A few random things about me! I have walked over hot coals. I hate wearing shoes – my feet feel claustrophobic. I’m like a naturist, but only with my feet! I don’t have wisdom teeth and often worry this means I have no wisdom. I met Princess Diana! At Cafe Royal, Piccadilly, London in 1992. Ever since I gave up smoking (nearly 7 years ago) I fantasise about still doing it. I imagine the action and sensation and the five minutes out of life and my mouth waters and I go all heady. Bread and butter pudding is my favourite dessert, even though I didn’t eat it until I was twenty. I thought it looked like sick, and I’ve been making up for the shortfall ever since. I sing all the time. Inside my head as I shop in Tesco’s, but at home I sing out loud. Many a neighbour has mentioned it- not always complimentary! But the songs I sing are all my own made up songs, I rarely sing anything by anyone else, even though I am not a professional song writer! I am terrified of big trucks. I saw that Steven Spielberg film where the huge honking truck relentlessly chases the moustached guy all over America, far too early and it’s effect has never left me. I love gossip. I love hearing it and reading it, but I can’t bear the thought of being gossiped about. I totally believe in the power of tree hugging. If I am close to a tree and by myself I will hug the tree. It is not something I understand so cannot explain and that is why I do it anonymously, but I am convinced it is something wonderfully beyond me, probably to do with the world being huge and me being small. I hope I do it more and more as the years go by. I am a mother to two boys. I am a survivor of childhood abuse. I hope Survivor Mum will address some of the challenges of being trying to be a good parent after childhood abuse. A bit about My Story
The flashbacks began in the hospital. Terrifying glimpses of my past warned me what was to come. By the time I took my week old son home they were all consuming, until every moment of new motherhood felt diseased. Torturous, violent memories of the abuse I had suffered as a baby and chil, trapped me inside walls of pain. But I couldn’t go back, not while I had this screaming newborn baby, he needed me here now. I had hoped this baby boy would be a full stop on my past, and the beginning of a normal happy life. Instead frightening questions needed to be answered urgently;
How can I be a good mother, when I don’t know what one is? Will I continue the chane of abuse and abuse my child the way I was abused? What do I have to offer a child? How can I respond properly to my baby’s needs, when I’ve never been taught? Who can I go to for help, when they all seem so normal? Am I messing this child up, to be just like me? Most poignantly if I loved this child, really loved him, shouldn’t I give him up to be loved by a proper mother? So began my search for information mums like me – mothers who had been abused but were desperate to break the chains of their past. Women who wanted to do the best for their children, but didn’t have a clue how to acheive it. Magazines rated the most comfortable pushchair or the best value cot and gave endless tips on successful breastfeeding, even advice on postnatal depression. Mummy blogs spoke of daily irritations when a recipe goes wrong or weaning problems. But nobody spoke about me, or women like me, who were just gripping on for dear life. I quickly came to realise that parenting books were’n written form me! They were written by normal mothers for normal mothers! Everything I came across reinforced my feelings of alienation, confirming my belief I was abnormal,I was wrong, I shouldn’t be trying to do this. Only ‘normal’ women should be mothers. I felt guilty and ashamed – I felt as I had as a child. He was three weeks old, they called it postnatal depression and I went into counselling.
”Trust the Process and Write everything down!” Was my counsellor’s mantra. So as the memories flooded back and often through blinding tears I scribbled and scribbled. Those early confused notes became the beginnings of my book about my abusive childhood- Orkney’s Devil Children. Although it would take a further six years to complete my story, the journey I’ve been on continues. Motherhood has been the biggest challenge of my life, one I regretted beginning, but not one I would ever change making. My dysfunctional childhood has wired me up differently and this has consequences, especially for my boys. I question everything. I often see danger where none exists. I sometimes punish too harshly, while at other times not harshly enough. With my childhood ringing in my ears I might overcompensate. While all of that is going on I still have the day to day demands of being a mother to two very active wonderful boys, and trying to overcome my childhood adversities to become my children’s inspiration.
