What would you do if you weren't parented from about age eight to age fifteen?
Think about that for a moment. That's eight years of no one looking out for you, no one setting rules for you to follow, no one keeping track of where you're going or who you're spending time with and no one noticing your emotions shutting down, locked up like Fort Knox.
You're getting yourself and you're two younger siblings up and ready for school. You make sure they get on the bus and if not, you have a full blown panic attack and make the bus driver let you off the bus so you can find them and make sure they're okay. You get in trouble with the principal who threatens to discipline you but your personality has already split. You're no longer a young girl. You're a young boy filled with rage and you stare this man down knowing you can take him if you need to.
None of this is funny. None of it has humor attached to it. None of it is kidding, none of it is joking and none of it is made up. It's my childhood. It's my horror story. It''s terrifying to tell and it's anger provoking to hear. I feel stirred up inside like I could beat my Dad to death with a baseball bat. But he's dead. I'll have to find another way to let that anger out so it doesn't hurt me.
There were other men I'd want to beat to death. Sexual abusers, mostly. One of them is dead. The other is still alive but he already admitted to his mom what he did and why. I guess I can't really be angry at him but I still have to be careful. I have a forgiving personality that is also very kind. I can make the mistake of "forgive and forget" without processing what he did. I think it's still important to process it.
There are two women I'd like to swing a bat upside their head. The third one - we've already talked and forgiveness has erased the abuse. The other two just make my stomach sick. It was another time in my life. I was trying to heal in ACOA and CODA. I was confused, lost and didn't know what was going on. Even though I was in my twenties, things happened that were not okay. Yes, the baseball bat would be very well used.
The point of this confession, if you will, is that not being parented forced me to make choices I never should have been making. I was way too young, being beaten and sexually abused by my Dad and self-injuring around the time my personality split. While the methods of self-injury have changed over the last almost forty years, the urge to escape uncomfortable feelings remain.
With the help of 12 step groups and all the help I've received from so many organizations and institutions, I'm able to talk easier with my therapist about what's really going on. I used to be this locked up brick building that no one could get into. Thanks to God for bringing safe men and women who told me they wouldn't breach the wall if I wanted to remove some of the bricks, I feel more in control of what I am ready or not ready to share. It has nothing to do with my therapist - whether or not I trust her. It has to do with my comfort level and if I'm ready to talk about it.
Today, I'm learning to parent myself in a healthy way. Some methods I have nailed down and others need some work. But I know this in my heart:
Parenting takes commitment, discipline, love and grace.
Parenting also takes laughter, forgiveness, fun and teachable.
I'm still learning and I'm going to keep learning until I'm in Heaven.
