This is what Whitney sang from her new album last night at the AMAs. I thought it was really inspiring and was something (I might put on repeat when I am having a really hard time) I’d like to share with the survivor community.
Wishing you peace, safety, and that you find beauty in yourself today. <3, Joy
I was there when my mother dragged me down the street by my hair because I forgot my report card in the classroom.
I was there when she slammed my four year old body into the hard, unforgiving furniture soon after I had back surgery.
I was there when she extinguished cigarettes on my thighs.
I was there when she didn’t give me the amoxicillin during the week to cure one of my many childhood illnesses.
I was there when she neglected to feed me because she was anorexic, self-consumed, and otherwise mentally ill (NOS!).
I was there when I got the chicken pox and she went to the beach instead of caring for me.
I was there when she alternated beatings when I was 12 between the tv remote and telephone.
I was there when my 2 year old half-brother weighed a pound more than I did at 7 years old.
I was there when I blocked my faced when she beat me with objects and she told my grandparents I was hitting her.
**********
I could go on forever and a day on things that I was physically and emotionally “there for” when my mother had custody of me from birth to 8, and then again at 12 that are much darker and more painful in all ways than above. While I do have feelings about what she did, I don’t have feelings about her as an abuser. I seem to either have magically forgiven her or have dissociated away enough of the feelings to have an actual relationship with her.
She denies everything. She has conjured up lies to cover up what she did, why she lost custody, etc. “My father had more money”, “He had a better lawyer”, “They told so many lies”. “I went to boarding school,” seems to be her favorite excuse as to why I was not around during middle and high school. She’s not sorry. She honestly doesn’t think she did anything wrong. Every therapist and psychiatrist has excused her behavior because she “was under a lot of stress”, “was physically unwell”, “was molested by her two female cousins”, “my father was abusive to her” (they divorced when I was two), I could go on and on. If they saw her enough times, and/or diagnosed her with borderline personality disorder and/or held her accountable for her actions she would discontinue seeing them.
And yet, here I am in Las Vegas sitting beside her visiting her for 2 weeks. I am 27 years old and I have essentially ignored my mother’s abuse. I am aware of the reason I even allow her in my life. I know that she loves me. She came back into my life about a decade ago; when I no longer needed parenting (for the most part), of course. It was easier for her then. Perhaps she was never meant to be a parent. Some people are not. She was 28 years old when she gave birth, and therefore, the same age as me when she became pregnant with me. She had no maternal instinct. The hospital wouldn’t even release my full-term 2lb. 11oz. self to her when I was born. I was in the NICU for the first month of my life despite the fact that I was 37 weeks. I was that weight because she apparently thought that maintaining her figure was more important than the life in her belly, and therefore gained only 11lbs. during her pregnancy.
For some reason when she was ready to return to my life as a parent, I welcomed her with timid, but relatively open arms. I suppose it is because I would welcome any nurturing, as I had tried to do my entire childhood (and part of my adulthood!) from any adult who would give it. My mom was thoughtful, honest, and became my confidante. She believes what my grandfather and father did to me; and wishes she could take away my pain. She blames herself for not protecting me, and that is the one thing she holds herself accountable for. I needed a mother for almost two decades, but I was willing to take what I could get. When it came to safe, nurturing, parental love: I was NOT willing to look a gift horse in the mouth.
A portrait is being created for 100,000 hand-drawn dots, each one representing a rape/sexual abuse survivor. Check out the site to see the progress of the portrait and/or to add yourself as a dot in the portrait as a survivor or supporter.
**You’re invited to be part of a photo shoot this Friday in NYC.**
As per the TWLOHA twitter account: Due to weather, NYC photo shoot has been moved to Friday (11/13). The plan is 1:30pm at Washington Square Park. Meet at the Arch!! You must contact TWLOHA in order to get the release form (nyc@twloha.com).
Photo courtesy of TWLOHA Day 2009 via Facebook
To Write Love on Her Arms is a non-profit movement dedicated to presenting hope and finding help for people struggling with depression, addiction, self-injury and suicide. TWLOHA exists to encourage, inform, inspire and also to invest directly into treatment and recovery.
To Write Love On Her Arms Day (a week from today, Friday, November 13, 2009) is a day where anyone can write the words love on their arms, to support those who are fighting against depression and those who are trying to recovering. I participated in this movement last year and it had some phenomenal results. Please join in the fight, whether it’s for your own life, or a loved one’s. As for me, I do it for both.
Jamie Talks Woodie Awards from To Write Love on Her Arms. on Vimeo.
As a survivor, do you know what triggers you to be symptomatic, including but not limited to: what causes flashbacks for you, dissociation, s/h urges? I believe it is imperative to know your triggers and how to cope with them when we come across them in our daily lives. If you do know your list of triggers and are prepped with positive coping skills, what do you do when you are unexpectedly triggered?
I am writing to you from a very dark place write now. Though I know I am very compassionate and empathetic, I am not often triggered by hearing other people’s trauma stories, seeing abuse on television, etc. I have worked very hard to get to that place of emotional safety. However, sometimes out of nowhere, I feel a sneak attack where my emotional boundaries fall down and I’m left a pile of a person riddled with ptsd symptoms. The ground has been ripped out from underneath me and I’m a scared little girl all over again. I can’t breathe peacefully, I can’t think lucidly, and my body is remembering. All of a sudden I feel “trigger shy”, as though I have no idea where the flood of feelings and pain are coming from.
Please feel free to share your experience with triggers and how you cope with the symptoms that follow.
I would like to share that my best friend, Hope (see blogroll: Hopefortrauma), was featured in the October 2009 Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. I’m not that internet savvy yet that I can just put a link in, but I’m learning. Edit: 11/1/09, I learned how to link. Hope, congratulations on being selected to be featured in the Blog Carnival! I think it is a tremendous accomplishment, and I am so proud of you (all of you!)!!! Thank you for sharing your story and being an inspiration to so many others! You rock my socks!!
Trying some external, yet internal work =)
One of my teenage parts, 15, has a name, and gets to choose a lot of things I/we wear, do. She feels no pain other than physical pain, which she unfortunately likes. 16 carries the burden of many emotional flashbacks w 3 and myself. [Note: When you see a number, consider it an aspect of self at that age] The other evening, Hope (see blogroll: Hopefortrauma) suggested to 15 that perhaps she can help with 16’s burden. While 15 was opposed to sharing the pain, she was not opposed to supporting 16 through it. Since then, I have been working on communication between me and these two currently very active parts. 16 hurts so bad and never gets any of the pleasures of being a teenager, or a person. Therefore, 15 and I cordially invited her to enjoy Medieval Times today and be a princess for a day. 15 agreed to take a backseat, and I told 16 I’ll be there as much or as little as she needs me. We (16 and I) also hoolahooped to promote awareness re: sustainable resources, carbon footprint, and consuming LOCAL resources. 16 was shy, so I did most of the hoolahooping which I haven’t done in two decades. But we both had fun. http://twitter.com/ProtectYourJoy (#350) for tidbits on that experience and also information on carbon footprint and sustainable resources.
There is other work that 15 is doing with 16 so that 16 is not in so much pain alone, when I’m not grounded enough to help feel/get through, etc. the pain. I must say, I do feel absolutely insane doing so much work with my “aspects of self”, and switching three times the other night in a relatively short period of time had me knocked out for almost two days. Does anyone else experience an incredible need for sleep that is correlated to switching? And, as you work more to communicate, has that had an effect on your energy level?
Wishing you a peaceful night and safety. Over and out.
I am a medical student on a leave of absence from medical school so that I may begin my journey of recovery from Complex-PTSD (as a result of chronic repeated child abuse), Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID), and depression. I recently switched from another blog site and reposted my posts from there here. What you read may *TRIGGER* you, so please ensure you're in a safe space before, during, and after reading any of my posts. Please feel free to comment. I'd LOVE to hear what you have to say!! Thanks for visiting!
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 | Lola on Do you know your triggers… |
 | hopefortrauma on I was there (*Possible tr… |
| hopefortrauma on Working with my insiders |
| hopefortrauma on Sum of Her Parts |
