Mother’s Day

This is a tough evening for me. “Mother’s Day Eve”.
Sadly, I know I am not alone so I wanted to send out an article written for Psychology Today that just might help.

“When Mothers Day Hurts”

And another.

“Not All Mothers Are Loving and Kind”

My heart goes out to each of you who feel this pain and absolutely breaks to know so many have suffered.

I also want to mention ALL mothers.
Perhaps you are a Mother yourself.
You might have been a Mother but lost your child.
Sadly there are also many who strive to become Mothers and just can’t.
Then there are those who choose not to become Mothers for all the right reasons. Kudos to you too!
And to Mothers who gave the biggest gift to a loving family through adoption or surrogacy.
Then there are those who are in mourning for the Mother they lost.
The foster children, the ones that fell through the cracks…
For those who had children but feel like it all got messed up even though you tried your very best.
And Mothers who are mentally ill. What a HUGE extra challenge.
Let’s not forget the pet Moms. You crazy creatures. 🙂
And to anyone who I have forgotten…
Do something special for yourself tomorrow and celebrate you just being the woman who you are. Sorry to the men, I’ll get to you on Fathers Day. 🙂

And to my children wherever they may roam, I love you more than you could ever imagine.

Hugs to you all!!!

Being human…

I started 2016 with high hopes. I was feeling good and felt strong. Then I spent over 2 months fighting off infections one after the next. I am normally quite healthy so to have 7 infections of various sorts in a row was very shocking. It finally ended and now I am back to my usual self. 🙂

Once I finally got better and stayed well, I decided it would be a good time to my art studio and a spare room painted. This endeavour is the only thing that really turned out since the beginning of 2016. Thank goodness for this!!!

And then April arrived.
My husband works seasonally at the only workplace available to people in our area. We live on the east coast of Newfoundland Canada and the only business here on the “north shore” is fishing. My husband worked on the wharf and the months that he spends at work are the ones that get us through the whole year. Of his 5 siblings that live here, 2 couples are retired and the other 3 all depend on the plant for their yearly income.
We were all ready to get back in to the swing of things and the crab plant was ready to run at full tilt… until it burnt down the day before everything was to really go wild for the summer. This means no work (or scrounging up a few hours wherever he can). It will devastate us financially until the plant is rebuilt in a year (best) or two (reasonable).

That alone was enough but then I found out that my hubby was sneaking smokes. I will not say a lot except to say that he has severe health issues that will only see him deteriorate with the smoking coming back in to his life. This causes me a great deal of stress because I love him and do not want to watch him to decline as he did before he quit. He almost died twice last year… it is scary.

Due to my therapist becoming a grandmother again, I did not see her for what should have been 3 weeks. It is now 4 weeks because the car broke down while trying to go see her this past Tuesday. IF next week works out, I will see her then. A full month of no therapy… seriously not at all good for my head space. 😦

The biggest issue this past week was even bigger to me because I was already so depleted and psychologically tired but that aside, I had a HUGE trigger this week that has just knocked me right over.
You may recall me speaking about my son Marcus and his death. I have not given a ton of details regarding his actual last moments except to say that they were horrific and caused by someone who should have loved him.
This week in my area (very rural – everyone knows everyone). A 5 year old girl was murdered by her father and then he set his house on fire to cover the crime. It is damn close to exactly what happened to Marcus and I have found this whole week triggering in a way that I have rarely been tested before.
The father had been charged with domestic violence 3 times yet the court dismissed the charges each time. Due to the fact that he had no record, he was given shared custody.
The mom did what she could to be heard but no one would listen.
And now her child is dead.
Trigger, trigger, trigger…

To add to those triggers, I was privately discussing the loss of Marcus when one of my Monster/mother’s friends interrupted to call me a liar. That just pi$$ed me right off and being seen as a liar is probably my biggest trigger. I know she is misinformed but it still sent me spiralling downhill at an even quicker speed.

These are the reasons why I was so quiet last week. I was just feeling so anxious, depressed, and triggered. I wanted to drink or just be done with this world and although I did neither one, the thoughts alone scare me plenty. I do not like it when these options begin to look like reasonable responses to the issues in my life.

I have also been feeling so very alone. In reality, I am not alone. I have my blog which is always a source of comfort in hard times, I have wonderful friends, I know good coping strategies now and life when I am more stable, looks really good.
Sadly none of this seems to be enough when things get really bad. I just feel terribly alone. I feel unlikable, unlovable, unworthy, and untrustworthy. I feel terribly unimportant. I do realize that my mind is playing tricks on me but it doesn’t seem to really matter in the moment.

Now the rebuilding begins. Self care, self-care and more self-care.  I have the skills to find my way out of this and I have supports to turn to but it is the actual action of doing it when my energy is so depleted.

I don’t write this to make you worry or feel badly for me. I write it because I can so often come across like I have everything together, that I am calm, capable and have my biggest storms behind me.
The truth? I have weathered many storms, I have managed to make huge changes in my life and I am proud of my accomplishments.
Some days really just “bite the big one” though and I am quickly reminded that I am human. Fallible, occasionally weak, messed up, and confused. So totally human.

Attachment

I never understood how attachment theories worked nor how they affected me personally. I just knew how I felt inside and felt this deep longing to belong somewhere in this world but no matter what I achieved or who cared for me, I still felt that ache just as strong as the day before. It was a deeply lonely feeling as though I was separate from every single other person around me.  I’ve heard others describe it as “being alone in a crowded room”.

About a year ago I had a conversation with a doctor who has taken a keen interest in attachment issues. He explained to me that a child attaching to its mother is not just a good thing, it is a biological need that MUST be met. It is not a want or a wish, it is a need.
In healthy infant development, the baby will attach to mom first for food and comfort. The father is usually the next attachment and then gradually over time after the age of about 6 months, that infant will gradually begin to expand his or her circle. If mom and dad have given the child everything they need, this attachment to others is a very natural process. Auntie Kate to visits the most regularly may be the first outside attachment perhaps Grandma and Grandpa are next. It will usually just be whomever the child sees the most often and has positive interactions with.

The trouble for neglected infants is that when the mother and/or father do not adequately bond with  or care for their baby, that infant will still have that biological need. Generally neglected infants do not have good support systems either. There might not be an Auntie Kate or a set of grandparents that either live close enough or perhaps care enough to be there on a very regular basis. Even if these people do try and do care, that infant is still going without. He or she needs mom for certain and in the best circumstances, dad too.

To explain the gravity of this situation… if this was to happen in the wild? The infant would die. In some ways this is also true for human beings.

If you watch this short video, it shows how a good and connected parent affects the child and then this same parent refuses to engage at all. Watch the difference in the child.

So what happens as these babies turn in to preschoolers, become school age, turn in to teenagers, and then become adults??? That unmet need is still there and it will never leave unless that need is met somehow. Some people will say they do not care what happens to their parents and that may be absolutely true but they will still hold that biologically unmet need within themselves.

Quite often these people seek out acceptance to a much greater degree than those with healthy upbringings. “Looking for love in all the wrong places” as the song goes. We can grow up, get in to deep relationships too young and sadly even accept abusive relationships easier than most people would because that need for a bond is so overwhelming.

I recall my thoughts after my first marriage crashed and burned… I realized that I had not chosen well or been picky enough. I had my children when I was not yet old enough  or fully equipped to handle them (I was married and in my 20’s but I really wasn’t equipped). I just wanted to be married and have children because I was desperate for a connection of my own. Sadly this rarely ends well so I got a divorce then swung to the other extreme where I need NO ONE for ANYTHING and totally shut myself off from anyone outside of my own children. That doesn’t end well either just in case you are thinking of trying it. 😉

So here I am at 46 years old and I know many others just like me who are even in their 60’s and yet they still wish for a unconsciously look for a mother to take care of them. We attach to others too quickly. We can force bonds which can often freak other people out. We can be seen as needy, sometimes even childish or many other varieties of “messed up”.
Please do not blame yourself if you see yourself in this situation. Your needs were not met and you are behaving as your mind feels that you need to in order to get that need met. It is not acceptable to continue this behaviour long term but do not berate yourself for needing something you couldn’t get.

I am not a professional on this in any way so I can’t give a laundry list of suggestions but perhaps even just being aware of your reactions and accepting them for what they are, an unmet need, could be helpful.
In my own life I am still in mourning for the things I never had but I am also getting healthier and being sure that my boundaries are as appropriate as possible.
A spouse is a spouse.
A therapist is a therapist.
A friend is a friend.
A sister or sister-in-law is a sister.
Those are the lines and attempting to put these people in a mothering or fatherly position holds our progress back. We will be once again seeking and not finding what we need and this can be devastating even if you are not totally aware of what you are doing.

The only true healing comes from beginning to give ourselves what we need. Starting to mother and/or father ourselves. Accept that there is that little girl or little boy in there that really needs to be shown true parental love. I will admit that I am still at the point where I feel like this just sucks and I shouldn’t have to be my own parent after everything else I’ve had to do for myself… but I know cognitively that this is where I need to go and I have started in some ways.
I just found this post and think it might be helpful to say to ourselves. Either this or something like it but we need to start to nurture that inner child.

My story.

It was suggested to me by a long time reader that allowing my story to be told might help reach others. I have hesitated doing this is the past because I just felt the details were not really important. That said? I do agree with this reader and have decided to share some of my story (minus the nitty-gritty) with you today. I do hope it helps you understand me better and I hope it reaches some of you so that you know that you are not alone in this fight for your survival.
I am going to leave my siblings out of this story because I do not feel it is fair to assume how they felt or what they went through personally. If there is a day that the ones still living wish to share with you? I’d happily post it.

Once upon a time, in a land far, far away, there was a princess.
Scratch that. This is no fairy tale. 😉

I was born at the beginning of 1970 in a winter storm. A fitting beginning for the life that would follow. A winter storm of sorts that lasted decades.
I was born to a family that was quite wealthy and had every available support to raise a child as easily as possible. From other family members, I have been told about how my father was thrilled by my birth but my mother hated me from day one. Probably long before day one in reality. I am sure she viewed her pregnancy as a real inconvenience.

My beginning could have been a good one but right from the very start of my life here on this earth, my mother would begin making choices that would seal my fate and my father would not do anything to stop her.
Their first decision? My name.
Heather was the name of a girl whom my father and mother hated. She’d chased my father around and my mother hated her for it. This is the person whom I was named after. Someone they hated.

I have a few memories of my early childhood but none are good. From 0-4, all I recall is being afraid. Many years ago my grandmothers both told me stories of how I was left in filth and ignored while my father was at work. I was also told that I would scream and beg others to take me with them as they left our house or begged babysitters to keep me. That is just not normal behaviour for a young child. Wanting to leave with anyone rather than staying home with their mother.

Starting at age 4, I was given a gift of new underwear for my birthday. Not the best gift for a 4-year-old but they were a tiny hint as to what that birthday would mean. I would be sold to men who liked little girls and my hair was cut so short that I also looked like a boy and could satisfy men who liked boys as well. This was not a rare occurrence. It was done as often as there was demand and there was ALWAYS a demand.

It was also around this time that I learned to mistrust what people said vs. what they actually did. My mother could be the sweetest, kindest, most gregarious person to anyone on the outside but then a monster behind closed doors. It was her perfect “outside face” that allowed others to believe that she was trying her best but that I was a child with some real issues. She convinced therapists, social workers, a child psychiatrist, doctors, teachers and strangers that the problem was set squarely on my own shoulders. I was the one who hurt myself and then lied with crazy stories to cover it all up. This lasted for my entire life with her. It still goes on to this day! She is perfect while I have mental illnesses.

There was a lot of sexual and physical abuse but even worse than that was the sadistic nature of the emotional abuse. I was made to believe that I was only sold to men (and some women) because I liked it and caused it to happen. If there were bruises or broken bones? I had obviously done something to deserve that. If I got ill. that was my fault too. That woman (my mother) made sure that my self-esteem was now only low but non-existent. I felt less than human and not truly worthy of any kindness. This is the part of her abuse that is the hardest to get over or heal from. I feel like I am worthy and then someone talks about me or doesn’t like me and I am plunged deeply right back in to feeling absolutely worthless. My brain knows that I am a good person, that I give a lot of myself to helping others, that I am smart, and have a lot going for me but my heart still says “You don’t deserve any of it and you are just as worthless as you always were”.

I did try to speak out and I tried to reach for help but these efforts were always met with my mothers wrath. I recall being made to eat a “poop” hot-dog in a bun. If I was going to spread “filthy lies”, I was going to eat filth as well. After a certain number of times where I reached out to ask for help and having that come back at me with a vengeance, I gave up. I still find it hard today to speak up about it because my automatic feeling that accompanies this openness is fear.

There are so many details and situations that I could discuss but I am sure you get the idea by now? It wasn’t just a hard life. It was a life filled with monsters that never hid under my bed. They just stayed out in the open and did as they wished with me as often as they wished it. I many ways this abuse started before I was born and still continues today. 46 years of situations and stories that would make your blood curdle.
If you read my list of Helpers from last week, there are a few more details of which Helpers came in to being and when/why.

I wish I could say that I grew up, moved away and never had to deal with my mother again but I moved 3,500kms to get away from her and 2 months later, she was living 1km down the street from me in her newly purchased home.
I have not spoken to her in over 11 years yet she still speaks about me in public to anyone who will lend her an ear. She tells them lies and makes me look horrible. We live in a very small community and there are many people who have never even met me whom hate me with passion. I’ve been called a liar, a bitch, a whore, a selfish daughter and worse by these people who just believe the words my mother shares. Supposed grownups and mostly “church friends” of my mothers. I really try hard not to let it bother me but she has even gotten to my own children and 2 of my husbands extended family members. The words said under hushed breaths make me want to just run away again and never look back… or just give up and leave this world altogether. It is hard not to taint the good that I have created in my life with that poison. I am only human. It is hard to be hated and even harder to be hated for something you never were.

Sadly it is not only my monster/mother that drags me down like this. My father takes part as well. He is quieter about it but when discussions of how my brother abused me surfaced, it was his voice on the other end of the phone calling me a sociopath. In my heart I know that he believes every word and knows the truth but he is unwilling to face it and it seems that hurting me instead is acceptable to him. I recently cut off all contact with him and I know it was necessary for my future mental health but I feel like a 46 years old orphan who never knew what it was like to have a mom or dad.

I’ve felt very lonely lately. I miss those whom have loved and seen die by suicide due to their PTSD. I ache for my murdered son. My heart has cement poured all over it while my living children find their way home. I really miss the nurse I felt close to while in hospital and the doctor whom I got to know before his sabbatical. Now my current therapist is retiring in a couple of months and I must say goodbye to her as well. I know these supports are not meant to be lifelong friendships and I am good with that but it doesn’t make missing them any easier. These people got me, they understood me, They believed me and truly heard me. They made me a better person. I am just tired and I am trying to find and keep my spark. I will find it again. I have faith in that.

I’ve had some comments about how I do not share negative stories on my blog but I feel that my intentions are perhaps a bit misunderstood. I do not keep things positive because I want people to think life is just all great and I am flying high. I keep it positive because I have dealt with and still deal with more negative in the run of a day that some people experience in a lifetime. By remaining positive myself, I feel like I am adding to the good in the world and that somehow negates some of the bad. It takes a lot of effort on a daily basis to live a good and positive life but I almost always feel that it is worth the effort.

This blog is very important to me. YOU are important to me. When someone says that they heard what they needed to hear or got what they needed to get because of a blog I wrote, it helps me add to the balance of positive in my life. Thank you for that.

If there is more you wish to know, just ask. If it is too personal to be on the blog, I will respond with a private email.
All the best to each of you. ❤

Hand drawn by Heather. For sale. $20
Buy an 8×10 “Be Gentle”

Helpers

What a week I’ve had here! How has yours been?
I have been very busy each day so I am grateful for a chance to sit down to write a blog and relax a bit. I hope you’ll enjoy sitting down for a bit while you read it.

I haven’t discussed the Helpers in quite some time because I’ve been going through a very uncertain time with them and felt it was time for that side of my life to be private for a while. I think we all needed it.

On Wednesday I was in to see my therapist and what a wacky session it was from my point of view. I’ll have to ask her how it was for her when I see her next week. I try very, very hard not to dissociate while there but at times it is impossible. Wednesday was just such a day. I arrived for my appointment feeling the anxiety of at least a dozen parts of myself. A man answered his phone in the waiting room and I nearly jumped out f my skin. Doesn’t everyone know that silence and complete stillness is a good thing? 😉

It wasn’t even just Wednesday. It’s been at least a week now of odd feelings and confusion that has not existed in a very long time. An urge to self harm, drink, drive off the road, say a hearty “F*** YOU” to anyone who was even looking at me. I guarantee you that these are not traits of mine alone. I know the Helpers that feel these ways and want these things. I do my best to give them what they need so that the destructive side of them will be calmed down and we can live life the way we have all chosen to live it. The trouble is that I am sometimes not in a good place to be giving much to them if I am having a hard time myself.
We have made it through the week without any “maladaptive” behaviours but I am quite frankly exhausted from holding it all back. Only 2 more really busy days and then a day off. A much-needed day off.

I have been working for the past few months to create some co-consciousness with my Helpers. If you are unfamiliar with that term (as I was until rather recently), co-consciousness is having awareness of another part and if all goes really well, working with that part/Helper to deal with issues together. It is not integration or becoming one. It is more like both being in the room at the same time. Some people seem to have this ability or skill right off the bat but for me? When my Helpers are out, I am not. I had no clue what they were up to. I am hoping that developing some co-consciousness will help us work together in a smoother fashion.

While at my appointment, my therapist seemed to know that it was not “Heather” who arrived at the appointment and she was partially right. I felt like I was there with a half-dozen others and all their feelings were all over the place. A little closer to the end of the appointment, she asked me how the little ones felt about her retirement in June. The adult Heather (me) has been taking it really well. Almost too well. When she asked how the little ones felt about it, I felt this overwhelming presence of the little ones. They did not take over but their obvious distress was felt full force by me. They/I began to cry and feel heartbroken. We were suddenly very little again. I felt them. Small, scared, heartbroken, wanting to be held and hugged, wanting a real mother, and such a huge amount of loss.

I take my therapy very seriously and I have promised myself to always be willing to go wherever I need to go for healing to take place. It does not matter how painful it is. I truly feel that things hurt more when left to fester inside and are worth the discomfort of allowing them to come out.
That said? On Wednesday? I wanted to beg my therapist to stop. It just hurt SO MUCH. I felt like I couldn’t possibly take it for even one more moment. I held on though and still feel like I was kicked in the gut.

I am sorry if todays blog is a bit disjointed but I am dealing with a lot of Helpers still today. Co-consciousness is my goal but getting there is going to be a very bumpy road. I’d actually love to hear from others who have either tried to develop this skill, already have it and how you control it, or those whom support others through it. Do you have any advice for me? Tips and tricks that could help me or others whom read my blog?

I really hope that you have a great weekend and I think that next week I am going to try to let a few of the Helpers lead the blog for that day. Who knows? It might even happen. *laugh*

As a parting note. For those of you whom are newer to my blog, I wanted to post the quote that gave me the inspiration to call my other parts “Helpers”. A positive quote and a positive connotation for my Helpers.

 

March 1st, 2016

I am here today to write a blog that has been living in my heart. No advice, no amusing quips, no cute pictures to post on Facebook…
This just me and a small yet gigantic part of who I am.
If you are having a hard day already, this blog might be better read at another time. There will be no details given but the topic is heavy.

March 1st is a day that haunts me. It is the day that I lost my son Marcus.
Let me take that back. I need to start using the right words.
It is the day my son was murdered.
This is the day that haunts my days and my dreams.
This day is not the reason why I developed DID (dissociative Identity Disorder), nor is it the day that caused my Complex PTSD. Those were already within me and caused by my childhood, but that said? This is the day that took what was left of my mental health and crushed it.

I never use the word “murdered”. It just sounds so horrible. It also starts the questions… Who? What? Where? When? Why? Was the person caught? Was she persecuted? Most people actually assume it was a “he” and I don’t bother to correct them. Admitting it was a “she” only opens up to more questions that are painful and downright impossible to answer. This person still lives free as a bird and although I have to believe for my own sanity that there is a deep down part in her that feels horribly about this, my intuition knows otherwise.
Under all the questions is my heart. A heart that is trying to grapple with the truth of that day. Not only the loss of my son but the loss of all belief that my world could ever be a good one. Trust died right then and there.

This day for me is not an easy one. I don’t normally ever talk about it to anyone but over the past 3 years, I have begun to take the shame and secrecy away from it all. I first had to learn that it was not my fault.
I think every mother feels total responsibility for their child and we protect them fiercely. How many saying are there about not getting between a mamma and her cubs? Even when there is absolutely nothing we can do to change or fix a situation, we still feel that somehow, we should have been able to. I did not only feel this to be true, I believed it with my whole heart. I seemed to have forgotten that I was just young and that I had no say AT ALL in what happened to me or my child. None.
And I was dealing with a monster willing to do unspeakable acts to protect her reputation from being tarnished in any way.

So today… for Marcus and for myself, I am taking down my walls and showing you my heart. A heart that feels very battered and bruised today.
I do not do this for sympathy. I do it because I know that others will understand. It may not be a murder. It could be any major trauma that lives within your heart. Besides Marcus and his story, there is physical, sexual, emotional, neglectful abuse that lives right alongside him. Anyone who harbours any of these issues within their heart will understand.
Compassionate and empathetic friends and family will try to feel it too.
I appreciate anyone who tries.
Most people do not/can not. 😦

For my son Marcus. With love. Your Mom.

A special love.

So, I should have sat down and wrote this yesterday or the day before because I knew how busy today would be… but I didn’t. And now I am so busy fussing over my new baby… fur baby… that I am not going to make this one very long. 😉

Here is my new fur baby. His name is Tonka (yes, like the bulldozers) and he is 6 weeks old today. He was born on my birthday and he is already 8 pounds. He is going to be a big boy. 🙂

We also have his aunt. She (Piper) is 16 months old and her brother “Bear” fathered Tonka. He looks so much like Piper, it is not at all difficult to see that they are related. Even the tongues both hang out slightly to the left.

So… 12 hours ago I was terrified and hardly excited about going to get him because my mind was telling me that Piper might not like him…

Or he wouldn’t take to me…

Thankfully all is well and he is just perfect in every way. He will always be perfect even when he isn’t… because we love him already.

I know that so many of you have dogs, cats, birds, lizards, fish, and I can’t even imagine what else but I know that you are in love as well. A special love that exists only between a pet and their owner(s).

I am certain most of you know this but they say that people who own pets are healthier, less stressed, less depressed, feel less lonely, and a whole slew of terrific benefits.   I know that in my life, it was a dog who saved my life. Literally.

I had this dog named Beanie Baby. A chubby beagle with big brown eyes. Beanie loved me as much as I loved her and when I was away, she’d wait at the top of the stairs for me to return. I used to work thousands of kilometers away for many months at a time and that dog needed to Skype with me daily just so that she would eat and drink.
When things were at their very worst and in my opinion, everyone would have been so much better off without me, that dog made me stay. I knew she would never understand and she’d wait at the top of those stairs while refusing to eat or drink until grief took her.

It sounds all wrong to me now because I know how devastated my friends and family would have been but at the time I couldn’t see that. My heart and mind told me I would be doing them a favour.
The dog however, would never understand and I could not do that to her. This is my sweet Beanie in her favourite place. The car.

Beanie Baby has been gone now for 7 months and her loss is still heartbreaking for me. I can not even look at pictures of her yet. I think that is why thinking about this new puppy was so hard. How could I love any dog like I loved Beanie?
Well… I can’t. It will never be the same but that is a good thing. Tonka will be his own kind of dog and I will love him for that.

And Molly “Dolly”. The dog that we had before Piper. My husband and Molly were deeply in love just as I was with Beanie. We were very blessed to have them both for the years that we did.

So to all those pets out there. Whether furry, finned, scaled or feathered…
Thank you for being in our lives.
Thank you for loving us like no one else can.
Thank you for enriching our lives and on occasion, even saving one.

Happy Monday everyone! Back to my 2 fur babies.

Paint how you feel, not how you think.

Earlier today, a fellow artist friend posted on Facebook about how she just couldn’t seem to lift herself out of a funk caused my her SAD (Seasonal Affective Disorder) which many people suffer from to different degrees. My reply to her was based on something that you, my blog followers have taught me over the past 2 years. I will edit my post here only to remove her name.

I know I already said a lot but you touched my heart with this post and as I sat here writing, I thought of something else. I write a mental health blog and almost all of my articles are about how to improve your life, take care of yourself better, get through hard times, grieving, positive thoughts and kindness. Then every once in awhile I am just so out of sorts that my blog ends up being about me and a rough time that I am having. I just end up throwing my guts on the page and paying I lose all my followers for it.
You know something though… those are the blogs that get the most response and are so often met with “I thought I was alone.”, “It is so nice to know someone else understands.”, “You have no idea how much I needed to hear this.”, I’ve even had some say that I saved their life because I showed that someone who looks like they have it all together can really fall apart.
It is in our most vulnerable that we touch someones heart. Perhaps you need to paint how you feel rather than paint what others expect. Maybe your paint needs to have a foggy, rainy, shitty day. Perhaps there are dark clouds and menacing looking skies. The houses might not look so bright and the boats may be nearly toppling over in stormy seas. Paint how you FEEL and not how you THINK.
I bet that you would really strike others in the heart and you could open a whole new style of painting.
Some days ARE beautiful, bright, green and gorgeous. Others aren’t. Why not do and sell both?
Love you bunches my friend and I am here for you. I’ve lived in those dark places for many years and I understand the struggles. I give you this advice based on what has worked in my own life.
Go ahead and paint how you feel. I’ll buy it.

It is YOU, my blog readers whom have taught me this lesson and I felt it was good not only to share this post with you but to also talk about the concept a wee bit more.

It is not only artists and writers that have these days. Red, orange, bright blue and green paint can symbolize any of our lives. There are days when everything is so beautiful and bright and then there are days when the blacks, browns and deep greys take over. That happy sunny yellow can suddenly turn to a gross murky baby poop green and our good mood is gone.
There are times in our lives where it may be much more than a day or a week, I had dark days for almost 2 decades before the sun shone on me again.
Very few people knew that about me though. I had the brightest smile and there was colour everywhere. Bright, cheerful, happy, fun colour. I used it to paint over the darkness that I felt and in the process, I found myself very alone because I did not allow others to see my struggle. I know many people that pull off an equally trustworthy and convincing ruse.

Who do we hurt when we hide our darkness? Ourselves? Well certainly ourselves but we hurt others as well. By not allowing our true colours to show, we do not often allow them to show their true colours either.
It is only when we allow others to see that our brightly painted and cheerful exterior actually has darkness behind it that we allow them to show their darkness too.

You’d think this would be depressing right? Actually is not.
Allowing others to see the real you and the real colours in your life at that time allows for others to feel heard and understood. This only benefits everyone around you. In my opinion, the ones that hush you and do not want to see your true colours are the ones that are still afraid of their own darkness.

It does not make you strong to be perfect or happy all the time. It takes far more strength to show others that you are not that way all the time. Rather than saying you are fine every single time someone asks, maybe a little truth wouldn’t hurt? I mean really, who is fine ALL the time?
And by being fine all the time? Who do you think will ever want to share their true feelings with you? They assume you could never understand a bad day. I rarely share anything real or under the surface with people whom never share with me.

So my friends…
Paint with yellows, bright blues, greens, reds and oranges on those bright, beautiful clear sky days and paint with those dark blues, deep purples, heavier shades of otherwise “perky” colours when the yucky days show themselves. Having both is not only human but it is what makes you real to others. It is also what turns you and your life in to a splendid rainbow for all of those around you to enjoy.

The Trauma Tree

Childhood trauma is often overlooked, greatly misunderstood and one of the most damaging things that can happen to a child. The effects will last a lifetime.

This is the issue that I want to bring up today. I believe this view needs to change in society. Not only for children now but for those of us that were children when we were affected by trauma. I believe that understanding this interrupted brain growth process will help us all be more compassionate to others and most importantly to ourselves.

One of the most maddening things I hear is that I was was too young to really remember the traumas that I experienced as an infant and toddler, therefore I should be fine. While on one hand, this is true. I can not accurately recall the exact details of the abuse, this view is still completely and utterly wrong, in fact it is the complete opposite. This tree is a great graphic to help me explain what I mean.

The roots represent the prenatal stage of growth.
Where the tree touches the ground is birth.
The trunk is infancy and early childhood.
The lower branches are childhood.
The upper branches are your teen years.
Adulthood is at the top branches.

If trauma occurs at any stage, the rest of the tree’s growth (which represents your forming brain) beyond that point is negatively affected. The older you are, the more life experiences and knowledge you have to cope and the brain is not actively forming as quickly. (ie. Abusing a toddler affects the entire tree from the trunk up. You end up with a tree build on a very insecure base. If the abuse happens as an adult, you have a good base and strong branches so you have some ability to cope better than a child would.)
Side note: I said cope “better”, not easier. ❤

Childhood trauma is often complex and can be catastrophic, leaving a lifetime of struggles in almost all facets of life. This is significantly true of trauma exposure during the prenatal and infancy stages (roots and trunk) when the brain is at its most critical and active phases of development. The younger a person is when exposed to trauma, the higher their risk of developing trauma related disorders including learning disorders, developmental disorders, cognitive deficits, attention issues, attachment disorders, and so much more.

Prenatal trauma is hard to understand so I have found some examples of how trauma can happen even while in the womb.

• a toxic or unwelcoming womb
• divorce or a bereaved parent
• a considered or attempted abortion
• being unwanted
• adoption (deep abandonment)
• a lack of resources
• twin loss
• drugs, alcohol and nicotine taken during pregnancy
• violence and other ongoing stresses.

A developing brain needs a healthy chemistry to develop properly. A brain that is developing while flooded with trauma induced chemicals (such as cortisol and adrenaline) fails to form healthy, strong connections.
Trauma at this stage will affect the formation of  the tree (your brain) at the roots. Every single part of that tree with be affected.

Birth trauma examples:

• life/death situations
• being born unusually quickly
• a very long labor
• adoption
• the cord around the neck or getting stuck
• being unwanted
• c-sections

I want to point out that these are examples of birth trauma but it is more about how these events were handled. Having a c-section that was planned will not be a trauma but a mother far in to her labour when an emergency arises and she is whisked off to have an emergency c-section can be if she does not have enough support through this process.
This trauma is like taking the new roots and putting them in unhealthy soil.

There are numerous ways a young child can be affected by trauma. Several examples include:

• sexual or physical abuse
• natural disaster (hurricane, earthquake, flood)
• car or plane crashes
• war
• witnessing a death, murder or suicide
• kidnapping
• rape
• shootings
• incest
• fires
• severe neglect
• violence in the home

This trauma is usually where some memory comes in to play. It is better understood by society how these events can be traumatic but often people will assume that the child is too young to remember. This is absolutely incorrect. The child may not recall details (who, what, when, where, why) but they will forever feel the trauma within their bodies and their minds even if they can not accurately place exactly what happened to them. Details are not needed to have proof of abuse.

I think abuse of teens and adults is more easily understood so I will skip on to the effects of trauma keeping in mind that the earlier the trauma began, the shakier the tree. Abuse of an adult may produce any of these symptoms but the treatment is based on a firmer base which can make it easier to treat or deal with. Having support around you is also incredibly important. An adult woman who is is violated can have no support or lots of support. This usually affects the outcome and persistent symptoms greatly.

Symptoms of trauma can include:

• Anxiety, terror
• Withdrawing from others
• Constantly being alert
• Re-enactment of situation with various objects
• Irritability
• Difficulty sleeping
• Lack of energy
• Inability to concentrate
• Amnesia
• Poor self-image
• Bedwetting (not only a childhood thing)
• Guilty feelings
• Showing signs of obsessive or compulsive behaviors
• Panic attacks
• Recurrent nightmares, flashbacks
• Shyness
• Avoidance of situations similar to the traumatic event
• Pain with or without an obvious cause
• Inability to give or receive proper love and affection
• Trust issues that vary from wariness to an absolute disbelief in anyone or anything

Sadly the list can be much longer but I felt those were the major touching points.

In the end, I hope this blog helps you be a bit more compassionate with yourself and/or with others who have been traumatized. Quite often trauma can stunt/slow/stop a persons emotional maturity at the point where the trauma took place. You might be 35-45-55-65+but trauma can leave you emotionally much younger. One therapist told me that I am about 400 years old intellectually but about 4 emotionally. I am still just learning the ropes. I agree and I do not see this as a putdown. With my background, it is great that I’ve reached 4.

With good therapy, a supportive environment, medications or supplements as needed and a boatload of self compassion, we can continue to find ways to build a more supportive tree. I like to picture building a beautiful stone wall around mine. Stone by stone, it gets taller and stronger. Yours can too.

My tree had DID so the rock wall takes a little longer to encompass my tree but it’s a process/project worth working for.

Emotional mumbo jumbo. Grief.

I wrote a post 2 weeks ago saying that I was feeling suicidal… a very hard post to write and I actually felt really badly for posting it because I like to be the one offering help, not the one showing a need for it. I am sure most of you understand that.

I had an appointment with my stellar therapist the following week and told her about the sudden crash, the reason for it and my shock that I seemed to crash so far down so quickly. I told her that I really felt like I was past that head space. Why would my brain just jump back to suicidal feelings so damned quickly after 3 years of working my arse off to heal and NOT think like that any longer?

Her answer surprised me. She said that “You don’t really sound suicidal to me although I understand that suicidal is what you hear and what you think you are feeling. I’d like to offer another opinion. I believe you are grieving.”

You could have knocked me over because she was right. I was not suicidal although that is exactly what it felt like. My “why bother to go on?” was far more of a grief response than anything else. When you lose someone in any way, it can be very hard to make sense of it all. Whether by death, distance or disagreement, loss can feel the same at times.
Why go on?
What’s the point?
Nothing will ever feel right again.
It’s too hard.
Life is too empty without him/her.
I can’t take it.
That sure all sounds suicidal doesn’t it? Grief takes us there faster than almost anything else and the next time that I feel that way, I hope I can stop to ask myself if I am truly suicidal or perhaps this is another burst of grief?

I was blessed in this life with 4 children. The first boy, Marcus is gone. Taken away by evil. I will never be able to forget him and I never wish to but his loss is not so close to the surface any longer. It bubbles up now and then but I am able to deal with it the best any parent deals with the loss of their child. It is not easy but shockingly, it is possible with a lot of time, usually therapy, and some really hard grieving.

Years later, I had 3 more children who are all young adults now. Over the past 15 months they have all decided to have nothing to do with me. They liked me before I got help. They did not like me afterwards. In their defence, it has been a HUGE change. I am truly not the same person who I was before I got real help 3 years ago. I left home for 4 months that year and returned to them in a whole new mind-space.  I’d never shared opinions, now I do. I’d never said no or wait. Now I do. I was very unhappy yet settled in the fact that they came first, my husband came second, the dogs came third, the house, bills, other pets, mowing the lawn, and ensuring that we always had toilet paper came next in various order depending on the day. I came after all of that. Dead last. This was not their fault. This was no ones fault except the people who raised me to believe that my own needs were supposed to be non-existent. I was supposed to function at peak capacity at all times but only for others. Never for myself.
This is not my children’s faults either because this is how I taught them to treat me. Then I went away, got help, and then came home with the knowledge that I needed to come first so that I could take better care of all those around me. Without being healthy myself, I could not really keep giving for much longer without a crash.
It is hard on children (and most adults) when someone in their life changes so drastically. Add in to the mix that my children were all teenagers when this big change occurred and disaster is not too difficult to find or  imagine.

A long story made a tad shorter is that they all have left and refuse to speak to me. I hope it will not last for many years but I can not wrap my brain around the idea that they will ever return. No one else in my life ever has. I will have to leave hopefulness for a big change in the hands of my husband and other who feel this is a temporary thing. To me? This is the end of our relationship. I can not convince myself otherwise.
I dearly hope to be proven wrong and I will be over-the-moon to admit it but in the meantime, all I feel is incredible grief.
I’ve lost all 4 of my children now and the pain is unbearable. I quite often do not know how on earth I will survive it but that is where the grieving process comes in. I think that my “suicidal feelings” 2 weeks ago were confused with the devastating acceptance that I have lost them. To lose one child was unbearable but losing my 3 living children is a pain that I can not even explain. I see light in my life but it has been dimmed since they left. I work hard to find that light each and every day but this is a loss that even the most emotionally stable person would struggle to maneuver.

This brings me to where I got the name for this blog. Emotions are tricky little buggers to figure out. Some people seem to really get it and they can even name their feelings while experiencing them. I do not really have that skill all figured out just yet. I have a few down pat and I continue to work on others but it isn’t easy to go from someone who forced herself to feel nothing to this new me that feels almost everything to some degree. Add in the fact that my Helpers also hold many of my emotions and do not allow me to feel them YET, and it gets even more confusing. I think I will end this blog here for today but I will talk more about emotions and how to recognize them in blogs to come.

In the meantime, I would like to thank all those who reached out to me during the time when I felt that I was truly doing a free-fall. Your support was a huge part of the reason for my much quicker turnaround.

I truly hope that none of you are grieving right now but if you are, please know that you are not alone. In that deep pit of “Why bother to go on?”, there are answers. You just have to wait a bit longer to get them. There is a reason why we are all still here.