My parent’s fail

*language

After learning that my doctor in England doesn’t think he can search any longer for the mutation that has caused my disease, I went to all of my saved emails. I deleted every correspondence from the last 11 years with him. Hundreds of saved emails pondering, hoping, trying. Since, in 11 years I am no closer to an answer, I deleted them all. Chapter closed. Future of this muscle disease and finding out what is wrong with my daughter marked :unknown.

While there in my “Doctor emails” I discovered a few other emails that got saved in that file. One was from Mikell who I loved dearly. Later in life he sent me a poem that he had written for me dated march 1989. I met him in a mental hospital after trying to take my own life. I looked at that date and proceeded to stay up the rest of the night with my mouth hanging open.

I was only 16 years old. I turned 17 the next month. Putting together the time line of my life has been hard but as pieces keep fitting together and I see the full puzzle it brings up emotions that I have to come to terms with, accept, and move past. Right now, since last night, I am furious.

My social security records, that I found during the burning of my medical records, old photos, baby book, the past, etc, said that I went to my job in Indiana in 1989.

So let me get this straight…I tried to kill myself based on years of abuse that no one cared about and my parents allowed my brother to continue to be around this man. I was then put in a mental hospital where I met Mikell who I fell in love with and he wrote me a lovely poem. Then, my parents felt, it was ok to send me off to Indiana to waterski for the summer? They weren’t there. My “twin” brother was there. That was the year I was picked up at the airport by “The manager” which if you search my blog for that title you will learn all about him. Anyway, my parents felt it was in my best interest to send me to a mental hospital, then send me away to another state without them for a summer. What on earth?!!!! It is no wonder I quit school,, got my GED, went to live in my car in the parking lot of seaworld while my mother had her newest fuck buddy to keep her focus on. Not caring that while looking out my bedroom window was a child molester still free right across that lake.

I am constantly trying to grasp the magnitude of what happened to me in its entirety but I get fragments and put them together to see why I am struggling now. I am understanding myself more and more as I piece together the past. I blocked out so much due to dissociation and PTSD.

I was only 16 years old. I turned 17 and it was OK for me to be sent away to work? Oh my parents will tell you that I loved waterskiing and I was just living my dream.

Yes, this is when parenting comes into play. Be a fucking parent!!!!! Was it important for my brother to keep skiing with a child molester to live his dream. At 16? And me living a dream at 16 to ski in a professional ski show? Was that more important than stopping LIFE until they made sure their daughter felt safe,, protected, recovered? Be a fucking parent for fuck’s sake! My parents did not know how to be parents. As many parents do not and yet they find a way to help their daughter feel loved and feel like she mattered after tragedy struck.

I shake my head as I write this. Over and over again I shake my head.

My parents failed on so many levels. We are talking like parking garage levels 1-10 and they created a basement floor on the levels of bad parenting. Basement parenting. That is what they did.

The anger at my parents, I felt came from their leaving 3 years ago in the midst of my daughter’s illness, my muscle disease, at the truth of the extent of the abuse and my life and their inability to handle that truth. I thought I was angry at their inaction, their running away, their denial. I didn’t realize as a teenager their decisions and how bad they were. A 45 year old I can clearly see that they contributed to where I am right now and that makes me sick.

A pastor tried to help me, that was denied due to my father’s own secrets (so I was told).

My parents let my brother keep waterskiing with the man who had molested me for years.

My parents sent me to ski in another state with no supervision or protection at 16 years old RIGHT after getting out of mental hospital and attempted suicide.

No wonder they ran off as soon as I called them on their bullshit in my letter. They had to face what shit job they did as parents.

Out of the millions of options they had to help their daughter, they chose none. They chose 1. Ignore. 2. Not validate 3. Blame 4. Abandon 5. Deny 6. Tell no one that could have helped, lie to their friends 7. Turn away someone who could have helped me 8. Put me in situation after situation with adult men, unprotected. Just read my past blog posts over the years.

And I have wondered for most of my life why I could just not recover!

I put the blame on the abusers.

But my parents…they could have been present. They could have tried, and tried, and tried some more. Even now.. three years ago I guess I gave them an out. They got to choose a letter as a reason to end THEIR NEGLECT and shit parenting. But made sure they blamed me, accused me,, on the way out..

My “twin” just stopped talking to me. My older brother blamed me for purposely hurting our mother. That brother that my mother put up for adoption who she won’t even claim to others as her real son!!!! But I am the one who hurt my mother? No. my mother hurt herself.

At least I own up to my own shit. I know the level I am fucked up. I don’t pretend to anyone that I am ok. I can tell you that I stayed up all night long because my husband is gone. I have worries of him coming home with a thousand smells that will trigger PTSD. I know this will happen so it is a realistic anxiety. I sleep when he is here because I feel safe. When he is gone I don’t feel safe for my daughter or me. That vulnerability brings on and triggers PTSD all by itself.

I wonder fucking why!!!!

So will I blame my parents my whole life? Use them as a crutch to not get better and move forward? Oh hell yes I will blame them for the rest of my life. I despise their existence for what they have done. Will I let it stop me from moving forward, hell no!

I am just putting pieces together.

As the pieces fit I see who fit them together for the better part of my life and I was not the puzzle maker. My parents were, they tried to mold me into a copy of the perfect painting that they wanted. They are IDIOTS. Had they just seen they had the sweetest daughter! Had they just looked at me and really seen me…It’s so sad. I shake my head again.

So here I am reading this poem that Mikell wrote to me back in 1989. It said that we would be together no matter what because even death could not separate our love. Mikell died a few years ago of a heart attack while traveling in Asia but he and I had reconnected (friendship) right before that. The memory of why we didn’t stay together is a little shaded. I know my parents and “twin” didnt like him because he wore eyeliner and had a mohawk (I got your back Mikell as I mohawk my own hair in memory of you all the time now). I don’t know if they sent me off to ski in Indiana and that was why. Memories are still sketchy.

Many people try to do some sort of odd sympathy thing/comparison thing with my memory loss lately. After the 5 grandmal seizures, I remember 10 years and before much better than I can the last 2 years, yet I remember 20 years ago pretty well with the exception of the PTSD blackouts. Ugh. What a mess. So the latest comments are “ It is just your age. I forget things, names, lately too.” Another favorite “ I walk around looking for the phone when I’m on it, your memory cannot be worse than that!” Somehow sharing their own memory loss with age is supposed to make me feel more normal? NO it makes my memory loss feel minimized.

No shit age affects things, as I have walked around looking for a brush while the brush was in my hand many times. Comparisons just minimize though.

After the seizures, I will look at the toaster and not know how to toast my bread. I will pull up to the key pad at the gate and not realize why I cannot get to it because my window is rolled up and my brain does not compute to roll the window down.

My brain was scrambled in the grandmal seizures that put me in the hospital. My brain was royally fucked by constant trauma and PTSD and dissociation and black out periods. So while I am sorry that your age has set in some word recognition issues, you are not me and I would fucking LOVE people stopping trying to minimize my life in every area!!!!

If you lost your dog. I could say that I experienced loss of my dog as well. But do we feel the same? No clue. After my dog died I wished I were dead as I had lost my best friend and the last living thing that loved me unconditionally. If your mom died and mine just left could I say I understood loss? I could understand what loss feels like but I would have no idea how it felt to have a death of a mother that I adored. Just like a mother who has lost her child. I would not know how she felt. My daughter has been critically ill for 4 years now. If your child is sick with a cold, flu, broken leg, you have NO FUCKING CLUE how it feels to be me. If your child has a chronic illness then you probably know some of the emotions I am feeling. But do you have a helpless child and also sufferer from PTSD and a muscle disease with a husband gone?

Right…we all are going through our own shit. Everyone. This is not a comparison game especially with memory, illness,, and abuse. We have a “sense” if we have been raped what another rape victim may have felt but still have no idea what that person is going through.

I am processing the past, processing the present. Trying to find the best way possible to heal. I need love. I need empathy. Empathy is not sympathy or pity or comparing. Empathy is saying “I am so sorry you are hurting. Is there anything I can do.” And sometimes empathy is just presence.

Oh what I would not do for the presence of my dog right now. Or Mikell who seemed to at 16 know that laying my head in his lap and stroking my hair was. ENOUGH. Or Laura who held me in her arms while I cried even when she herself was dying of cancer. Each of us knew HOW to really love.

Oh what I would not do for someone to just say,” Bethany, I love you. I am here for you.” Instead it is “ bethany you are strong. You’ll be ok.” You know what. I am not strong. I am not ok. And I do not know if I will be ok. I do have persistence and fight in me..

I am sharing this entire very long story to shed light on my life a little more so that others can maybe learn, the importance of

1. Patience

2. Unconditional love

3. Presence

4. Perseverance

5. Not giving up on your children

6. Protecting your children

7. The long term affects of parents who chose to be narcissistic and keep secrets

8. The long term affects of PTSD and trauma

9. The importance of giving empathy

10. The wisdom of silence

11. The power in the truth

12. The healing in validation

13. The road to recovery needs support

14. Don’t give up on those you love

I have to end this blog post with two things. I could have easily made this 4 posts and who knows if anyone will read the entire things. I can hope they will.

I recently realized after seeing a baby onesie how early parents sexualize their children. Here are some of the onesies I found online just with a quick search.

For fuck’’s sake people.. let your children just be children!!!!!!!

For me. For every part of childhood lost, let your children be just children..

To end this on a good note…your child is worth fighting for. Fight for your children.. please..

48 thoughts on “My parent’s fail

  1. Coming to terms with traumatic memories is hard. For years I told myself that my going with my Mother to a gay bar when I was 15 was a happy memory; it’s only in retrospect I realize it was dangerous.; It’s only in retrospect that I understood she was making me ‘available’. Fragments of these traumatic memories are often worse than getting the memory whole. How could your Mother send you to a hospital, then sound you away; Mother’s are supposed to care about their children. It’s enraging. I clicked like on this because there isn’t a button that says, “I read post and I care’.

    Liked by 2 people

    • YES oh my gosh you really understood and got the word I was looking for but could not place, she made me available!!!!!! Thank you so much for that understanding and that WORD that I was looking for as that is what upsets me most about what she did.
      And yes, the fragments. Very frustrating. I want to shout at my brain TELL ME THE WHOLE OF IT NOW so I don’t have to try and sort it out.
      Thank you or reading this, what I have written. Wouldn’t that be great if there were a button that said I read it and I care. That would be all that is needed on this wordpress really.
      Thank you. You’ve made me feel better somehow with your words.

      Liked by 2 people

      • I’ve always remembered that night at Charleston’s Gay Bar as a happy night.

        I’ve only now realized that my Mother was making me available and announcing
        that no other woman would have me.

        I am not saying that my Mother made me gay. I am bi-sexual.

        I suspect that in her mind she was making me gay.

        She was so narcissistic she was willing to turn her son into a sexual
        outlaw, which is what gay men were in the late 1960’s.

        She was willing to consign her child to a lifetime of secrets and fear which
        is what it was like to be a gay man before the Gay Liberation Movement.

        Here’s a link to the story: https://wp.me/p47Ymh-6PU

        Like

      • What a horrid human being. I wish I could have been your mother. I would have only showed unconditional love and protection and acceptance. She did a monsterous act/acts to you.
        It was as if she put you in a prison. Awful.
        I will read the story now. Although, my memory, as I think you know has been off since the seizures I had and the last few years sketchy but I swear my brain remembers this story. I will read it again just to make sure I remember it right.
        Isn’t it odd how we remember something as being happy and then as adults can look back on it as the truth it really was.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Fortunately, there was Stonewall and feminist politics and class mobility.

        I understood that some of my suffering was as also a product of the stifling racism and anti-Semitism of South Carolina and left for New England when I turned 18.

        The DID protected me because I locked my Mother in a mental box and forgot her.

        As I made my way in the world I made friends of people who were smart and respected
        my boundaries.

        In the ideal world people have access to what we need to thrive and heal when wounded.

        Americans have made their democracy a hellish dystopia where we send damaged people
        to the streets to die.

        Today, I am not among homeless and dying and for that I am truly grateful.

        Like

      • Anti-semitism….so many do not even know what that means and how bad it still is!
        I wish we had an ideal world where everyone had what they needed. I had to sleep in my car to get away from abuse. Even now I cannot apply for disability because my husband as a police officer apparently makes too much money for me to qualify even though I have a diagnosed muscle disease and PTSD. His salary did not cover basic costs for us and I still have a wheelchair that needs a new tire…. the world has a long way to come for equality in religion and differing ability and trauma recovery.
        I am fortunate to have a husband and daughter who are on my side and validate me

        Like

      • Holy cow yes, I did read it and commented. How odd that I would remember when I remember next to nothing in the last few years. But that stuck in my mind.
        We deserved different, better mothers. We truly did.

        Liked by 1 person

      • Definitely. And committed to giving others a better life too. Those around me will know what true real love is. I love our refusal to yield to bullies. I love my ability to say no to my family and their tactics and to rid myself of them

        Liked by 2 people

      • Absolutely agreed. Have had to teach myself that lesson and implement it and it has not been easy to learn to advocate for myself, open my mouth, speak while in freeze mode. Is a constant challenge but I still try

        Liked by 1 person

  2. Thank you for sharing! What you said about The healing in validation, The anger in people minimizing, and Having empathy meant a lot to me. I’ve found myself very angry many times because of each of these issues.

    Liked by 2 people

  3. “Basement parenting.” Great description.

    In reference to Mikell and being sent to Indiana, I’m wondering if maybe they wanted to separate you from him? And the Indiana thing presented itself, so they took that opportunity. I don’t know, but that’s what came to mind as I read about the timing of those circumstances.

    I was also really curious about the brain in regards to seizures after reading the stuff you struggle with after a seizure.

    It makes total sense that your brain would be effected differently than the way it is in reference to age related stuff.

    But I wanted to see what parts of the brain would be effected so I googled, “what part of the brain manages things like knowing how to use a toaster.” And this is one of the links that came up. https://askabiologist.asu.edu/brain-regions

    I like this one because of the diagram the creator made for it. I’m fascinated by the brain and how it works, especially in reference to trauma…for obvious reasons. I included the link in case you’re interested in seeing. You may already know but just wanted to share.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh absolutely that is a possibility. He was so kind to me though. They took away the one person that unconditionally cared. And sent me to a place where there were no adults, no supervision. No nothin.
      I am also fascinated by the brain. I had a long discussion with my doctor my last visit. She said it was as if there were a lightening storm in my wiring in my brain and it malfunctioned. So some days she said it may not be memory as it is disorientation and also retrieval of the appropriate action. So the brain that tells the arm to reach out and push in a code there is a misfire and I just sit there.
      Today a woman passed me while I was taking pictures of the hawk. She said HEY HOW ARE YOU. Had no clue who she was and since I cannot really remember the last few years it makes me think i met her in the last few years. I told her i couldnt talk because i was OBVIOUSLY photographing a hawk!!!! I mean switched out the lens. In my wheelchair. Taking photo after photo. I even gave her a pleasant thumbs up when she approached as if that were a signal to say I cannot talk i am taking pictures and concentrating!!!!! But she kept on. I guess she was glad to see me. Which is nice but i had no clue who she was and she really knew who i was.
      So it was just unnerving. Then after the hawk i ran into another neighborwho asked if he could come out and say hello…love that…i loved my chat with him an dremember him well but he has lived inour neighborhood a long time. I am very comfortable with him. He is much into nature. Anyway, to my brain. I will look at the website. Thank you.
      It’s odd i will look at something and i know it is there and yet i cant get to it. It is why they at first thought i had a stroke but the ct said no. But since the seizures were so long and five in a row she said that we will not know the full extent of the damage for 6 months. I am on month 4 now and at least now i can remember what i watched on tv yesterday and what i did last weekend so improvements for sure.
      Thanks for sharing the link.

      Like

      • “A lightning storm in your head.” Jesus, that’s intense. And then 5 in row! That’s so much.

        Sorry about that neighbor lady. There was a time I probably would’ve done what she did. I have been such an oblivious soul at times.
        I like the idea of asking if it’s ok to come talk though like the other neighbor did. I will need to remember that if it ever seems necessary or presents itself.

        I hope it’s ok if I ask…when you say disorientation, is it that you know you know how to do something (like use a toaster) or know there’s something you’re supposed to do but not sure what (like push certain buttons on the keypad) but can’t access the info? (I hope that makes sense. ugh)

        Like

      • The ER doctor said it was like I was struck by lightening so I have heard that twice now. It was 30 straight minutes of seizures which can cause brain damage which is why she is waiting the six months to see how much repairs on its own.
        I think i am hyperaware of myself and others which is why i just let people be if i can see they are out with someone or focused on something. But that is just me and my husband reminds me all the time that not everyone thinks like me.
        Yes it’s fine you ask…i will go to the toaster and wonder why I am even there. Then look at the bread in my hand and feel like i have no idea how i got there and what i am to do next. Then itjust sort of sorts out and i put the toast in the toaster and then walk away and forget i was making it and even hungry at all and forget to eat for half the day.

        Like

    • I’ve tried to comment on a few of your blogs. I think the one I just did worked but this weeek every comment just says “failed to send. Retry” it’s a glitch i guess in word press but i have read a lot of your blogs this week just to let you know your voice is heard

      Liked by 1 person

  4. One thing i forgot before i hit send… about what you said on wanting to hear someone say that they are here for you rather than (and I’m paraphrasing) “you’re strong”, etc… I can appreciate that. And maybe sometimes we don’t want to be strong. Or maybe it’s just me. Thanks for sharing.

    Liked by 2 people

  5. Thank you for posting all of this. I can’t relate because I had a good childhood, but I’ve been reading all I can so I’ll be able to help my foster kids better. I wish these sorts of realities didn’t exist, but all the wishing in the world won’t make anything better. I want to be able to help somebody if I can.

    Liked by 1 person

  6. Your post blew me away for its absolute uncompromising honesty; that you have progressed this far in life after such an awful childhood is testament to your courage and strength – truly inspiring.

    Like

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