My son is now 7 years old. He is funny, kind, thoughtful and very smart.
I would say he has had a good childhood so far. He has two loving parents who are sensitive to his feelings. His environment is safe. There hasn't been any obvious trauma in his life that I can speak to.
While I was pregnant, my brother had a very serious breakdown. He was hospitalized, and then I cared for him in my home. He has since had many stays in the hospital, with lots of different doctors who all have had different diagnoses for his mental health.
I can't speak to that, all I can say is that during that time he was in my home, while I was pregnant, I could see the pain he was in, and I knew where it came from.
I could see the little boy he was. He would sit, staring strait ahead not responding, the same way he would when we were children, after the terrible things that happened to us.
I would have flashes from our past. I could see him, crying, hurt, scared, hiding in the closet. I could hear the screaming all around him. I could feel the terror that sourounded him. He was back there again, and I had to fight to not go back there as well.
His presence was a huge trigger for me. I floated between this time, and our extremely abusive childhood together.
As my pregnancy progressed I started to feel protective of my unborn baby. I could instinctively feel that my being triggered like this was not good for my baby. I didn't want him to be growing inside a body filled with anxiety and fear.
As my brother was unable to care for himself I found a really great program that helped people with mental illness regain life skills and learn to live independently again. ( this after his being a very educated and successful business man)
I focused on caring for myself. To the best of my ability I attempted to give my son a peaceful environment to develop and grow. He was born with no complications into my loving and grateful arms.
For the past 7 years I have continued to try and parent him as best I can.
All outward appearances look great. I am very good at masking my inward struggles.
I can help him with his schoolwork while feeling intense anxiety. I focus on the task at hand. I can keep functioning very well. I am a mom, my priority is my son, so I really work at not falling into the fear, not letting it overtake me.
When I am alone it is a different story. I hear screaming, I feel those from the past, here in the room. I feel terrified, alone, hopeless. Then I get up every day and parent to the best of my ability, attempting to give my son the loving, safe childhood I didn't have.
It is hard for me to admit, that dispite my best intentions, I have not protected my son. I have protected him physically. No one has harmed or violated him in any way.
Given all of this, my son is terrified to be alone. He always feels in danger. I can't leave him anywhere. He is afraid to be without myself or his father. If he loses site of me he is hysterical.
The feelings that I try to mask, the terror, the danger, the helplessness and dispare are now manefest in my son. I ask him what he is afraid of, and he says he doesn't know. I know.
Even though I haven't spoken it, he has learned from me that the world is scary and dangerous and he isn't safe. He is sensitive and has felt all of this in me, and even though he hasn't experienced the things I have that made me this way, he has gotten the same effect.
He has felt my fear and dispare. He can't put a name to why it is there. It just is.
It breaks my heart to see this in my son.
I would say he has had a good childhood so far. He has two loving parents who are sensitive to his feelings. His environment is safe. There hasn't been any obvious trauma in his life that I can speak to.
While I was pregnant, my brother had a very serious breakdown. He was hospitalized, and then I cared for him in my home. He has since had many stays in the hospital, with lots of different doctors who all have had different diagnoses for his mental health.
I can't speak to that, all I can say is that during that time he was in my home, while I was pregnant, I could see the pain he was in, and I knew where it came from.
I could see the little boy he was. He would sit, staring strait ahead not responding, the same way he would when we were children, after the terrible things that happened to us.
I would have flashes from our past. I could see him, crying, hurt, scared, hiding in the closet. I could hear the screaming all around him. I could feel the terror that sourounded him. He was back there again, and I had to fight to not go back there as well.
His presence was a huge trigger for me. I floated between this time, and our extremely abusive childhood together.
As my pregnancy progressed I started to feel protective of my unborn baby. I could instinctively feel that my being triggered like this was not good for my baby. I didn't want him to be growing inside a body filled with anxiety and fear.
As my brother was unable to care for himself I found a really great program that helped people with mental illness regain life skills and learn to live independently again. ( this after his being a very educated and successful business man)
I focused on caring for myself. To the best of my ability I attempted to give my son a peaceful environment to develop and grow. He was born with no complications into my loving and grateful arms.
For the past 7 years I have continued to try and parent him as best I can.
All outward appearances look great. I am very good at masking my inward struggles.
I can help him with his schoolwork while feeling intense anxiety. I focus on the task at hand. I can keep functioning very well. I am a mom, my priority is my son, so I really work at not falling into the fear, not letting it overtake me.
When I am alone it is a different story. I hear screaming, I feel those from the past, here in the room. I feel terrified, alone, hopeless. Then I get up every day and parent to the best of my ability, attempting to give my son the loving, safe childhood I didn't have.
It is hard for me to admit, that dispite my best intentions, I have not protected my son. I have protected him physically. No one has harmed or violated him in any way.
Given all of this, my son is terrified to be alone. He always feels in danger. I can't leave him anywhere. He is afraid to be without myself or his father. If he loses site of me he is hysterical.
The feelings that I try to mask, the terror, the danger, the helplessness and dispare are now manefest in my son. I ask him what he is afraid of, and he says he doesn't know. I know.
Even though I haven't spoken it, he has learned from me that the world is scary and dangerous and he isn't safe. He is sensitive and has felt all of this in me, and even though he hasn't experienced the things I have that made me this way, he has gotten the same effect.
He has felt my fear and dispare. He can't put a name to why it is there. It just is.
It breaks my heart to see this in my son.
