Once upon a time , there lived a princess in a castle. I’ll stop right here to discuss Castles. When we are young or not living in trauma, didn’t we all dream of castles ? Yours might have been like this:
Then there is mine :
Pretty stark contrast or were we neighbors ? My castle had thick walls , moats with crocodiles and dungeons where i could self impose punishments for myself. I felt that by keeping myself there i had some control of my out of control life. If i shut myself away i both could never be hurt again or be happy. Win Win , i thought. I didnt deserve to be happy and i knew i’d never have to truly deal with my grief.
Recently , ive been trying to actuallt feel my pain. Ive wanted to touch it and take it apart. My mind is curious that way. What I found would change everything for me.
Pain and trauma is something ive been wearing since at least my teens if not far before. My mom had dropped me on my head at 3 weeks , causing a skull fracture that did not please my young resident father. It embarrassed him that his wife was so careless , afterall , appearances are everything to some. I seemed to have no obvious lasting effect from it. My parents divorced when i was 10. My world suddenly went from one of live in maids and fancy foreign cars to shuttling between two very different worlds. I tried to raise my younger brother and keep my mom alive during her choice to stop actively living.
Did i do it well ? Hell No! But , i did it. i learned to cook and kept the bills paid and dad only came around when he wanted to impress a girlfriend. A horrible place for a young girl , zero guidance from anyone , angry at the world. At tbe time , it probably appeared like a episode of 90210 at times and others Cops. i deperately craved for someone to love me and rescuse me but did it in the worst possible ways.
I acted out , tried illegal things , went on dangerous adventures and told myself i was the lucky one. No one would tell me what to do. i was right , because no adult cared enough about if i was breathing the next day. Growing up with zero rules or cosequnces felt bold and brave! I didnt see the disfunction until i was a Mom.
During that time, in what should have been my great learning years , it was taken from me by anyone with the right words or promises of forever. I so desperately wanted to be loved that i allowed horrible things to happen to myself. Strangely , it wasnt until i was 50 that i allowed myself to even mention that i had been both molested and raped by the time i was 14.
Id tell myself that it was normal until i couldnt keep my baby. Everything came to a full stop then and pain started to build to a level of PTSD. I had reached broken. Shattered. Destroyed. And , most importantly Stuck. I wouldnt budge from there , despite a failed brutal marriage that gave me her two siblings. I divorced within 18 months of my youngest child being born. I was alone with my two beautiful kids by 30.
For the next two decades , i was the princess of my tiny house and my new loving husband , and i faked everything. That took so much out of me and having my mom move in with us for her health readons drove me to the breaking point.
I thought about suicide constantly after i turned 40. Everyone knew it , yet they couldnt help me. Ive always known i would have to save myself. Yet , it wasnt until this year that i had ONE day i wanted to live for me. Its not even April 2018 and i dont want to die. Believe it when someone tells you things change in the blink of an eye. It was as if someone ( G-d?) snapped their fingers and i was Alive.
Two , maybe three, big things had changed. I had started trauma therapy , i had started taking magic oil at night for pain and sleep and i suppose , i finally believed my lost daughter that Never was going to happen. She neither cared about me nor was ever going to meet me. My fairytale ending would never ever happen. I was also the closest to commiting suicide i had ever been.
My plan was set , i had every detail worked our and i even told people of it. Incase you are new to adoptionland , these feelings arent rare. I believe that many people were stunned i had made it to 50. I know i was. My kids were grown , and i decided that they would be much better without me and my constant failures around them. My mom had gone to assisted living so she wasnt an issue anymore. And , my sweet husband would be far better off than having a broken wife that was both chronically ill and depresed. The decades of trauma had destroyed my immune system and we both knew id never live to old age. Yay!
So , what changed and why do i want to live? Hmmmmmmmm. I crawled into the storm of the pain and let myself soak in it. I simmered and braised in agony. And , i discovered that there were things i wanted to do and see. Just for me. Not because there wasnt someone else to do it or because i was being forced. I made a choice to be happy. Insert the laughter of the hundreds that wrote and said it was a Choice! Bastards! How could they be so cruel? Didnt they know how hard i had fought to stay alive? But , they were just ahead of me. I hadnt ever tried to be happy , i acted like what i thought happy was. Two absolute different things.
If you are reading this and barely holding on by your fingertips , please stay. Its fine to keep screaming. Its okay if you plan it and dont follow through. I even challenge you to tell someone how much it fucking hurts. Tell me if you need to. Please dont be silent and go off without anyone knowing Every Single Reason Why. Because while holding on , you just might find yourself, too.
Just like Glinda , the witch of the North said , ” You’ve had the power all along my dear “. I just didnt know it. ❤️❤️❤️