Facebook Post 3rd February 2019
So here’s the thing.
Since this morning this has been raging in my head. Over and over, again and again so I am putting it out there and bugger the consequences because I am so very tired.
I am 100% successful.
Every single day, me waking up is a sign of my success. Not giving in to the demons that reside in my head, getting up and still breathing is a 100% success score. Getting to the end of the day in one piece when the voices in my head are trying to drag me apart is 100% success.
I had to have a chat with my beautiful girl this morning about resilience and how life will throw things at her, people will come and go and people will be amazing and others will be downright mean and that I will always have her back…..always.
It got me thinking…..I have survived so much that if I wrote it in a book some would call it fantasy.
I have survived bullying – both at work, personally and at school.
I have been abused – mentally. physically, emotionally and sexually. I have a scar over my eye where an ex who was “supposed” to love me punched me, I have pictures constantly in my head where another subjected me to date rape. family friends abused their positions of power to manipulate and intimidate me and abuse me sexually. I live with the guilt of not speaking up sooner in every single one of those cases but, for the sake of peace, fear, blame and shame I kept quiet.
I have images in my head of when I was shown the video of my ex husband being assaulted destroying our relationship permanently. I have memories of the people who judged me when I left him…”how could I leave him when he had been through so much?”….well what about the fact that every week he would come home and, hampered by his head injury, would shout and scream at me, throwing food and his fists around ….never at me but enough to make me fear. What about what I had been through? Did that not count for anything? His head injury meant he couldn’t control that anger inside him and I had to leave the house in the middle of the night just to get away so I knew he would be able to calm down and it would be safe to go back. I totally understood what was happening to him and that he was so upset afterwards because he didn’t remember any of it but I stood by him until I knew he was going to be ok. I screamed out for help and no-one believed me. I begged people to believe me when I was telling people what was happening behind closed doors. Only one person did on my word and that is why she is and always will be the best friend I could ever imagine having. One other person saw it happen, the speed his anger came out and the speed the situation escalated. She left the house with me at 2am and finally others started to believe me……six months after the initial assault that left the man I loved (and still do) in a coma. I will always love that man but he is not the same man any more so I live with the grief of losing him and the memories of not knowing if he would live or die….and still thinking of others as I went to keep them all up to date every evening after staying by his side at the hospital all day when all I wanted to do was hide from the world.
I have survived the loss of three babies taken before I got the chance to even get to know anything about them and I have survived both post and peri natal depression and labours that left me really struggling to bond….for nearly a year I loved but it was clinical….it wasn’t that all overpowering love that I had a rush of when Alex was born. I live with the guilt about whether that lack of bonding has anything to do with current behaviour patterns,
I am fighting for all of my children with various issues at the moment and this Mama Bear will fight to protect them every single step of the way….even if sometimes I really don’t like the behaviours and the results of those behaviours and as with my ex-husband, I am shouting out for help yet daily I am made to feel like I am over-anxious neurotic and looking for things that aren’t there (actually had those words said to me!). My children and my current husband are my life and I will fight to the death for them, to protect them from harm, bullying, intimidation, pain, fear and anything else that life tries to throw at them. I know they need to grow and develop their own survival skills but I will always be there for them 100%. I know that he loves me even if I really struggle to believe it. I know he loves me because he puts up with so much and tries so hard despite me not being there for him so often.
I have endured so much fear, anger, guilt, pain and raw emotion that I hurt every single day. Every day a picture from the past or from my nightmares comes to haunt me and when I am really struggling, when the pressures of every day life get to me, I am bombarded by them…the what ifs, the memories, the rejection and the total lack of control in so many of these situations
Please excuse me if I am not some sort of hyper positive person, that I cannot leave the past behind me….it has shaped my 100% success rate…..that I struggle to do even the most menial of task sometimes but I will always be there when someone needs me even if that someone has treated me with disdain when they are supposed to be a friend….if they needed me I will be there for them…even if I know I will only get hurt again,
So, if you can’t get beyond the image I portray to survive every day, if you think all I am is some whinging, over anxious, pitiful creature I would like to say sorry to you….not because of why I am like I am but because I haven’t yet find a way to deal with it and move forward. I have tried so hard but it is so tough and just when I think I am getting somewhere I get hit by something else.
It is so exhausting having this daily battle in my head and I am so very tired but I will continue with my success rate….I have to because my family need me, the people that I help need me and the things I volunteer at need me. Yes….I know they would continue without me but if I believe I am needed then that helps my success rate because not surviving is simply not an option…..not surviving is death