A Child Broken:
I have been broken inside since I was a very small child. I don't know exactly at what age I began retreating into a fantasy land, but I do know why. I have an older brother who is seven years older than me. I also have a younger brother and a younger sister. My older brother is so much older than me that I don't remember him much. I didn't meet my father until I was 25 years old. My mother is paranoid schizophrenic. Living with my mother was hard. It was unpredictable. It was scary to me. She constantly yelled at people who weren't there or she thought that my little brother and I were "plotting against her". My mother didn't hug me and I did not hug her. Most of the time she stayed in her room. She sat on the edge of her bed, rocked and talked to herself. That is incredibly unsettling for a four year old to watch. I remember sitting just outside of her door and watching her rock for hours. It terrified me. She did come out into the rest of the house and do "normal" things. She would watch TV, cook for us, eat with us, talk to us but I was always on edge then. I never knew what would cause her to become upset and start yelling. To escape all of the chaos I began to daydream. In my daydreams I was in control. I had a mommy and a daddy who loved me and we lived beside a park. I was a princess in a castle. I was loved. I was safe. I was happy.
A Child Alone:
My grandmother used to pick me up and take me to spend a couple nights with her from the time I was about a year old. My uncle and step-aunt both lived with her. She didn't pick up my little brother much because he was so wild. My little sister wasn't born until I was five years old. I loved it there. There was no yelling. No chaos. It was just me, my Granny, my Uncle Tommy and my Aunt Marie. When my Granny would take me back home after a visit I would cry and cry. I remember begging her for the entire 30 minute ride not to take me home. One day I overheard my uncle telling my Granny that he wanted me to live with them. I latched onto that hope like a lifeline. She was hesitant because they were both approaching their later years in life. He was her oldest son. My uncle had no kids of his own and had fallen in love with me so he continued to push for her to let me live with them. This led me to make a plan. At four years old I made a decision. A decision to lie. I needed to get out. So I told my mother and my Granny that my pre-K teacher was being mean to me. They talked and it was agreed that I would finish pre-K with my Granny and then return. That was the last time my mother had full custody of me. I went back for summers, weekends and a few "you live with ME now" stays, but not permanently. I was finally in a place with no yelling, no freak-outs and with lots of hugs. However, there were no other children living with her. I was alone. So, the coping mechanism that I used at my mother's house became an interesting escape from boredom. I also learned to read at an early age and turned to books for relief. Relief from troubling memories and from the guilt of leaving my brother, and later sister, behind. Leaving them to deal with living with our mother. I had voluntarily made myself an only child. I had cut myself off from my siblings in a selfish move that gave me a safer environment. I would never experience a sibling relationship that comes from growing up TOGETHER. As time passed, I grew to envy the closeness that my younger brother and sister shared. I was an outsider. I didn't belong with them. I refused to confront or even acknowledge these feelings. I shoved them to the back along with the painful memories. I turned back to my daydreams and pretended that I was ok. I refused to trust counsellors. I didn't want to talk about everything hiding away in my head. Talking about it would make it real. If it was real, I would have to face it. I would have to confront emotional demons that I didn't think I could defeat.
An Adult Healing:
As an adult, I'm finally starting to emotionally "clean house". I still struggle to stay focused on the here and now. Daydreaming is something that my mind has become accustomed to doing. The difference is that now I have God with me to help me be the person He's called me to be. Helping me not to shrink off into a corner and shut out reality, but to rise up and fly. To embrace every day. The good and the bad. The past and the present. Now, I realize that God was there all along, waiting. Waiting for me to reach out to Him. When I was a child and hiding under a bed in fear, God was there. When I was a pre-teen and watching my Granny whither from cancer and die, God was there. When I was a teenager and so full of hurt and anger, God was there. And finally, two years ago, sitting in a church pew with my insides tied in knots, God was there. When I finally cried out for Him with tears running down my face, He said, "Finally. I've been waiting for you. Waiting to heal you, to comfort you, to hold you." And He is. In His way, in His time. I am healing.
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