Into the Green Country: Surviving Child abuse and the Lessons I have Learned from it as a mother

I was born the oldest child in a very abusive home. By the time I was nine my parents had largely abandoned their parental responsibilities and I was left to fill in the void. On a daily basis I suffered physical, emotional, spiritual, and as I got older, financial abuse. And it had severe consequences as I found myself self medicating to deal with the horror I was going through. But that is a story for another time.

The amazing joy I experienced as I went through the healing process is a story for another time as well. This story is about motherhood. It is about the three things I have learned coming from a deeply abusive family as I try to raise my two little boys. And in essence it is about finding final peace as I allow my inner child to finally be.

Lesson #1: It’s Okay to play

This one was hard for me. I have been the acting adult in my family of origin since I was nine and as such I had little time for play. Before that, any attempt I made at creativity and imagination was met with mockery, ridicule and incessant teasing by members of my family. I hated doing any sort of imaginative play because I didn’t want to be made fun of. When I was little I thought I was so terrible that I didn’t even know how to play right. I numbed myself and locked that part of my soul away – until my first son was born.

It may seem a silly thing, but when something so basic to a child’s life, like pretend play, is taken from them and replaced with fear and humiliation it fundamentally damages a child. It leads to feelings of worthlessness and a fear of expression – at least I know it did with me. It takes the unabandoned joy of a child and turns it into shame. It leaves the child a partial creature.

After my first son was born I began to come to terms with my fear of pretend play. I was now in a loving relationship and a safe environment. My husband encouraged me to make up bedtime stories to tell our son every night. It was awkward in the beginning, but I quickly began to warm up to it. All three of us looked forward to those story times every night. I was finally beginning to feel free to be expressive in my creativity.

My son and I began playing with hand puppets and pretend food. We make forts and build with Legos and all the time I read stories to him. I read stories with expression. I read stories with made up voices. I read unafraid. After countless years I finally feel safe playing. My inner child can finally be.

Lesson #2: No matter how loud the voices are in your head, they are always wrong

Growing up I was constantly told that I was a wretch, that I was a terrible person. I was told that I was selfish and lazy, fat and ugly; that I didn’t deserve to get married and have children; that everyone would be happy if I would just die and I wish you were dead. I grew up believing that I was trash.

I’m here to say that words do hurt and some leave very deep scars. Do you know what it is like to have your family tell you for years that they wish you were dead? I was completely and utterly emotionally destroyed.

I believe this is one of the hardest things to heal from, because what you are told as a child becomes your inner dialogue. It is very hard to undo a firmly held belief that you have had since you were a small child. I believed I was a wretch because that was what I was always told. I believed I was fat because I was always compared to my anorexicly skinny cousins. I firmly believed I was incapable of being loved because that is what everyone’s words and actions said to me.

I am still fighting to overcome the voices in my head, but over the last few years they have faded and been replaced by the love and acceptance and joy that I thought that I would never have. It is amazing what the love and support of a wonderful man and the innocent love of two sweet little boys are able to do for a person.

Since I have become a mother I have discovered the profound truth that everything I had been told as a child was wrong. I am capable of being loved. I am a wonderful wife and mother. I am good enough. And where I may not be the prettiest creature in the world based on the world’s standard, I have an inner light that a number of people have commented on. So you know what? I really am quite a beautiful person.

I have begun to see myself through my husband’s and children’s eyes; and by doing that I have learned to love who I am and who I am becoming. I have found that by nature I am a gentle healer and a loving nurturer. I am an amazing, joyful and just really neat person.

Knowing the truth of the matter (that everything I had been told is wrong) has freed me on so many levels. I am not paralyzed by the horrors of my past. I am free to be my genuine self and by extension it has allowed me to become the mother I was always meant to be. Nobody is meant to be a prisoner of pain and despair. We are meant to be filled with joy and love and light.

Lesson #3: You need to allow yourself to mourn

I saved this one for last because this is the dearest to me. In so many ways I am still the frightened five year old cowering in the corner or hiding under my bed. Psychologists say that when a child grows up in a truly toxic family their emotional growth is usually halted at age five or six. That little girl longs to be heard, longs to be healed and longs to be let go. There comes a time where everyone who has been abused will have to rectify the horror with their inner child. That is something that I am coming to terms with right now as I raise my two little boys.

Over the last few years I have found myself reliving my childhood through my children. When I was pregnant with my first child I knew this would happen – how could it not? It is time for the little girl to finally be heard. Thankfully I have had the last ten years to understand flashbacks and learn how to deal with them.

When the first one hit I was surprised because it had come completely out of nowhere and was sparked by the simplest of things. (Which in essence is the description of a flashback, but that was the first time that my child had sparked one.) By this time I was intimately acquainted with flashbacks, but I wasn’t sure how to deal with them as a mother with small children. Do I push it aside and pretend everything is alright? Or do I embrace it and risk my children seeing mommy break down?

In the end I went for a middle ground – I gave myself naptime.

I have found that when things hit it is usually around naptime anyway, so that just works out great. And my older son has woken up from his nap and seen me crying sometimes, but it then becomes a lesson in compassion and understanding.

It is okay to allow yourself to mourn and grieve. I am not talking incessantly, but there comes a time where you need to let that inner child be heard. So many times I have found flashbacks taking me back to that lost little girl that was so scared and confused. As I love and accept my sons part of me asks, ‘Why was I never wanted?’ ‘Why was I never good enough?’ ‘What did I do to become the pariah?’

For years now I have found myself grasping to understand some of the things that have happened to me, and grieving that they happened in the first place - but then you need to let them go. Holding onto all of the pain and grief is just as damaging as numbing yourself to it. You need to face it, acknowledge it, grieve what happened to you, and then let go. (Prayer helps a lot with this) I find the process of going through this takes about an hour for me, and I feel so much the better afterwards.

As Gandalf says: “I will not say, do not weep, for not all tears are an evil.”

In fact, some tears are very healing.

by: Katie