No Mercy

TRIGGER WARNING- CHILD ABUSE & TALK OF ADDICTION

This is one of the trauma patterns that set the tone for the rest of my life and has replayed itself over and over again in adolescence and adulthood.

Once upon a time I was 7, a young girl. Just like the two beautiful girls in the attached image.

Undiagnosed ADHD but already diagnosed as dyslexic. Did you know that about me? 🙂

I “lied” to my mother about something or another. She viewed it as a purposeful act and told my father.

I had apparently done this more than once as a young child. And judging from my experience of motherhood it’s the same thing all young children do. Or they weren’t understanding me due to my neurological differences.

In any case, my father decided he had enough of me purposely lying to my mother. So that hot summer day I was berated and screamed at by the most important man in my life. Mostly because I wasn’t understood and couldn’t explain myself properly due to above brain differences. Which by the way could have been contributed to by the drugs my mother admittedly did for the first 3 months of her pregnancy before she knew she was pregnant.

I digress.

So anyway, there I am in the kitchen of our apartment with a 6’4, 300lb man screaming at me, shaming me for lying again and telling me he’s going to “fix my ass.”

Well there I stood as he made a cardboard sandwich board sign for me to wear. The sign read, “I lie to my mother. I am a liar, do not trust me.”

My father then brought me downstairs, loaded me into the back of his pick-up truck and drove me around town and to our local K-Mart. He marched me into the store, pointed his finger in my face and told me I will walk around that store repeating out loud to the strangers what that sign said. Frozen in fear I just stared at him and said, OK.

I walked with him around that store repeating, I am a liar, do not trust me. I don’t remember much beyond seeing the first stranger and walking the front of the store because I definitely disassociated from myself and what was going on. Nor do I remember the ride back home.

However, once home I surely remember being made to walk around in a circle in the middle of my living room, repeating the sign out loud while he and my mother watched. It was made to be some kind of amends to my mother from him. Like he was some prideful cat that brought its owner a dead mouse. Looking back, it was so gross and she just sat there and watched but I can remember her face and the pity she had for me. Her face looked like she was saying, “I’m sorry for telling him.” But she didn’t do anything but watch. Which certainly sent me a huge message. I’ll save that for another day because she isn’t off the hook either. Remember how she was doing drugs with me and *could* have contributed to this problem? We will never know for sure one way or the other and pinning it entirely on her may not be fair but it certainly wasn’t my fault and it was her job to protect me as well.

However, he had so much ego (my father) for nothing and he could be scary. I mean what a joke to have so much ego for a 7 year old child. He looks like a real dipshit when I reflect back on it. If you take into account the amount of time that passed from the original event. For him to remain that angry for that long, he was certainly disordered in some way. I will gladly share more memories to drive this point home if this recalling hasn’t convinced you.

The most ironic part of all of this? At this stage of my life my parents were lying to me by hiding their drug addictions.

My mother had been arrested for felonies related to writing bad checks and she proceeded to spend the rest of my childhood lying to me to coax money out of me once I started working. Which was at 14 by the way.

Those that have told me that my parents did the best they could, they have no idea the things I truly endured. And most didn’t know about the drug addiction until after both of my parents died and I started drip-feeding that info out.

I have to disagree. My parents did NOT do the best they could.

The hellish chapter of my life called childhood that my developing brain was formed in- damaged me, my kids, made relationships hard, kept me from career success, left me feeling misunderstood and isolated in so many ways.

Yes, there were several good memories sprinkled in but there were not enough to counterbalance the damage done to me. If you didn’t know what was truly going on you would have only seen the good stuff. I do understand the view of others looking in but perspective is everything.

My perspective is, I was shown no mercy in the first 20 years of my life and it has taken me another 20+ years and thousands spent on trauma therapy in order to become a successful adult that is (mostly) free from the shame of my story. Free enough to openly share it.

I will continue to share my story because I deserve to be heard and so does anyone else who is walking around with their own secret stories that weigh them down in shame.

When I look back on that day, I fully realize now that “lie” had something to do with my dyslexia and communication differences. Something I still heavily struggle with today. My dyslexia affects how I communicate, write, read, and is also the reason for my brilliant problem solving skills and ability to see patterns many others can’t see. I have many adaptations to counterbalance the challenges but even just writing this blog took me forever. ( and I’m sure I still have grammar mistakes)

To wrap this up, my father who was once a boy who was abused and abandoned, was so wrapped up in making his wife happy by “defending” her from the 7 year old that “lied” to her.

Yet, he couldn’t see the child (his own child) that simply needed help communicating.

Look, I’m a badass survivor because I wasn’t shown mercy. Not because I wanted to be.

Let’s try to stop romanticizing the strength of those with childhood trauma and perhaps show the mercy they weren’t given as children by hearing and believing their stories. Because some of the shit is truly unbelievable to have LIVED firsthand.

Until next time, friends… Remember the saying that goes, “hurt people, hurt people”. See where you hurt first before you hurt others..

We can all do better. Understanding is free and we all deserve love.

<3-Jess