Trauma

Why is that I seem to have PTSD or CPTSD, rather, at this time of my life.

I thought I could handle things and ended up making a few dumb choices which impact me to this day.

I have all the hallmark signs but having an ILI personality I was able to lock the traumas into boxes, and never open them.

Little did I know that much of what I am is more than that personality type, definitely colored inside and outside by the horrids in my earlier life, and any traumatic anything the rest of my life is an incredible emotional rollercoaster.

My parents weren’t well matched. Arguments, and craziness on my Father’s side, horrendous wild maddening events from him, scary as anything. Four year old me remembers one event that shaped me.

An argument and the wild behavior of my Dad, sent my Mother running outside and she took my brother, and left me in the kitchen.

My Father came up to me and put me upside-down into the tall garbage can (which only had broken glass on the bottom) and left me there.

Did I get hurt? Physically no. Spiritually, yes, Neurologically, yes.

Before that, a major family trauma was my brother, he got hit by a car when I was two.

The garbage can incident cemented me as abandoned.

Years later, when I was Thirteen, my Dad was going to move us down to Florida. I begged them to let me stay with our neighbors, they had children, my best friend was my age, the middle child.

My Mother said no way. I saw her as ridiculous, treating me as an object, not in my best interest.

I loved school there in Pennsylvania. Because of my transfer I lost all good connections with school, that was a huge trauma to relocate to Hot Florida.

More and more wild behavior from my Dad through the Florida years, he died with some sort of dementia.

All those years taught me much, distrust of men, but I love men.

I need to do more about healing. This post only goes over some of it, for illustration. My life is riddled with stuff that shouldn’t have happened to a kid. Dysfunctional Family is what we were. Ugh.

(My mother was awkward. I know my Grandfather was gentle and my Grandmother was sharp and critical, rules. Lots of rules. Was it a dysfunctional family, I don’t know. My mother had a younger sister (The Golden Child) and a baby brother. They seemed OK. Maybe the kind of sister she had just pushed her into that awkwardness.)

Years later, married with Four children, my husband turned to drinking a lot and often, hello trauma central.

Not my family, please no!

It recently happened that he really came to the point of saying enough is enough, like he’d quit drinking. But he still is drinking beer, just not as much as often. It’s been said before that he would stop or slow down, but then didn’t. Time will tell.

Alcoholics need to stop. No More Alcohol.

At any rate, I seriously tried to stop that from continuing. Really, what was I thinking.