Mommy Dearest

Since it seems there aren't an exorbitant amount of things related to my current mental state I do have answers for, let alone do I know if I am asking the proper questions to find appropriate answers.... Ive decided to approach those things that I am already able to answer with certainty. Process of elimination....right? 

Childhood.

Father=Not Present 

I was born to a woman with a severe mental illness, whom inflicted mass amounts of varying types and degrees of abuse as well as inflicted my first experience with betrayal bonds. She was raised in a two parent home, in fact my grandparents are still married today. A conversation I recently had with her Father, my grandfather, provided to me key information regarding her childhood mental state. At the early age of 11/12 he described how this young girl began to retreat to a place within herself, but had completely lost touch with humanity by around 16. Being that my grandparents still to this day have a different ideal of family values, of course nothing was done, not that Im sure there was anything that could have been. Regardless, of that this is the time in my Mother's life, based on her behaviors explained to me and shared with me by those that had been present to witness, had emerged as a Psychopath.

My Mother plowed through men like they were insignificant and replaceable, likely because to her they were. She was a physically attractive woman in many ways as well as seemingly pleasurable to share company  with. This never lasted long. My two younger sisters and I have attempted to count marriages, and our best attempt to utilize the information at hand leaves us in agreement at 10 marriages, with mutual agreement that we believe there were more informal unions that were so short lived there is no evidence available to us for verification.

Chances are mixing a psychopathic care-giver, with a parade of men, drugs, alcohol, and a general lack of all emotions, concern, and interest in children as a Mother, let alone human being, its likely that the fact my siblings and I are alive is considered a blessing in itself. There was no love from as early as my memories, and episodes have brought me. There was however emotional, sexual, and physical abuse paired with neglect, poor environments, drugs, and lack of nurturing. If it was negative, traumatic, awful, terrible or just plain wrong, I encountered it from a very early age.

By 3 years old I was forced to meet my own needs for survival. My grandmother had bought a toaster as a gift for me. A gift.... to enjoy toasted bread, rather than plain, when bread was available at all. I ate quite a bit of chocolate. It seemed sweets were plentiful at that time of her life. Looking back I am aware that it was a drug correlation, some users crave sweets. She was not only using but selling drugs.

There are memories of large men standing in a circle, crowding the area in front of my bedroom door as they passed money between themselves. Later I expressed hunger, was met with an excuse re: lack of funds, questioned the transactions I saw with my very eyes, and received nothing for dinner that evening. This was common. I have just a few memories in between this and age 6. Its a primary source of focus for possibly containing the key to my freedom. So many empty places devoid of memories, emotions, good or bad. However its concerning that I may be locking away something deeper than these random memories associated with this same early time period.

*Bad drug deal results in vivid detailed view of my dog hanging, dead, from the support beam for the awning over the front porch. Age 4.
*Destruction of magical childhood memories, like Santa Claus and Christmas morning. She said I was too naughty. This is significant to me. It signifies the disconnect she had for me. Age 4.
*Feeling of terror. I cant recall a physical punishment, nor the verbal words used but the look she had in her eyes, the proximity of her pointing finger, and the complete and utter fear that I felt was nothing short of intense. Age 5.
*Once again I have loss of audio, and physical interaction in this memory but she was mad and all I could do was try to catch my breath. I was in complete hysterics and hyperventilating to the point I felt imminent danger and fear for my life. Age 5.
*Chicken pox... she moved out of our apartment and left me until I was well past chance of contagious points. Her boyfriend at the time would make visits to ensure basic survival needs were met. Age 6.

I could go on and on. I think the idea has been presented, the things I do recall are definitely traumatic in their own right. I find myself asking with terror, what else?

At age 6, I became a big sister and again at age 9. I was the primary caregiver and nurturer for both girls for the majority of their lives. All needs during waking hours for my siblings were my responsibility. My mother was sure to provide the necessities, food, shelter, clothing, and rights to education until education brought speculation upon her for abuse, at which point we lost education.

*First recalled sexual abuse. Step Father. Age 8.
*Second recalled sexual abuse. Trusted family friend. Age 10/11

I could literally spend hours and hours recounting the things that I recalled prior to any acknowledgment of PTSD, blind spots in my memories, and who my Mother really was versus who I convinced myself she was. I like to tell myself that in this case, it is not what I do know but what I dont know that is causing a dissociation within me. Im still learning though.... so Ill let you know how that works out for me.

I went through so much as a child. Constant moving, lack of stability in many forms, betrayal of trust, Abandonment, Emotional Abuse, Sexual Abuse/Molestation, and lets not forget my psychopathic mother. Really... its difficult to imagine much more, Im not really all that thrilled about what lies ahead for me in terms of flashbacks. Im concerned that my heart can't handle the anxiety of something more intense. Intense enough to rip from me, scare into hiding, steal or possibly murder my soul.

There came a point where everything changed. My Mother was in a devastating car crash. She was no longer functioning independently for a very long time. There was periods of needing a wheel chair, showering, dressing, and caring for my Mothers needs as well as the needs of my siblings. My mother became increasingly abusive. This continued from age 14 until 16 when I left the home.

Dark deep depression was immediate due to guilt of leaving behind my sisters, who would later also leave and end up in my home, needing additional nurturing and care as if I were their Mother figure. There was much pain during this time of my life. A time when escaping the grips of abuse should have, in my mind, felt better than it did. Shame, remorse, and guilt were nothing new for me by this point as a person who seems to always doubt and devalue myself. I had been diagnosed and medicated for depression since the age of 8 with varying other diagnosis that my Mother found doctors to document. Clearly, I don't agree with this.

The most difficult part of childhood was the complete sense of helplessness. Countless reports accumulated along the years regarding abuse. School counselors, friends, police, human services, and many many other attempts to utilize a justice system that is supposed to help those in need failed on countless occasions, not once but multiple times over the course of our imprisonment with a psychopathic mother.

It was not until just two nights ago, ending yet another dissociation episode that I came to terms with a few things regarding my own story of survival. I was for a very long time convinced entirely that my Mother was different prior to her car accident. I believed in a idea that it was the car accident that damaged her. It was not..... was this important? Should this be part of my recovery?

So things were rough as a child but I do not understand what I am searching for yet. Ideas? Are you reading this? Is there any body out there?