allowed me to cry helped me understand what he did to me was wrong a week later re-admittance a repeat proceedure re-traumatisation
Finally home Fucked up again No you can’t grieve your baby You gotta praise God Cuz you gotta accept its all part of his plan So no tears No sadness Let’s just praise God and carry on living So Fucked Up
Baby No5 Perfectly normal pregnancy Horrendous delivery Hospital trauma Stirrups Huge needle in my spine during stage 2 Total evacuation of my uterus Post birth – you need to get out of bed Migraine to the max Oops – another medical fuckup More needles in my spine “oh you have a wee boy after 3 girls. How lovely” No fucking way do I want this kid! I am in so much pain and you expect me to love this baby 10 days to finally hold and begin to love my boy Such a Fuck Up
Baby No7 7 years later My friends enveloped me Finally I was allowed to grieve But along the way pieces of trauma varying degrees of severity adding up relationships family dramas accidents business issues so many traumas and falls, so many falls culminating in years and years of body pain But swept aside as just another thing to deal with I kept busy, keeping busy Running the farm Doing all the bookwork Raising & educating my 10 living children Feeding the myriads that surrounded our family table each day Encapsulating extreme busyness! I was really, really good at keeping busy
Unknowingly My stress bucket was filling then one evening one small thing was said But it was magnificent & breathtaking in its delivery and its magnificence overflowed my bucket And I broke An emotional breakdown that completely unhinged me Threw me off of my rotation And spin me out of my carefully controlled busyness It totally bewildered my husband It completely blindsided me But actually I wasn’t shocked I had been quietly screaming for help since I was a small child
That Fuck Up led me on my course of discovery and healing And I am so fucking grateful I began then
Because the 2nd biggest Fuck Up of my life happened two years later
On the 17th February 2013 see! this time I remember all everything each detail of that day is marked with such clarity
My husband, My Timmy The man who had loved me since I was 14 years old The man who saved me and cherished me The man I loved so much left for town and he never came home He was killed Instantly only 20mins from our home when his vehicle left the road and rolled 200m down the hillside
The trauma from that moment has overshadowed almost every other trauma in my life I was so Fucked Up and Fucked Over by the police, victim support etc The people that are supposed to be there for you What a massive Fucked Up! the spiral rippling effect this one event has had on myself my children our extended family is beyond belief I cannot even write this without crying I can talk about my abuse I can get angry, feel sad, etc But I can’t cry But for this my heart cries It is like a bottomless well of tears that will never stop They are always there No matter how happy my life is or how content I am in the moment This trauma has fucked me up like no other
Leaving our home of over 40 years Packing up after 4 generations that was traumatic in itself The splintering of our family The inability of my children to process and support each other as they each reeled in their own pain We have been so Fucked Up
Moving to the city Creating new life and new friends exciting but So hard I got a job A dream job Working with Sexual Abuse victims I So Loved my job Until I was Fucked Over once again by the person who was supposed to support us and be there for us Our Team Manager After a particular horrendous call out The worst any of us had ever experienced Instead of support and care I was Traumatised Victimised Stung big time by a scorpion Put over a barrel – had to leave Fucked Up Again
And in amongst my story there are my children My children all have their own stories I have permission to tell some but now is not that place Their stories require their own spaces Their stories are interwoven with mine through it all We have become stronger Still Fucked Up But So Much Fuckin Stronger
