I slept better last night and I have woken on a slightly warmer and pleasant spring morning.
I have been thinking about how I miss my dad.
I always miss my dad, just some days more than others. Today this feeling was brought into focus by a post that I read on facebook. Other people miss their parents. And I feel for them. If you read this and you miss your parents please accept a ruddy great big virtual hug from me.
And this got me to thinking about family and events past. I have spent some time thinking about my maternal grandparents, who were a bit potty but at the same time wonderful fun. I remember going on the train to the seaside with my little bro, my mum and my gran. Buckets and spades! I remember going to stay on a static caravan park with my gran and brother. Freedom to run everywhere and play games on the grass! I remember staying down near the Dymchurch railway and going on the small trains. I still love those train, took my own son their when he was small with my parents. These are all happy care-free childhood memories, where it’s sunny a lot and grown-ups are huge and sometimes strange things. But you are safe with them.
But as I grew older I started to struggle with depression. When you think about it, this is an inevitable progression for an abuse survivor, especially an survivor that had blocked all memories of the abuse. I had no idea why I felt the pain that I felt. All I know is that it got worse each time it hit me.
I’ve said it before but having lost a dear and still much missed friend to suicide, I made a promise to my family and friends that I would not do that after the depression episode that hit when I was 20 years old. And I have, and I intend to continue keeping that promise. So when the next depression hit at the beginning of the 90’s I had more things in place to keep me safe. For sure one thing I do is learn. Being honest during those dark days keeping living was the hardest thing to do. The desire for that pain to stop was immense and I so wanted to run away from it all. I have a memory that I keep coming back to of a day when my mum rang me and asked me to go and visit my grandparents who lived very close to where I was living as my great uncle was visiting and staying with them. I said I would try and try I did. I succeeded and later that day my mum rang to see how I was. During those days I frequently did not answer the phone when people rang – that’s one of the things I do – it’s self isolating behaviour – it’s both a good and a bad thing. Anyway I answered the phone and spoke to her and in the course of the conversation I said that my gran had cried when I was there and I was perplexed by this. My mum said it was because my gran had not realised just how ill I had become. I think about this nowadays and realise how hard my parents worked to look after me during those times. That they had no idea why I was like that, why their beautiful, bright daughter would just disappear into a vacuum of darkness. Now I really feel for them. It must be so bewildering. I know it still is for my mum. And I feel for her.
But I am lucky to have people who care about and who totally believe in me and this has always provided me with the strength and determination to battle on and so battle on I did and eventually I came out of it.
I’ve said it before but I am going to say it again, what is happening with me now is simply a manifestation of the same problem. And I am feeling a lot better now but I am psychologically aware enough to know that if I just leave this it will happen again, and the next time It may well be even worse. So I went out of my way to fight my corner and obtain funding for the treatment that I require. To deal with this monster once and for all.
And so then I got to thinking about mean girls.
Mean girls. We all know them. Big sigh. For many they are just a sad fact of life, little more than a pesky gnat. But for me, they are a trigger. I have had counselling in the past to try to deal with this issue and it was identified that this is partly because there is a sense that people try to take things away from me and that they do this because they think that I get things easily. Well they are incorrect because I don’t get things easily, so I am immediately guarded about such perceived thinking and behaviour. I am guarded about a lot of things, its a survival technique. And for all my perceived openness, I tell you all as much as I want you to know and I keep the rest to myself.
But this morning I have made the connection as to why I find mean girls such a problem.
They share a personality trait that is present in paedophiles. And that is that they are extraordinarily manipulative.
They will frequently engage in furtive underhand passive-aggressive behaviour. Sometimes that behaviour is more visible than other times and some people are aware of it but at the same time others appear to be completely unaware that it is occurring right under their noses. And if you have been through something terrible that happened right underneath peoples noses, that they did not see, can you imagine what it feels like to be in the middle of that again at a later date? It creates stress, it feels over-whelming, nauseating and extremely anger provoking and then the fight and flight response kicks in. You either want to stand and fight or you want to run for the hills. And there is mope than one way to do either of those. Sometimes it just happens internally.
So. just making that connection has really helped. It’s another piece of the jigsaw back in place and the more pieces that are back in place, the clearer the picture. And I find I like a clear picture. You know what you are dealing with. And I make another promise, deal I intend to do.
Please keep contacting me, I am coming back to you all.
And please enjoy the lovely clear day people.