Abuse Again y Abuso Infantil: Un Paseo por la Memoria
Most know me for my tackling of social issues. This can take a toll. Mucking around with whatâs wrong with the world can be horrific. I find things out I donât want to know. Yes, Ian Weinbergâthere is no justice. Youâre right, but that doesnât mean Iâll take that fact lying down. Iâll scream and holler until I have no breath left.
That said, I went on a journey of exploration recently. I suffered trauma as a child. My mother wanted to kill me, and my father, well, my father had other things in mind. When I let him know things wouldnât work out with me, he impregnated children from other families. I have siblings here and siblings there, and I donât even want to know their names. I donât blame themâI just donât want to know them.
So I went in search for my âtriggers.â Those are the things that make you jump or send shivers down your spine. I have many. As I tried to gently nestle myself into those memories, This blasted into my mind:
As a small child, I quickly learned that running and hiding from my mother was inevitably doomed to failure. She always found me and inflicted pain and fear. My life was always in danger. I donât think that was a conscious thought when I was little, but I believe my instincts were always geared towards survival. My mother was a danger to me. Â https://www.bebee.com/producer/@joyce-bowen/the-pursuit
When I learned running and hiding would not be successful, I began to keep my mother within earshot and eyeshot as much as possible. I glued myself to my aggressor. If I detected irritation or a mood change on her part, I sought to soothe her. This was not always successful, but it did help. There were simply times when she was going to exert all her power and control over me and hurt me.
As an adult, I started to follow this routeâseeking out aggressors I could, âkeep tabsâ on. I slowly learned to pay attention to the hairs rising on my arms and stay as far away as possible. I still have to negotiate this strategy with myself to this day. But it is not only with aggressors I employ this strategy, it is with all folks. I wait for a sign you could be a danger and murmur, âAhHahâ to myself.
Because of these things, I suffer from immeasurable anxiety and sometimes suffer from something called Dissociation. I sought help yesterday with progressive dissociation and reached out to a safe, quiet place where I had achieved success before. They wouldnât even tell me if they had a bed. When my doctor therapist called they wouldnât even tell him if they had a bed. They simply told him Iâd have to throw myself on the mercy of the system and hope for the best. (My words.) Maybeâjust maybeâif they had a bed at the time, The Wyman Center in Cambridge, MA would take me.
In Massachusetts, there are 2776 beds for a population of 6.812 million for mental discord, and many of them are in dangerous places. I was to put my life at risk to get âhelp.â I go through the gist of it in my post:Â https://www.bebee.com/producer/@joyce-bowen/insanity
I declined to embark on such a dangerous journey. I wanted help, not further damage. The day is here when choice has been shorn away, and power and control reign supreme.
Reminds me of when I was a kid.
So you see, I learned young there was no justice. I was probably about eight. That was about the time I realized no one would dare save me from my lunatic parentsâthat if anyone tried, they would become the target rather than me. Better me than them.
And when it came to goals and learning, my first goal was to reach a doorknob on a door leading to the outside. Â My second was death. Â My third was Catatonia so I could feel no more. Â (Death was too scary for an eight-year-old.) Â When I was finally too big to beat coupled with the fact my parents had bred out two younger siblings to take up my mother's time, I chose medicine.
I sought out help to heal from the ordeal of childhood and was introduced to a child predator who was a doctor. Â I had all the luck....
The time came when I learned my father was volunteering in a children's room in a small library up in Maine. Â I called the state police in Maine and alerted them as to his propensities.
"What do you know?" was the demand.
"I only know my father is up there and he has a taste for children. Â I am calling to alert you to that fact. Â I've done the best I could. Â I can sleep at night now." Click went the phone on my end. Â I heard they paid him a visit.
In fulminating through many social issues, I have found my story is often common to many. Â I don't always compare myself to those others, but I often do. Â My background in psychology and numbers tells me it is so.
Y en español
Abuso Infantil: Un Paseo por la Memoria
La mayorĂa me conoce por mi abordaje de asuntos sociales. Esto puede tomar un peaje. Mucking alrededor con quĂ© estĂĄ mal con el mundo puede ser horrible. EncontrĂ© cosas que no quiero saber. SĂ, Ian Weinberg, no hay justicia. Tienes razĂłn, pero eso no significa que me lleve ese hecho acostado. Voy a gritar y gritar hasta que no tengo la respiraciĂłn izquierda.
Dicho esto, me fui en un viaje de exploraciĂłn recientemente. SufrĂ un traumatismo cuando era niño. Mi madre querĂa matarme, y mi padre, bueno, mi padre tenĂa otras cosas en mente. Cuando le dije que las cosas no funcionaban conmigo, Ă©l impregnaba a los niños de otras familias. Tengo hermanos aquĂ y hermanos allĂ, y ni siquiera quiero saber sus nombres. No los culpo, simplemente no quiero conocerlos.
AsĂ que fui en busca de mis "disparadores". Esas son las cosas que te hacen saltar o enviar escalofrĂos por la columna vertebral. Tengo muchos. Mientras intentaba suavemente acurrucarme en esos recuerdos, Esto me invadiĂł la mente:
Como un niño pequeño, rĂĄpidamente aprendĂ que correr y esconderme de mi madre estaba inevitablemente condenado al fracaso. Ella siempre me encontraba e infligĂa dolor y miedo. Mi vida siempre estaba en peligro. No creo que haya sido un pensamiento consciente cuando era pequeño, pero creo que mis instintos siempre estaban orientados hacia la supervivencia. Mi madre era un peligro para mĂ. Https://www.bebee.com/producer/@joyce-bowen/the-pursuit
Cuando me enterĂ© de que correr y esconderme no tendrĂa Ă©xito, empecĂ© a mantener a mi madre al alcance de los ojos y al ojo lo mĂĄs posible. Me peguĂ© a mi agresor. Si detectara irritaciĂłn o un cambio de humor por su parte, tratĂ© de calmarla. Esto no siempre fue exitoso, pero sĂ ayudĂł. Hubo momentos en los que ella iba a ejercer todo su poder y control sobre mĂ y me lastimĂł.
Como un adulto, empecĂ© a seguir esta ruta-buscando a los agresores que podĂa, "mantener las pestañas". AprendĂ poco a poco a prestar atenciĂłn a los pelos que se levantaban sobre mis brazos y me mantenĂan lo mĂĄs lejos posible. TodavĂa tengo que negociar esta estrategia conmigo hasta el dĂa de hoy. Pero no es sĂłlo con los agresores que utilizo esta estrategia, es con todas las personas. Espero por una señal de que podrĂa ser un peligro y murmurar, "Ahhah" para mĂ.
Debido a estas cosas, sufro de ansiedad inconmensurable ya veces sufro de algo llamado DisociaciĂłn. BusquĂ© ayuda ayer con la disociaciĂłn progresiva y lleguĂ© a un lugar seguro y tranquilo donde habĂa alcanzado el Ă©xito antes. Ni siquiera me dijeron si tenĂan una cama. Cuando mi doctor terapeuta llamĂł ni siquiera le dijeron si tenĂan una cama. Simplemente le dijeron que tendrĂa que arrojarme a la merced del sistema y esperar lo mejor. (Mis palabras.) Tal vez-sĂłlo tal vez-si tenĂan una cama en ese momento, el Wyman Center en Cambridge, MA me llevarĂa.
En Massachusetts, hay 2776 camas para una población de 6.812 millones por discordia mental, y muchos de ellos estån en lugares peligrosos. Yo iba a poner mi vida en riesgo para obtener "ayuda". Voy a través de la esencia de la misma en mi post: https://www.bebee.com/producer/@joyce-bowen/insanity
Me rehusĂ© a emprender un viaje tan peligroso. QuerĂa ayuda, no mĂĄs daño. El dĂa estĂĄ aquĂ cuando la elecciĂłn ha sido desechada, y el poder y el control reinan supremos.
Me recuerda cuando era un niño.
AsĂ que usted ve, aprendĂ joven no habĂa justicia. Probablemente tenĂa unas ocho. Eso fue aproximadamente el momento en que me di cuenta de que nadie se atreverĂa a salvarme de mis padres locos, que si alguien intentaba, se convertirĂan en el blanco en lugar de mĂ. Mejor que ellos.
Y cuando se trataba de objetivos y aprendizaje, mi primer objetivo era llegar a un picaporte en una puerta que daba al exterior. Mi segundo fue la muerte. Mi tercera era Catatonia, asĂ que no podĂa sentir mĂĄs. (La muerte era demasiado aterradora para un niño de ocho años.) Cuando finalmente era demasiado grande para ganar junto con el hecho de que mis padres habĂan criado a dos hermanos menores para tomar el tiempo de mi madre, elegĂ la medicina.
Busqué ayuda para sanar de la prueba de la infancia y fue presentado a un niño depredador que era médico. Tuve toda la suerte
LlegĂł el momento en que supe que mi padre se ofrecĂa como voluntario en un cuarto para niños en una pequeña biblioteca en Maine. LlamĂ© a la policĂa estatal de Maine y les avisĂ© de sus propensiones.
"ÂżQue sabes?" Fue la demanda.
"SĂłlo sĂ© que mi padre estĂĄ allĂĄ arriba y tiene un gusto por los niños, estoy llamando para alertarte de eso, he hecho lo mejor que pude, puedo dormir por la noche ahora". Click fue el telĂ©fono en mi final. He oĂdo que le hicieron una visita.
Al fulminar a travĂ©s de muchos asuntos sociales, he encontrado que mi historia es comĂșn a muchos. No siempre me comparo a los otros, pero a menudo lo hago. Mi experiencia en psicologĂa y nĂșmeros me dice que es asĂ.
Copyright 2017 Joyce Bowen
https://www.linkedin.com/in/joyce-bowen/
https://twitter.com/crwriter1
https://joycebowen.wordpress.com/author/joycebowen/
https://medium.com/@joycebowen
Sobre el autor: Joyce Bowen es un escritor independiente y orador pĂșblico. Las consultas pueden hacerse en crwriter@comcast.net
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Comments
Lisa Gallagher
6 years ago #13
That's a good point you brought up Nicole Chardenet. My mom's dad threw her real mother down the stairs in the 50's, her mom had amnesia and was sent to a State Mental Facility back then. While there, she was pregnant, had a still born at 9 mos and developed Pneumonia afterwards. She needed moved to a real hospital for treatment but my grandfather ran off. His own family even put a big plea in the newspaper asking for help to find him. Only HE COULD have my mom's real mom transferred back then. My mom's real mother died in the Mental Health facility b/c of lack of treatment. The premise of the above story, my mother was sent to live with her Grandparents in Florida while he was MIA. She was with them from 18 mos old to 4 yrs old and her good memories were always of them, always. So, I assume they had a major impact early on. He showed up at their door with his 'new wife' mom had never met, took her and left. He ran off and joined the Military and that's why no one could find him. He wouldn't get away w/that today. Her grandparents must have really set a good foundation for her during her formative years.
Pascal Derrien
6 years ago #12
Joyce đ Bowen Brand Ambassador @ beBee
6 years ago #11
Your mother must have been a source of great strength for you, Lisa \ud83d\udc1d Gallagher for the shares.
Lisa Gallagher
6 years ago #10
Joyce đ Bowen Brand Ambassador @ beBee
6 years ago #9
I think Ian does loads, too. Thanks for this opportunity to formulate my thoughts, Ian Weinberg
Joyce đ Bowen Brand Ambassador @ beBee
6 years ago #8
Joyce đ Bowen Brand Ambassador @ beBee
6 years ago #7
Cyndi wilkins
6 years ago #6
Joyce đ Bowen Brand Ambassador @ beBee
6 years ago #5
I hear you, Ian Weinberg. You have your craft to attend to. I have mine. :)
Joyce đ Bowen Brand Ambassador @ beBee
6 years ago #4
Thank you, Nicole Chardenet
Joyce đ Bowen Brand Ambassador @ beBee
6 years ago #3
Sad, indeed, Robert Cormack. With five children dying of this kind of abuse to this and every day, it's sadder still.
Ian Weinberg
6 years ago #2
Robert Cormack
6 years ago #1