So another of my beautiful, handsome, intelligent, amazing sons is having a birthday today. He is 22. Our relationship has been very painful these last 7 years. I left. I made a decision "if I stay, I will surely die. If I get away, I can maybe survive and even if my children are angry with me, at least I'll still be alive, for them to be angry with."
I was very broken. Very shattered. I had been living with terrible neglect, abuse, and c-ptsd for most of my life. I had done a lot of starving myself, not sleeping, overworking and smoking weed, just to stave off the unbearable agony of my condition and daily abuse and suicidal ideation.
The abuse broke my mind, my sense of self, my nervous system and my body started to break down in innumerable ways.
I had tried to hang on, to give my children the family I never had. But it was, and is, a very broken, dysfunctional family.
I made it. I survived. I survived incredible hardships and huge heartbreak. Shunned by family, community, medical community, homeless when fighting to not die in winter, then a woman's refuge; I got care of youngest children.
I found support from another sufferer, university, mental health peers (training and community of recoverers) and holistic health pathways.
Slowly, my children stopped being part of their dad's bullying. This son has been the slowest.
