childhood trauma
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(continued from part 1) After the unholy trinity left, Mum and I were alone, isolated and the hunted. Completely cut off and ostracised by any family we had, (she was the divorced black sheep of the family and we literally had no support for anywhere- no hyperbole), under duress I learned that I had to Read more
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I’m not sure when I actually left my body – whether it was the racially abused 7 year old or the abruptly abandoned, devastated and heart-broken 14 year old living in fear. All I know is that somewhere along the line, I’d abandoned myself completely. From 14 onwards, I was emotionally and spiritually broken and Read more
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I’ve been wondering lately: is there a gift in my childhood trauma? Is there something beautiful in the bad, some sort of meaning that I need to find? Is there something to learn from my painful experiences to help me live differently, to mould and shape my life and make better choices? The questions arose Read more
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I’m wondering if anything has really changed or healed since I started this memoir a year ago….whether the little girl in me is unfrozen from time and released from the anguish she’s been trapped in for decades. I pondered last year when I started the blog: ‘I wonder where I’ll be a year from now”, Read more
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….a continuation (there’s too much to say…) The unholy trinity abandoned us knowing all of the dangers, without any warning, without a conversation; devoid of an explanation, without a care in the world. They were like sisters to me. I’d grown up with them from a baby. They were all I knew and I loved Read more
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I originally started this post on Sunday; it’s now Friday. In fact, I wrote it and published it in one fell swoop on Sunday night. But after I published there was a distinct uncomfortable feeling within me, a disjointedness, an awkwardness, a strange feeling of deep shame surrounding what I’d written. I don’t know why Read more
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I’ve been unable to write for over a week. And I’ve been reading too many novels. My creativity has felt crooked and crumpled down within me, concertinaed like a less-than-pretty origami shape that I didn’t know how to undo; I’ve been feeling like a tangled mess (like my split ends all mangled together) and I Read more
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A lot of people call themselves “big kids” don’t they? “I’m just a big kid”. I said it last night to someone at a new yoga-type class I went to. Big kid is a euphemism for adult child. Imagine saying that “yeah, I’m an adult child”. Doesn’t sound so cool does it? How many other Read more
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Yes I know: relationships are hard for most people at the best of times. But I really don’t think it’s the same playing field when you’ve had childhood trauma to contend with and a dysregulated, handicapped nervous system that wreaks havoc with day-to-day living (and imbedded, unconcious neediness), which has left me with a trail Read more
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My anxiety has a voice. It’s only very recently I’ve realised that it’s the voice of chronic anxiety (although I hate labels like that). It’s a negative voice by default constantly popping up in all kinds of scenarios warning me of some impending doom. But I don’t think it (meaning the voice) or me are Read more