Tag: trauma memory

+IN MY MOTHER’S WORDS: WHY SHE HAD TO ABUSE ME

alchemynow1 Comment

I just surprising discovered in my mother’s 1957 diary her own written account of her version of reality related to one of the most long term and vicious child abuse memories of my young childhood.

I am stunned by her words, by the fact that she EVER allowed herself to write them, that this diary has survived these 52 years, that I have them in my possession, and that I found them last night.

I have done my best to describe my present day reaction to these writings, though I feel I have very nearly failed completely in my efforts to understand their true value or meaning.

I wish I knew more.  I wish I understood better, could see more clearly, and comprehend more objectively how twisted my mother was and how much I suffered as a result of her insidious, malicious mental illness.

It is a bizarre and strangely bizarre experience to actually have the words of a perpetrator in the hands of the victim.  However inadequate my efforts may be, all I can offer today is my presentation of

my mother’s version of what happened to me about the bubble gum

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+NOT AN EASY PAGE TO WRITE

alchemynowLeave a comment

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

This is (follow this link) not an easy page for me to write –  through my tears and with my nose all drippy and goopy.  I do not wish to limit what I write about because of shame, or because of being too proud.  Yet at the same time it is not yet time to write about the specifics of this 9-year relationship that has brought me so much joy, multiplied ten thousand times by sadness, grief and sorrow.

It is not apologies or words in my own defense that I offer here.  I simply state what I know about what is going on right now, the same thing that has been going on for these 9 years as the inevitable ending of this relationship approaches.

Through my work to understand how my pain in the present connects directly to the pain from my childhood, I am coming to understand how vulnerable I have always been to end up loving a man such as the one I love now.  There has never been a simple cure for the harm that was caused to me by 18 years of severe abuse.  Yet I know more and more clearly what I want now.

I want peace.  Simple, pure peace.  I am not there yet.  I am not there.

For now, I can only offer this:  not an easy page for me to write

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Please access these pages on Domestic Violence and Abuse for important additional information —

From the Mayo Clinic on:  Domestic violence against women: Recognize patterns, seek help

The National Coalition Against Domestic Violence

Domestic Violence Awareness Handbook

Domestic Abuse Project

Psychological Abuse

More links to information about Psychological Abuse

The Silent Treatment

Abusive Relationships

Mental and Emotional Abuse in Relationships

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+OPENING OUR OWN HEARTS AND MINDS TO THE REALITIES OF CHILD ABUSE

alchemynowLeave a comment

There are too many new letters being transcribed to include them all on the temporary page.  I am spending time right now working on the 1960 letters and am currently working on April and May of that year – with more to follow as they are filed within the months of 1960.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I especially would like to recommend to readers the important comments made today on this blog by Paul M. McLaughlin.

Please visit the two comment pages he posted to:  Stop the Storm’s Contact Information Page and to the post HOW DID THE ABUSE CHANGE US?  Valuable links to his website, to the record of his work to prevent child abuse, and to his personal story are contained in his comments.

I am honored that Paul has shared the heroic story of his life as a survivor of 20 years of terrible childhood abuse with me and with my readers.  Thank you, Paul!

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I have benefited over the years from the efforts of many therapists that I was able to access on my pathway of healing.  Some of the words that I heard them tell me have returned when I have needed to remember them.  I would like to say a heartfelt “THANK YOU” to all the professionals working in a wide variety of fields to help not only prevent child abuse, but to help those of us who survived it, to heal.

After my work on the ‘writings’ yesterday I had great difficulty in sleeping last night.  It is now 9:30 at night and I am only now feeling ‘strong enough’ to approach any writing for today.

The words of two separate therapists from my past echoed in my mind today.  One of them said to me, over and over again, “Linda, always do what YOU need to do to take care of yourself.”  When I look back at the sessions I had with this woman, I remember that I had to take a tape recorder with me to record every session.  Without these recordings I could never remember one single thing we talked about together.

I didn’t understand dissociation at that time.  Nor did this therapist ‘waste’ any time explaining it to me.  We simply together found a way around the problem as it related to our sessions.  I would play the tapes over again several times between sessions, and doing so helped me to ‘grow into’ the topics we discussed.  But the single most important gift I received from this woman are the words I just mentioned.  “Always do what YOU need to do to take care of yourself.”

Those simple words contain within them a universe of healing potential.  They will never be words I will outgrow, or afford to ignore.  Today has been a day when I had to take special good care of myself.  Survivors need to learn how to do this for ourselves, always.

++

The other set of words a therapist of my past told me that came into my mind today are about the process of healing itself.  She told me that this process is like a finely crocheted, beautiful doily.  What makes them attractive is the balance between tight and wide open spaces within the pattern.  She told me that when we sometimes work very hard on an ‘issue’ we are making the tight, close together, denser part of the pattern of our healing.  But we need the loose times, as well.  There are times we have to leave all of it completely alone, take a break, do whatever we need to do to give ourselves a rest from the ‘work’ itself.

I thought about these words today and am so grateful for the opportunities I have been given in the past to access quality therapy.  Each time of contact I have had with each ‘specialist’ gave me what I needed at that point in time.  Today I carry so much within me of what these people gave me – as well as the work I did for myself each step of the journey along the way.

++

Reading Paul McLaughlin’s words echoed with the sadness inside of me about how hurtful ANY abuse is, but particularly the abuse of infants and young children.  I believe that we have a social taboo against truly allowing ourselves to look severe abuse of the tiniest of people straight in the eye.  No species endures if their most helpless offspring are not cared for and cherished.

While the taboos against harming infants and children exist for a wide purpose, I want to encourage all of us to build up our tolerance – like building and strengthening muscles – so that we can allow ourselves to know in our minds and in our feelings what the reality of early terrible abuse of young ones really is – that it exists, that it happens, that it has severe and lifelong consequences.

I am not suggesting that we pursue a morbid approach – just an educational one for ourselves as members of a culture that continues to need to ‘raise consciousness’ about child abuse and neglect.  Paul’s writings contribute to this denial-smashing.  True, Paul was born in 1948 and I was born in 1950, both of us in a time when public awareness and consciousness about child abuse was still in the stone ages.

But what touched me most today when I visited his website is that there were no doubt many, many, many people surrounding this boy and his twin sister who SHOULD have used common sense to intervene to protect these children.  I’m not going to be the one here to point the finger, but read his story and look at it yourself.  If we were all actors and actresses in a stage play of his childhood, what would each of us have been able to do differently from what the people actually did who were there?

Where and how in today’s world, where we each live our lives, can we apply new insights and new information so that if history ever repeats itself within the sphere of our individual influence we can do something BETTER to help a child – to help many children – that so desperately need someone to notice, pay attention, and care enough to help them?

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

As always, thank you for reading – your comments are welcome and appreciated!

+LOOKING FOR MY STORY IN THE CHAOS OF MADNESS

alchemynow2 Comments

This is the link to one of the ‘article’ pieces I have found among my mother’s papers.  It was with August 1960 letters, but had no date on the paper it was written on.

My mother was certain that she was going to ‘someday’ write a book on homesteading, She specifically planned that her letters to my grandmother, written during this time were saved, and returned back to her.  Yet very, very few of the letters had any date placed on them at all.

I can estimate letter dates by the envelope postmarks, but many letters are NOT in envelopes and without dates it makes it extremely hard to know where to place the letters along the ‘timeline’ of my childhood years that I am trying to create!

My grandmother, an educated and astute woman, obviously knew of my mother’s plan because she was a participant in it.  Yet she did not make sure on her end, once she had received a letter, that she wrote at least the date the letter came into her hands if there was no clear postmark on the envelope – which happened often!

The inability to ‘tell a coherent life story’ in adulthood – or even during an abusive childhood – is a prime hallmark symptom of an insecure attachment-disordered pattern formed by ‘inadequate’ early infant and childhood interactions with caregivers.

My mother had such an insecure attachment pattern, which she GOT in her childhood from her interactions with her mother (and others).   It looks to me as I work with the writings — that went back and forth between these women for years — as if this total lack of organization or coherent ordering of all these carefully written and preserved letters about the story of homesteading, are themselves in a state that is a clear indication of the MESS that the insecure attachment patterns created in my mother’s life as well as in my own childhood.

++++

It is almost as if these letters, journal pages, pieces of articles my mother wrote, my grandmother’s response letters to my mother’s letters – all of them, in the tattered, confused, disorganized, often undated, never been sorted, hauled around in this box or that over thousands of miles and many, many moves, stored in assorted storage lockers for decades – are themselves all remnants of once-lived lives that were lived in a very similar fashion.  Yet they also reflect a certain value shared in common – they endured and they survived.  They are still here, as I am.

It seems to be my life’s work right now to find the stories in the stories.  I have amazing advantages that my mother and my grandmother never had in their lifetimes.  I have the very real gift of a computer, the gift of the internet, and the gift of this free blog space so generously provided by WordPress.com.   My sister gave me this computer for my writing.  My brother gave me this printer.  My children pay for my internet.  I am grateful to all of them.

My mother and grandmother cared enough about one another to write all these letters.  They cared enough to hold onto them, to keep them, to preserve them.  In the same strange way that I can never ‘blame’ my mother for her abuse of me because I understand how sick she was, I cannot ‘blame’ her for never, in her entire lifetime, being able to accomplish with them what she had hoped to do.  She could never write her own book.  She could never publish.  She could never tell her own coherent life story for the same reason she could not adequately mother her own children.

++

These papers are in their own form of chaos, and within their words they tell stories of the chaos that was my childhood.  It would take an almost super human effort to actually create the coherent story now.  I would be very surprised if I can do it in my lifetime.  My process does not feel like ‘blogging’ to me.  It feel like ‘plogging’ as I spend hundreds and hundreds of tedious hours trying to find and create order out of this madness.

For every step I take I hope that if I can’t actually finish bringing this whole story together, maybe at least the work I am doing now will be picked up by another generation so it can be ‘finished’ in the future.  We are a family of writers.  Perhaps that is our curse.  Yet I feel as if all my ancestors’ words are being placed in safe keeping as I enter them into this clean white screen of my computer.  I feel honored to be able to share them with you., including this article piece that my mother wrote 49 years ago.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+UNBELIEVABLE DELUSIONS – MY POOR BROTHER

alchemynowLeave a comment

I am going to share this

November 9, 1960 letter

that I transcribed today. It is one my mother wrote to her mother, and is placed in the section on My Childhood Stories, and referred to as “The Troubles of John.”

(It will also be filed in the collection of other 1960 letters my mother wrote, which will include the February 2, 1960 letter that I also transcribed today.)

++

While I have nearly 30 years’ of experience in coming to terms with what my mother did to me, I am almost ashamed to say that it is only now, right now, in the process of pulling all the various writings together that have to do with my family of origin, that I am beginning to develop enough of a tolerance for what my mother ALSO did to my siblings to actually be able to FEEL my feelings about what my mother did to THEM.

I cannot possibly tell my siblings’ stories.  Yet in the instance of this particular November 9, 1960 letter, mostly about my brother John nearly 50 years ago, my mother is writing his story for him when he is 10 years old.  I am reading her words and reacting to them as I feel my own terrible sorrow and tender sadness for the pain she had already caused my brother by that age.

++

As far as I am concerned whomever it was that coined the phrase, “Read ‘em and weep,” could have been talking about this

November 9, 1960 letter.

I am experiencing a whole new level to my own healing —  being able to expand my emotional awareness of the harm that was done to me by the harm that was done to my siblings.  I cannot heal them.  But I can publish this letter and my comments to it today in honor of my dearly beloved Big Brother John. I love you!  Linda

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+LINK TO MY MOTHER’S 1955 (short) DIARY

alchemynowLeave a comment

Although there were very few pages written in my mother’s 1955 diary, they was enough information there to provide some me with some insights about the year I turned four.  No doubt my mother was very busy during this year caring for the 3 children she already had under the age of five while she carried her 4th baby and gave birth on July 20, 1955 to my youngest sister.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+TOUGH STUFF, LOOKING AT MYSELF AT 25

alchemynowLeave a comment

0611309

It turns my stomach to read this 1976 letter I wrote to my mother.  I have a hard time showing myself mercy, or accepting today how blind I remained for so many, many years.  Nobody TOLD me my childhood was abusive.  Nobody EVER asked me about my childhood or seemed to care.  I had no idea the abuse I suffered for 18 years meant anything to anybody, and it certainly had no bearing that I was aware of on who I was in 1976.

Yet at the same time the abuse was running my life and I did not know it.  I was that same confused, hurting, scared, battered, isolated, depressed and lost person I had been throughout all of my life.  I was in pieces.  I was broken.  I was mislead.  I was so very courageous as I kept putting one foot in front of the other and marched down the road of my life – from one event to the next – never stopping to look backwards at where I had come from or at what I had endured.

At least if one survives a holocaust or a prisoner of war camp or torture as an adult, they have the advantage of knowing something HAPPENED to them that was traumatic, out of the ordinary, difficult.  I had the benefit of no such insight.  Just as I never knew what my siblings did, that my mother was NUTS, I also had no idea that what she did to me was WRONG or hurtful.

I needed to know.  How I was as an ongoing participant of the lie affected my ability to parent my own children.  I was prevented from being present in my own body or in my own life.  I was prevented from being a self even though I could pretend I was one, evidently well enough that nobody else ever noticed the truth about Linda, either.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

BE sure to  check out the newest 1955 spooky doll story at the bottom of the page with the little poem about my mother and dolls – as she indoctrinates not only me at 3 ½, but my 18 month old sister, Cindy, as well.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+NOW PUBLISHED – MOTHER’S 1945 DIARY AND MY INTRO TO IT

alchemynowLeave a comment

Both of the following pages are now published online:  MY INTRODUCTION TO MY MOTHER’S 1945 DIARY, is placed on Stop the Storm, connected to my story of leaving home.

I placed it here because while my mother’s own writings as they are contained in MY MOTHER’S 1945 DIARY belong at Take Care of Mothers because they are her words of her own life that did not relate to my life as a child until I reached my own teen and young adult years as her daughter.

My introduction describes how my mother found ways of letting me know prior to my leaving home what her own young adulthood was like for her – as she contrasted it very clearly to my own experience of being a teen and young adult — as her daughter.  Believe me, unlike her, I had no fun at all.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+MY LITTLE POEM ABOUT MY CHILD-SELF MOTHER

alchemynowLeave a comment

I believe my mother grew up as a young girl in an emotionally confusing, harsh and barren world where her doll babies were her solace.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

+APPROACHING MY MOTHER’S 1953 DIARY

alchemynowLeave a comment

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

These are both completed now:

*MY INTRODUCTION TO MY MOTHER’S 1953 DIARY

**1953 – MY MOTHER’S DIARY – PART ONE

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

I could not complete the transcription of my mother’s 1953 diary without stopping half way through the year.  I had to give myself permission to create a context of safety for myself as I continue to read her words.  The platform that I created for myself as I wrote my introduction to her 1953 diary feels secure enough for me to continue the transcription of her writings.  The transcription is not complete yet, but I will let you know as soon as they are published online as they will be contained within the following pages:

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

*MY INTRODUCTION TO MY MOTHER’S 1953 DIARY

**1953 – MY MOTHER’S DIARY – PART ONE

**1953 – MY MOTHER’S DIARY – PART TWO

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++