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When it comes to being outside the circle of ordinary/normal infant/child socialization, I might just about be an expert.  SO ‘at least’ my unusual perceptions as an ‘outsider’ allows me to think/perceive/suspect/wonder about things that ordinary/normal people (NOT severely abused and traumatized from birth people) might never consider.

Before I even write another word about resiliency factors I want to introduce the importance of HUMOR (dark, light, gray) when it comes to considering the context of your abusive/traumatic early life.  I’m not sure there even IS any other way to think about the unthinkable — what went so RIGHT in an infant/childhood where so much obviously went so WRONG!

Yes, humor can put a different twist on things, shed a different light, allowing us to notice what tends to be invisible and overwhelmed by the darkness of terrifying and terrible infant/child abuse and trauma.

So — with a very important twist of enlightening humor –the following comes to mind…..

So — my mother forced me to spend weeks on end lying in my bed alone as a component of some bizarre punishment scheme of hers or another — at least I had a bed!

So — my mother forced me to stand in corners for days and days from sunup to after sundown — at least we had a shelter to live in — and at least the sun went DOWN though, “SHUCKS, too bad it came back up!”

So — my mother forced 99.5% of her insane abuse on me while my siblings (though witness abuse and trauma bonding must have been their fare) went out to play, ate dinner as a family, dragged in a Christmas tree, WHATEVER they were doing — at least I had siblings and was NOT absolutely alone with my mother as an only child and I had hearing so that I could listen to everyone else having a life…..

So — never once did my father intervene to stop my mother’s abuse, to acknowledge me as a loved daughter (etc….) — at least I knew who my father was, at least he never abandoned his family, at least he had a job and provided for us……

So — I was terrified at school of doing something ‘wrong’ so that my mother would get a ‘report’ from the teacher — at least I got an education and stayed smart and still love learning….

So — my mother belittled and shamed me that I wrote ‘stupid stories’ and drew ‘the ugliest pictures’ — at least our family valued ‘art’ and provided me access to the basics of paper, scissors, pencils and crayons.

So — my mother kept me most of my childhood from going outside to play — at least on our Alaskan homestead I always knew that the perfect beauty of the wilderness was just on the outside of the walls….

So — my mother violently bashed my head and face into the toilet bowl when I was four because she believed I was trying to murder my 2 year old sister when I was just showing her the beautiful bubbles the sunlight made on the pattern of the shadow of the hair ball floating in the water — at least my mother NEVER removed from me my powerful love of beauty…..

So — my mother viciously verbally abused me when my pet rabbit died — at least I had been allowed to HAVE a pet to love….

So — my mother abused me at times with too little or too much food to eat — at least there was always something in the house to eat…..

So — my mother took the family to Alaska when I was five, to a large extent to remove my grandmother from my life — at least I had SOME attention from my grandmother before then and I knew she was alive in Los Angeles….

So — my mother liked to place me in the center of the car’s back seat so she could train the rear-view mirror directly on me so she could stare at me and give me the perpetual evil eye — at least our family had transportation…..

So — we moved a bizillion times in my childhood — at least when my mother was en-captured in her move-a-thons she had less time to traumatize me and at least some of those moves took us up to the homestead I loved….

So — my mother beat me many times ‘to within an inch of my life’ — at least there was always that inch….

So — holidays were among the very, very few times my mother’s direct abuse of me abated — at least there were holidays…

So — ‘being in public’ meant that my mother bit her tongue and restrained her fists — at least there WAS public (sometimes)….

So — my mother let me clearly know she hated it that “Linda is never sick” and let me know she wished I was and that none of her other (precious) children had to suffer (as if it was my fault that I refused to take on THEIR sickness) — at least I had a healthy strong body with incredible stamina that allowed me to endure and endure and endure her…..

So — my mother screeched at me when I was 17, “You are no better than a snake!  You would be a terrible mother!  I hope God never sees fit to give you children.” — at least I proved her DEAD WRONG!

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