Lipgloss

It's funny how I seem to have glossed things from my past over.  Convincing myself that they weren't as bad as they were.

A couple months ago I came across a journal that I had been writing to keep track of my son's behavior leading up to the arrest of his father.  Before reading it I could only remember a couple of symptoms of child abuse that he had.  After  reading it I realized he had all of them.  I didn't remember him wetting the bed and that the behavioral issues were pretty much every day.  And the things he said to me and my mother.

That and something else got me thinking of my own childhood.  How I would sit in my desk in grade 4 and try to will my heart to stop.  Screaming with no sound in the field by the playground.  When I was older: slashing my wrist every time the help line was busy, I think it was 6 times before anyone answered.  Having seizures of anger and thinking I was possessed by daemons.  Cutting myself to make it stop. Making tests for people that they didn't know they were taking and couldn't win.  I remember waiting for my dad to come and get me when I was in Ontario with him when I was 17.  If he came, I have to go and I didn't want to so he didn't know me and if he didn't come, he didn't love me. 

Reading that back I'm starting to feel sorry for the person I was.  I used to hate her, she was weak. Now I'm starting to see her as a little kid with so much pain and no outlet, no words and no one who would listen even if there were words.  I remember reading an exercise for people recovering from abuse where you picture your child self and imagine  your adult self loving and nurturing your child self.  I always thought that was really stupid but I think I might be able to do it now.