I was talking to my T about fear yesterday. I was sharing that when my dad flew into his rages. I was frozen in fear. I literally could not move. Yet, it wasn't enough to stick a knife in me he twisted it.
I told her that every time he did this I really thought he was going to kill me. I was always in fear of what he was capable of. I remember telling myself...he could kill you. She was taken aback. She asked to explain more. So, this is not a common feeling? If a parent rages at you. He could end my life. There was no doubt in my mind that he could have easily killed me. His rage had no limits. I told her how he would hit me in the head so hard I would see stars. A punch in the stomach that would knock the wind out of me. Yet, it wasn't a beating. It was one calculated blow. I then started defending him to my T. Well, he obviously had PTSD himself. He had a very abusive childhood...much worse than mine. She stopped me in my tracks. The T said wait a minute. I really don't care about what he went through. I want to hear about what you went through. That was tough. All these feelings bubbled up to the surface.
Yet, my early childhood years being spent in a series of foster homes with my brother helped. I developed an attachment disorder. I never bonded with my abusers. My step-mother was also abusive towards me. I wonder if my stoicism made me an easy target. I wonder if they knew I didn't care about them. I never missed them or enjoyed spending time with them. Once I turned 18 I left.
Sigh....so much to process.
If anyone can relate to that level of fear I would love for you to share.
I told her that every time he did this I really thought he was going to kill me. I was always in fear of what he was capable of. I remember telling myself...he could kill you. She was taken aback. She asked to explain more. So, this is not a common feeling? If a parent rages at you. He could end my life. There was no doubt in my mind that he could have easily killed me. His rage had no limits. I told her how he would hit me in the head so hard I would see stars. A punch in the stomach that would knock the wind out of me. Yet, it wasn't a beating. It was one calculated blow. I then started defending him to my T. Well, he obviously had PTSD himself. He had a very abusive childhood...much worse than mine. She stopped me in my tracks. The T said wait a minute. I really don't care about what he went through. I want to hear about what you went through. That was tough. All these feelings bubbled up to the surface.
Yet, my early childhood years being spent in a series of foster homes with my brother helped. I developed an attachment disorder. I never bonded with my abusers. My step-mother was also abusive towards me. I wonder if my stoicism made me an easy target. I wonder if they knew I didn't care about them. I never missed them or enjoyed spending time with them. Once I turned 18 I left.
Sigh....so much to process.
If anyone can relate to that level of fear I would love for you to share.