Trauma

I just want to run into the street and shake my fist at the sky, I want to go totally 'Fawlty Dad' and thrash the ground with the branch of a tree.

Why?

Because Trauma wins.

It stains everything it touches and seeps out of the shadows of children's lives and with insidious determination casts shadows over mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters and anyone close enough to touch. It feels personal but it's indiscriminate, it chokes love and care, crushes hope and joy. It blinds, deceives, draws you in and asks you to dance to it's tune, it camouflages itself and deflects the blame onto everyone close.

Four weeks ago the historic trauma rose up and cut through us all like a scythe.

Our family, friends, colleagues, faith and professionals caught us. They held us when we couldn't stand, they gave us the worlds to say when we didn't know what to say, friends and acquaintances stepped in and stepped up. I've never felt so cared for in my life. So, thank you for your kind words and wise words shoulders to cry on and ears to listen. There are too many to thank but thank you anyway.

Trauma has not won this battle.

Trauma remains a feature of our home but because of  those who closed around us we are still here, so thank you.

Safe as ..........

It's a year since we moved and as we slide into the summer holidays the Good MrsC and I have been pondering that decision and the year we've had.

Basically it worked.

We regained control of our environment, reducing some of the physical challenges and threats that appeared to be encroaching on us. Of course there's lots of factors around that but the primary issue is summarised in a meme I saw recently-

'Being safe is not the same as feeling safe'

The perception of safety and misguided or unhelpful reactions and strategies to manage this feeling that my children manifest was becoming harder to manage and live with. It reached a point where we realised to give us a few more years grace we needed to move. That and a few other factors helped us make that decision. 

Our old house was fantastic, and safe, but we felt that perception of being safe was eroding in the mind of one of my children.  

But, we all feel safe here in our new house.

I feel safe, if any of my children 'run' then they'll not get too far.  I didn't have to pretend to walk the dog, hide in bushes and inconspicuously follow her round the neighbourhood.

She has run. I didn't have to chase, as I knew the raaaah would have blown over before she got to the end of the track and she would return.  I could see her sobbing, telling a horse what a pig I was. She returned when it got dark and she was hungry and felt less raaaah.

Flossy feels safe in our new house, we have no passing cars, no 'strange children' playing in the street. The fact that most people get lost finding us makes us feel hidden. It's predictable, sleepy, slow and feels safe.  A few months after the move she announced 'I love our new house'

The reality for some of our children is that feeling safe is a scare commodity, negative experiences are hard wired to growing brains to communicate a constant lack of safety. Hyper vigilance is frequent and consuming it precipitates conflict, anxiety, tension and a need to control. All understandable reactions and reactions I display when I feel unsafe and threatened.

Knowing this forced the move and MrsC says it saved us. Of course there are other challenges but we aspire to keep one step ahead all the way.

I loved my old house, I make detours to not pass it as I still feel sad at the loss but ultimately it's bricks and mortar. Like all parents we do what we have to do.

Crease

crease

kriːs/

noun

1. 1. 

   a line or ridge produced on paper or cloth by folding, pressing, or crushing.

   
   

   
   

I lay in bed listening to the wind, it's almost a pleasure, laying listening to the wind pull at the house and thrash the trees. I feel safe in the warm and the dark. I'm programmed to feel safe, it's my experience of life, I can assess risk, apply controls if necessary to negate the hazards and know that it will probably be ok.

As I lay in bed I think of some of my children who have limited capacity to feel safe. No amount of reassurance dents the anxiety and tension that sits on them.

Like a crease in a piece of paper, it can't be undone. I can flatten it, smooth it out by hand, crease the opposite way to limit the effect or try to iron it out.
The crease remains, the structure of the paper is permanently altered.

Tensions hover round the house and all issues feed like a giant hopper into that lack of perceived safety, that I or Mrs C can't keep them safe. Ripping control off untrusted adults to keep themselves safe resulting in conflict and Raaagh. Letting the Raaaagh take over and feeling safe in the power that it brings the power to hurt by word or deed. Pumped on the adrenaline that the lack of safety can bring crazy behaviour sometimes follows.

The feelings are denied and we gently investigate, 'has someone upset you?', 'did something happen at school?', 'are you worried about something?'.
Usually the truth has out but it takes time, hours, days or weeks.

The paper is still paper, it still has value and use but the creases remain.