New Years Revelations

My mom lights a cigarette next to me at dinner. Easter, 1975

The first day of 2015 rises and I’m feeling divine. A door has opened within me after writing and actually publishing my declaration to healing and sharing the process yesterday on FB. I woke up today and immediately began writing with the type of abandon I haven't felt in years. The awful weight of the stress I've been carrying has been somewhat eased by my confession and I've decided to write a blog in order to share my thoughts and revelations. It was hard to out myself and publicly admit that I’m an adult survivor of child abuse. I’ve never disclosed such detail on social media and I felt a pit of anxiety every time I got an alert on my phone, worried that I had used the wrong tool to get my message across. But every response has been kind and supportive and those who are too hip and cool to care about the subject can use their free will and not read it. I won’t delete it although I really want to! I feel extremely vulnerable and don’t want people to think I’m fishing for attention. That’s not where I’m coming from with this story. This is no poor me tale to round up sympathy; this is a tale that needs to be told for the sake of those who cannot get it together, like I was, because of past trauma. This is also for the many who have not suffered severe abuse yet would like better insight to those who have and do.

I’m going to make it to the other side of myself. I even feel like I’ve done so much just by being brave and speaking out. Being stuck in the loop of an abusive past is a very lonely place...

I understand how we won’t let others get close, even though we truly desire genuine friendships and lovers. We sabotage our victories, thinking somewhere deep down we don’t deserve them. This voice is to address those in need of a reflection. We all feel like we’re the only one who is suffering while in the throes of sorrow’s depths. But we are not alone. Most people have been through some sort of serious trauma, i.e., a car accident, death of a loved one, natural disaster, rape. Some folks have gone through isolated incidents and some have gone through recurring situations; many suffer from PTSD. It’s been documented that when severe conditions and trauma happen to children, the PTSD is slightly different and has been dispersed into the body and memories in layers. That’s why it may take years of therapy and bodywork to fully remove the long term effects of recurring child trauma.

When you see “child abuse” you think of a cruel parent yelling obscenities at a child and beating them. That would be half of America’s dads, right? Most definitely mine. Lots of people had a shitty parent and went through child abuse in that form, on a recurring level. Sexual abuse is a big one. I’ve heard many sickening stories of it being the mother or father as the abuser, as well as uncles, aunts, the babysitter, grandpa. I have experienced sexual abuse from uncles and family friends from a very young age. Been there. Usually in the company of the neglectful parent who is too busy getting high with shady characters to notice that one of them is getting down with their child in the other room. I was the kid at the bar playing pool with drunk strangers as my mom perused the placed with her playmate for the evening. It took a few years for me to get that she was a lady of the night, an alcoholic and a serious drug addict. Hence, all the shady characters constantly around while she was, conversely, constantly absent (just in the other room taking care of business). Later she told me she did it to take care of me; that wasn’t a mind fuck or anything.

But really, who drags their kid along to the bar? It was the early 70’s so the whole PC thing wasn’t in the mix. Hell, my mom smoked cigarettes and weed in the car, with the windows rolled up. All the time. Drunk. She admitted I was conceived on LSD and I know for a fact she drank and smoked while i was in vitro. I never had a chance and yet I’ve made it so far. That’s why this story is important to tell. I'm making my way to a healthy place and so can anyone who wants to get to the other side of their suffering.

Neglect is a big deal, especially if your parents didn’t keep quality company. I’m honestly amazed things weren't worse; the situations my crazy mom had going on in our house. We would move two or three times a year, always running from one of her insane boyfriends, who I found out years later were actually her pimps. Which made sense because I always wondered why they were so mad at her. Why rip apart all of our furniture and and my stuffed toys? Because these guys were looking for their cut of the cash. She told me all about it in a drunken stupor several different times and then consistently denied it all when I brought it back to her sober. But knowing the truth helps me sort it out and get what I need to heal. For many years I thought I needed her to heal, too, in order to move into the light of day. The truth is that I only need myself and my conviction to heal. There is an abundance of assistance available in different forms and my mission is to offer my perspective and my process to all who need the strength and courage to do the same for themselves. 

Look within and you will never be without.