The journey begins ... or continues ... articulating the rollercoaster that is my life

[mumstheword]

I'm so tired today.
I had equine therapy yesterday.
I loved it.
It teaches me a lot about myself.


My big daughter is struggling. So run down. Injured (dog bites) hurt by her dad's psychosocial disability and her brothers mental health problems, she keeps getting stones in her saliva glands. It's most likely caused by stress (apparently, so her dad said he looked up and read, but what about diet? She has a very restrictive diet. Maybe she's got nutritional imbalances that are causal too?) It's a very unusual problem and the specialist is putting her on the list to have her saliva gland removed . She doesn't want the op though.

She's been leaning on me, a bit, which is lovely. She's finally getting to know my guy, too, which is also lovely.

I'm not going into hospital until the last week of November, now.

It's my kid's dad's birthday tomorrow.

My daughter is starting to really see what her dad is really like. See his narcissism and his dishonesty. She said "He's definitely got some kind of personality disorder".
It's a double edged sword, because it's a painfully hard truth but it's also freeing.

She's very, very exhausted and emotionally and physically run down.

She's very strong, kind, compassionate and intelligent, though.

My guy is very happy to be getting to know her.:)

 

[mumstheword]

I've invited her up here, for after her saliva gland stone removal. She could rest and get looked after.
I m not sure if she will come, but I bet it feels good to know she can if she wants.

 

[mumstheword]

Time to keep going with the timeline. I'm up to age eight.
I think I might have been 8 when the last few attacks by one of mum's bfs happened. Not me, her, but her, in front of me.
Once after she called her parent's to ask if she and I could stay for a few nights, to get away from the violence. Her mum said "no".

Once she screamed at me to get help from the neighbors. I tried, but I was too scared. I picked up a stick to try fight him off. He had stopped beating her when I got back.

Eight was when I got sexually assauted at after school care. It wasn't rape though. I was stripped in front of a group of kid's who all egged the abuser on.
The after school care adult hadn't shown up, so I was forcibly and violently relieved of my underwear and laughed at by the whole group. I never told anyone.

Eight was when I accidently squished my pet mouse. I was devastated.

Eight was when my mum met my stepdad. He was a drug addict. I didn't really like him at first. He was loud and very amped up. He was French. I grew to love him, especially after he quit drugs and went into rehab. He died as a result of his drug habit and depression and (I believe) from mum's abuse and borderline personality disorder.

Eight was not too bad.
Things got way worse.

Maybe more of the violence with the previous-to-my-stepdad-mum's boyfriend happened when I was eight. To be honest, I can hardly remember anything of being eight.

 

[Mach123]

I'm not making light of what you're saying at all when I say "sounds like home" or "thanks for describing the old neighborhood." I think a lot of what went on was us as children trying to deal with what they were or were not doing to us at home? Plus most of them were drunk or drinking and on who knows what and then we were all drunk and on whatever we could get our hands on once we were 15 or whatever so it was just one big party. : ( I remember distinctly wanting it all to be funny. Like just laugh it all off and keep the party going. It wasn't though.

 

[NatBird]

Time to keep going with the timeline. I'm up to age eight.
I think I might have been 8 when the last few attacks by one of mum's bfs happened. Not me, her, but her, in front of me.
Once after she called her parent's to ask if she and I could stay for a few nights, to get away from the violence. Her mum said "no".

Once she screamed at me to get help from the neighbors. I tried, but I was too scared. I picked up a stick to try fight him off. He had stopped beating her when I got back.

Eight was when I got sexually assauted at after school care. It wasn't rape though. I was stripped in front of a group of kid's who all egged the abuser on.
The after school care adult hadn't shown up, so I was forcibly and violently relieved of my underwear and laughed at by the whole group. I never told anyone.

Eight was when I accidently squished my pet mouse. I was devastated.

Eight was when my mum met my stepdad. He was a drug addict. I didn't really like him at first. He was loud and very amped up. He was French. I grew to love him, especially after he quit drugs and went into rehab. He died as a result of his drug habit and depression and (I believe) from mum's abuse and borderline personality disorder.

Eight was not too bad.
Things got way worse.

Maybe more of the violence with the previous-to-my-stepdad-mum's boyfriend happened when I was eight. To be honest, I can hardly remember anything of being eight.

Um I feel angry and sad that your eight year old self went through this. At the same time I am truly amazed that you are here in the way that you are in the way that you extend and express yourself. I am sorry that your eight year old went through those things. Sending support and a hug if welcome.

 

[NatBird]

Today I'm alone and feeling lost. Who am I now? I don't have my music career, my dance, my peer support work (other than here, but that doesn't really count, does it?)

You are what has always been, underneath the muck and the sludge that was dumped, you are a whole lot of beauty, inspiration, light, brilliance, kindness, courage and love. Only this could stay alive and shine.

And you count. Your words, encouragement, sharing, it all matters.

 

[littleoc]

Eight would be troubling to any person. I am not sure it matters that worse things happened later. That’s still troubling.

What was the mouse’s name, out of curiosity?

 

[Freida]

Eight was not too bad.
Things got way worse

This makes me so sad....that you don't think this life at 8 was bad. It was horrible....And yet to you it was less than what comes next. Your poor little...:(

 

[mumstheword]

Thank for for the feedback and support @Mach123, @NatBird, @littleoc and @Freida.

 

[mumstheword]

@Mach123 , it sucks that you had a similar shitty home life and neighborhood. At least we have each other, here, now, other's who get it.

I've read quite a lot of your stuff and I know we have autistic kid's in common too.

I'm really doing my best to give my own inner "little" the love and care she never got, now. It's tricky, coz I have a lot of children, but only one still at home with me.

My autistic grown up kid is in a supported "Villa" with his own unit and carers round the clock and a good day program in a great disability org. I feel very fortune for that, coz I just couldn't provide for everything he needs, myself. I don't even drive yet. Take care. I enjoy (is that the right word? ) reading you. Your humour and strength and honesty come through loud and clear.

 

[mumstheword]

Um I feel angry and sad that your eight year old self went through this. At the same time I am truly amazed that you are here in the way that you are in the way that you extend and express yourself. I am sorry that your eight year old went through those things. Sending support and a hug if welcome.

@NatBird, I feel the same when I read about the horrible abuses and neglect that your family put you through too. I love the way you keeping showing up for yourself, now, though. You are an incredibly strong and courageous woman and I feel that I love you dearly.

 

[mumstheword]

Eight would be troubling to any person. I am not sure it matters that worse things happened later. That’s still troubling.

What was the mouse’s name, out of curiosity?

@littleoc, I'm sorry, I can't, for the life of me, remember my mouses name. I remember he was grey and white and exceedingly cute though. I squished him when I moved his glass house to find him. He was behind it.
And yes, troubling is a good word for lots of stuff from childhood. My mother told me that I was a "difficult child". I think I was a troubled child. It's a shame I didn't get support with it, before I ended up repeating the cycle, with another abuser that I am stuck having children with, now. Oh well, at least I'm learning from it all.