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Archive for the ‘Infant Abuse’ Category

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Sunday, January 29, 2017.  I spend an infinitesimally small about of time perusing anything on facebook anymore, but occasionally I pop over there and scroll rapidly through posts to look for important life event news from family and friends.  After a comment I saw last night posted by one of this group my inner rage-o-meter is having a really hard time calming itself down.  Hence this post –

Someone made a comment about having recently made a trip from the American southwest (where they have mostly resided since birth) to a big Midwest city (during the nasty cold snowy days of January).  The comment stated that this person saw “many immigrants” there “who did not look” particularly “happy to be in America.”

So here’s a little news from my side of the white immigrant-ancestry family this person is a part of:

Somewhere back there in time, nobody knowing for certain when, a husband deeply concerned about his wife’s deepening grief and depression after having lost her much loved only brother to drowning at sea, brought this woman with him as immigrants to Prince Edward Island, Canada thinking this would provide enough solace to begin to repair this horrible grief.

Back there in time – on my mother’s mother’s side of the family, someone connected to this couple – as far as I can tell – found their way to America before the Revolution.  Only they were crown supporters through and through, so much so that they evidently marched their own way back north over the Canadian border (to rage, pout and throw stones?).

At what point in time my mother’s mother’s ancestors/relatives, all from the British Isles, decided to lower their personal flag of crown-dom to return south to the Boston area, nobody seems to know.

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Now my mother’s father’s side of the family was connected at least back around 1835-45, to immigrants of British and French origins who arrived in Halifax, Canada as members of the first Unitarian church of that nation.  Following that ancestry forward it is true that my father’s family came into the Boston area sometime after five of his siblings died of the flu around the 1880’s-90s.  A lot of grief followed that unhappy family into America, for sure.

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Then on my father’s side….  His mother, a British descendant white woman, was a member of the Daughter’s of the American Revolution, descended from ancestor Simone who was a record keeper involved in the line of provision to the revolutionists.  (There is no information about my father’s father’s side of the family – except in general that they were white immigrants from the British Isles.)

We do know that my father’s father died of alcoholism, as did my father’s brother and sister.  We do evidently know that part of the hatred Mother held against Father’s family had to do with old Crown vs Revolutionists hatreds so that Mother “made” Father disown his entire family.

Mother forbid Father from even attending his father’s funeral, a fact that contributed to my father’s deep grief until his last conscious breath.  (There was one dead live birth child in my father’s family, again no doubt contributing to family grief.)

My father also told me that his mother was “so depressed” that she never left her home except to do necessary shopping.

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Then we can move into disastrous family interactions that impacted descendants.  Mother’s mother divorced her husband in 1930 under enraged conditions, and it is known that she abused and neglected my mother, who in turn ended up becoming a psychotic madwoman who tortured and abused me from birth and for the next 18 years.

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This is nothing but the briefest sketch of the non-indigenous (to North America) trail of immigrant history in my family.  I also note that of the last 10 years of my life, six were spent living in Arizona with the American-Mexican border wall in my back yard as I was surrounded by the most fantastic people who were first generation Mexican immigrants into America.

Then most recently I lived three years in an apartment complex is Fargo, North Dakota 95%+ filled with refugees and immigrants.  Again, wonderful people who awed me with their polite kindness, tenacious spirit, their deep faith, their honest grief, their adaptive hopes in their new country, and their hard work in a very difficult climate area.

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Yeah, I suspect there are a whole lot of people in America who delight in throwing “first stones” from their proverbial glass houses.  I would rather not be one of those kinds of people.

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Here is my first book out in ebook format as it provides an outline of the conditions of my malevolent childhood.  Click here to view or purchase–

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

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Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

 

 

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Tuesday, December 22, 2015.  I feel I need to apologize for writing so few posts during these months of my tenure up north here in North Dakota, but I also know no apology is needed.  There are simply times and seasons of life.  At least now we have passed in this hemisphere into the time of growing day length.  I am happy for that although several months of winter still lie waiting ahead.

This winter has been very warm.  That is a good thing.  Yet it may also be a bad thing.  I am not one who knows about such things.  I am a wonderer.  (A wanderer, too, I must admit.)

I am into my third year away from my adopted Arizona-Mexican border land that was so kind to me for fourteen years.  I still have no real idea what lies ahead for me in my life.  Will I return there next September after my lease here is up?  Time.  It will tell.

Meanwhile I continue to battle with the noise from the apartment above me that is so unsettling to my so-sound-sensitive ears.  Things seem to be better – most of the time – and I have not yet had to call the police with a noise complaint as the apartment managers suggested that I do on November 9th.  It is not the children’s fault up there who are not put to bed before midnight and who are allowed to sleep until noon.

I have contacted Head Start to see if they will send me some information I can anonymously slip under the door up there.  It has been suggested that if a time approaches when my own well-being means a noise complaint must be made that I call social services first.  I don’t want to do that, either.

I do pray for myself – and for that family up there – and for the world – and for EVERYTHING!  Which brings me to the point of mentioning what has inspired me to finally attempt to place a few words on the blog this evening.

Someone on my Facebook feed posted this quote.  “Star of the West” was an early magazine published in the United States.  I don’t know how to access those to see if I could find the volume the following appeared in.

What I do know as a very high ACE score, terrible child abuse survivor for the first 18 years of my life, is that trauma seriously impacted every stage of my early development so that now I am a Trauma Altered Development person (my friend calls this being a tadpole).

This means that my nervous system/brain, stress response system, immune system, etc. is different – entirely different – than would have been the case if someone had intervened, stopped that abuse, rescued me and my siblings from our severely mentally ill psychotic mother.

This means – in regard to this quote I am posting – that very often it is impossible – IMPOSSIBLE for me – and for many ‘tadpoles’ like me – to “simply” change our “mood.”  We experience our life differently than other people do through absolutely NO FAULT of our own!!!

In my older age I am experiencing cumulative effects of the traumas in my life and am now “on disability” for them.  I cannot simply “forget the past” and “be OK.”  I cannot will myself to “be happy.”  I work every moment of my existence to endure – and endure some more – and endure….

Some moments and hours, some days, are better and easier than others are.  Being down south, as readers mostly know, was very much better for me than is being up here in an apartment, in a city, in this climate, etc.  I can’t get out to see friends, work in my garden, more etc!!!!!

So – here is the quote!!  This is what I do in every way I possibly can.  It includes why I came back up here, so that I could help my daughter and my little grandsons in any way that I can, especially now at this juncture in the family’s lifespan.

But – still – there is NOTHING easy about my life right now.  True, “things could be much worse,” but knowing that is no panacea for tadpole people!  THIS helps my heart!!  THIS feels realistic to me and within the realm of possibility!!

And – at this “holiday season” there can be many complications for people and for families!  I thought these words might be helpful to people who might be struggling with extra difficulties – realize they are NOT ALONE!!!!!  We care!!!

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Be not the slave of your moods, but their master.  But if you are so angry, so depressed and so sore that your spirit cannot find deliverance and peace even in prayer, then quickly go and give some pleasure to someone lowly, or to a guilty or innocent sufferer!  Sacrifice yourself, your talent, your time, your rest to another, to one who has to bear a heavier burden than you – and your unhappy mood will dissolve into a blessed, contented submission to God.” –

By Abdu’l-Baha, in Star of the West (sometime prior to 1921), a Baha’i publication

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Certainly an ongoing and repeating process!!

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Here is our first book out in ebook format.  Click here to view or purchase –

Story Without Words:  How Did Child Abuse Break My Mother?

It lists for $2.99 and can be read by Amazon Prime customers without charge.  A daring book – for daring readers – about a really tough subject.

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Leave a Comment »

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Tags: adult attachment disordersadult reactive attachment disorderanxiety disorders,borderline motherborderline personality disorderbrain developmentchild abuse,depression,derealizationdisorganized disoriented insecure attachment disorder,dissociation,dissociative identity disorderempathyinfant abusePosttraumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD),protective factorsPTSDresiliencyresiliency factorsrisk factorsshame

 

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