Healing the Wounds of Childhood

I had an odd childhood. My mother has had severe health issues, both mental and physical, all my life and was in and out of the hospital constantly till I was about 13. Her illnesses (she had a brain tumor when I was very small) caused her to be very irrational and my parents would fight constantly. They would often end with her running off into the woods screaming. I remember, when I was 2 all of us kids chasing after her trying to convince her to come back. My dad would order us home and tell us she'd come back when she was ready. Needless to say, I'm sure this had some sort of effect on me! I was very strange as a child. I had very poor impulse control and acted out whatever was on my mind with no thought to the consequenses. This did not sit well with my peers. They would shrink away from me as early as kindergarden, sensing I was somehow "different". I did not learn as fast as the rest and looking back I don't think it was my intelligence. I was really afraid of new things and was so sure I would mess up, I invariably did. My teachers would have to sit with me one-on-one to help me grasp whatever we were doing at that time. I don't know where this came from, but I remember feeling sick whenever a new activity would be announced. (For example we were suppposed to be lacing up this big boot for a project. I absolutley panicked and the teacher had to pull me aside and sit with me and go step by step so I could lace it properly. I don't know why this memory still bothers me!) This continued all the way through school. By 2nd grade, my peers were rejecting me utterly. I can understand why now, but not why my behavior was so odd. The teacher couldn't handle it and I was put in special education-ED for "emotionally disturbed". I remained in ED till 11th grade! They tried to mainstream me twice, but due to the fact that my differences upset my peers, I couldn't get along with them at all. 4th grade is when the real nightmare began. I was spit on, beat on, humiliated, and laughed at constantly. I was afraid to walk down the halls without the comforting presence of a teacher. 5th grade is when the "pity party" started. By then, I was beginning to feel a little bitter and angry. I acted out constantly in very dramatic ways. I had no problem telling "my life story" to anyone, whether they were intrested or not. My older brother was experiencing similar problems. He became rather violent and was institutionalized many times throughout my early childhood. The police would get called, he was on probation, he would be whisked off to another facitliy...ect. One day when I was in 7th grade he told my mother he was going to kill himself. He ran into the bedroom and while I watched swallowed his entire bottle of anti-depressants and showed the empty bottle to my mother. Again the police were called and he was rushed to the hosptial while the neighbors all watched in gory fascination. We were known as "the psycho family" on the block due to the fact that the fighting was often so loud. My parents fought over my brother constantly. Then my mother would have go back in the hosptial for whatever surgery she was having sometimes for many weeks. One time she went into this sort of catatonic depression where she stopped eating over a fist fight between my dad and my brother and had to have "shock treatments" (ECT). She lost a lot of her memory due to that.
I had no one to talk to. My parents were "therapy shy" after all my brother (and her) had gone through and my dad told me I would be spanked if I called my mother and talked to her about my problems. My sister was in college at this point. By 8th grade my lack of inhibitions had completely reversed to the other extreme. I was afraid of the other kids and afraid of doing anything. I was still in ED and also some regular classes and was humilated at having to carry a "point card" up to the teacher everyday for her to mark my behavior. I couldn't walk down the halls alone. I would get hit by someone while walking down the hall and called "ugly". I walked down another hall the same day and got a book thrown at my head for the same reason.
The bus in middle school was a horrible nightmare. The ENTIRE bus would throw spitballs at me, spit on me, and hit me on the head with books. Once, I almost fainted I was hit so hard. I told no one at home. Mom was in the hospital, my sister was in college, my brother was in residental care for troubled teens, and I figured my dad would just get angry. But the bitterness (not to mention my sense of the melo-dramatic) grew. I started rebelling at home and acting out at school. My acting out was different though. It was more dramatic self pity than anything. I would tell my ED teachers I wanted to die and started "experimenting" with self destructive ways. I also desperately wanted to be sick or injured and would fantasize about being critically ill all the time. I even told one of my teachers that I had been hit by a car and seriously injured! How weird is that?
One day, I had a fight with my parents, and my dad hit me with his belt. When he left I swallowed hydrogen peroxide. I don't think I was really trying to kill myself, it was more a cry for sympathy. Also, I would have done anything to get out of that school! I told everyone at school what I had done. They called my mom and forced her to take me to a counselor, who recommended inpatient. So my own hospitalizations begun. I did not have as many as my brother, because I was afraid of hurting my mother. Every time I had therapy, even out-patient, she would go into this brooding "depression" for days and complain about what a failure she was. I couldn't handle the silent treatment from her, so I stopped going. The only time I could get real treatment was if I did some sort of self-destructive act in public and my parents were forced to act. Of course my peers thought I was nuts. By this time, I no longer trusted anyone. In high school, I was so afraid of going to lunch, that I would hide out in the bathroom every day rather than go sit in the cafeteria. My attitude was a mixture of dramatic self-pity, and defensiveness. I lived in a fantasy world. I still had this morbid fascintion with being seriously ill. I also figured no one would like me, so I gave them reasons. I would tell them I was depressed, and suicidal, and all about being in the "psycho ward". blah, blah, blah. I began to put up a thick wall.
I can't get rid of these feelings and I am now 32. Of course I no longer tell people my life story or anything like that, but I don't LIKE to socialize now. If people at work get too friendly, I become almost physically uncomfortable and back off. I have no strong feelings for anyone (including my very loving husband) except my mother. Weird! I don't WANT to open myself up. I am now so afraid of getting hurt, that I don't allow myself to love. Seeing strong positive emotions (whether directed at me or someone else) always make me very uncomfortable. I feel guilty for being like this. I told my husband about it, but he insisted on marrying me anyway. I tried pushing him away before we were engaged and didn't speak to him for 6 months, but he persisted. I finally married him last November because I had an unpleasant thought of sitting in the nursing home all by myself in 40 years! I feel affection for my husband, but can't seem to allow myself to love him completely. When we make love, I feel absolutely nothing. I've already thought out how I would adjust if he were to leave me. I seem to spend a lot of time preparing myself for rejection. I would love to be able to open up and love someone deeply for the first time. Both my sibilings seem to have no trouble in that department. What is wrong with me?
Anyway, thanks for "listening". Sorry it was so long!
Jodie

Dear Jodie,

My goodness, your problems pale in comparison to what many of us have posted here?  Jodie, your childhood was a nightmare, and it's absolutely no wonder you've responded in the way you have throughout your life.

There's one thing I want to say first, besides, welcome to this community!  Several times throughout your post you refer to self-pity or melodrama.  I just want to say don't diminish your experience!  Those are judgment words, and yes, self-pity is something victims and survivors have to be aware of, but not at the expense of denying the anger that we have a right to feel or the grief at our very real losses.

I hope you realize that there is nothing melodramatic about being raised by obviously very dysfunctional parents, regardless of what the physical reasons may or may not have been concerning brain tumors or otherwise.  You experienced a great deal of pain and no place to find solace of comfort. 

Opening up to others will come as you open up to yourself.  May I suggest that you walk with compassion with yourself?  That you first get rid of any judgmental language or attitude towards yourself, that you allow yourself to be with your feelings or your numbness...that you allow yourself to experience who you are where you are with total acceptance.  No judgment.  That in and of itself is incredibly healing.  Whatever emotions arise, and they will, just commit yourself to sitting with them.  Greet each one as they arise...grief, rage, sorrow, fear...even ones that are diminishing, like self-pity or melodrama...no judgment...just greet them as an old friend, sit with that feeling and listen to what you say to yourself.

Don't be afraid to speak your truth...especially to yourself.  There is power in the telling.  As an adult, you can make sure that those you share this truth with are those who can honor it.  I would highly recommend finding a good counselor...shop around, check with women shelters or children's agencies for a list of recommended counselors that deal with childhood abuses, and then interview them until you find one you can work with. 

You need to take the steps to be nurturing to yourself in a way that you never received.  You have a right to love fully and freely...your husband, yes, but mostly yourself in a way that will allow you to love others and to allow your own gifts to unfold.

You are a survivor...you have a life force within you that is powerful and beautiful.  You owe it to yourself and to the world to experience and share it.

Jodi, I'm sorry to say that this board will close and become read only on June 21st...not my doing, but it's out of my hands.  It's an iVillage decision.

I did want you to know that both Leta and I are making ourselves available through email, so feel free to stay in touch that way if you like.  She has a post on alternative boards you might want to check out.  There are a lot of resources at iVillage.

Whatever you choose, I am glad you found us at this time, and I do hope for you the very best.  Considering everything you've gone through there's no doubt in my mind you have what it takes to initiate and participate in your own healing...indeed you already have.

Many blessings to you now and always,