Echo's of the past

Trigger warning abuse, mental health, narcissistic behaviours

I used to think that because I was never physically hit, I was never abused and until the resurfacing of memories, I did not know that I was sexually abused either, nor did I comprehend that I have been emotionally and psychologically abused in a form all of its own.

Abuse is more than bruises, marks, and scars on the outside; abuse will let its presence be felt right to the core of your soul – trauma, prolonged trauma.

Emotional and psychological abuse has the power to tear you apart and wear you down so much until you are nothing more than a shell – to make your heart so heavy with burden.

That is who I was, a shell. A husk that was existing but never living. Existing between periods of deep depression, total shut down and self-loathing; to manic anxiety filled with neurotic behaviours.

Trying to bring order to the chaos of my world in the only way I knew how; by attempting to control everything and everyone (myself included) until I couldn’t do it anymore; to cover the sense that something was not right.

Learned behaviours and survival mode. I coped the best I knew how.

I would have panic attacks, starting in my teens, exaggerating into my twenties, irrational fears, and a deep-seated belief that I was not good enough. That I would never be loved, never be valued, and never taken seriously; thus, overcompensating by wearing myself into the ground by being of service and doing anything that anybody asked from me to the detriment of myself.

I did this to feel connected, to feel loved, and once or if I received that; having an irrational fear of being rejected (based on fact) unless I could be what they wanted; too afraid to let the real me come through, to have a voice.

Who is the real me, who the fuck am I? well that is a remarkably interesting question one which I will answer in my next story. (I hope)

You see I was raised, I understand now, by two extremely hurt and unwell people both narcissistic in their ways and both taking it out on me. Playing out their problems unloading their issues onto me ever since I was little.

As an empath, I took it all. I tried to be the ‘grown-up’ for my parents from the age of seven who were and are still unable to be the ‘grown-ups’ in the room.

Grown-ups as defined by the Merriam Webster dictionary

Grown-up

Noun – Not childish or immature

Adult

My definition

Grown-up

Noun – A person who has seemingly got their ‘shit’ together.

An adult who protects, loves, nurtures, and teaches children

In my case, this did not happen. My parents were from meaning one and hurt children at that.

Seeking to not hurt; to rid themselves of pain through destructive and toxic behaviours and participating in a lifelong lasting tantrum because their needs were not met.

They were meant to teach me, love me unconditionally, nurture me, and protect me, they did not. They were not and are not capable of doing this.

I find meaning one interesting as a side note because in my time I have met more children who have possessed more maturity, empathy, compassion understanding, and inner wisdom than most adults who seemingly have their ‘shit’ together.

We are human, so by default, we may never have our ‘shit’ together, I certainly don’t well not entirely yet lol, however my parents (abusers) shit became my shit. They saw an opportunity to escape their pain through me and they took it; this is the part that is not ok.

I was used, blamed, owned, controlled, abused, and discarded.

Used and abused by one parent (my father) who saw me as a ‘friend’ ‘drinking buddy’, enmeshed ‘housewife’ and now I know a lover, or more accurately ‘fuck buddy’ in later years.

In his way seeking love and connection because of his broken childhood.

Filled with a mother whom although was beautiful, had her cycle of sexual abuse and a father who hated him.

He never felt uncompromising, unconditional love never felt wanted and he had a wife (my mother) who was unable to give unconditional love or even accept love. This was because of the broken parts of her that were caused by hatred, comparison, and fuelled jealousy from her childhood and her own experiences of abuse. Like moths to a flame, they found each other.

I filled that hole for him. I do not forgive, and I cannot forgive what was done to me by him, regardless of the reason or the understanding of why.

Laying his hands on me, raping me disguised as ‘love’ entangling his own needs to mine, failing to set boundaries, failing to protect, to be a dad - using me in an attempt to make himself ok is unspeakable. It is not ok, and it never will be ok. I sit with that, I work with and through that and I move on from that.

It was bad enough knowing and realising that I had been raped by a stranger when I was three. Then to come to terms with this.

The first attack when I was three was because of their alcohol and drug-fuelled parties with everyone from here to sundry attending. This was so that they could succumb to the desires of addiction and toxic affairs of escapism from their pain.

This first attack made me shut down. When it happened, I was told ‘don’t talk’ ‘don’t tell’.

‘Don’t talk’ ‘Don’t tell’ echoed from all those years ago when I was three followed me, so when this occurred with my father, it is no surprise that I dissociated, I cut myself off, I left my body.

The pain from not only the first attack but from each time after. The disgust and bile rising as it occurred and remembering my father’s satisfaction after the events – I buried it.

I repressed. The human mind is extraordinary to protect from immeasurable amounts of pain at the time. To make you forget ‘trauma amnesia’ to take you away, to disassociate when it happens. It did so for many years.

‘Don’t talk’ ‘Don’t tell’ to be added by ‘It’s your fault, you started this, you wanted this.’

The other parent (my mother) is so unloved, desperately seeking someone to love, to control to manipulate because that is the only way she knew/knows how to love. My mother is a narcissist.

When kindness, empathy, and unconditional love were received it was eaten up; then twisted because her hurt could not allow her the ability to feel anything except pain and frustration or anything at all - except the imitation of emotions it would seem.

Pain and frustration that needed an outlet; an emotional punching bag to provide that escape to have that ‘joy’ of feeling in control within her chaos, by manipulating and controlling someone who genuinely cared about her, someone who was ‘weaker’. Someone who would have done anything for her. A child who just wanted mummy to love her, to see her, to hear her.

Bullying, emotional blackmail, and rejection are what this child received.

This child being me. Caught in an endless cycle; love me, love me not, love me, love me not. The ‘pull in’ the loving stage, the deception, gaslighting and blaming stage, where you question and doubt your own sanity, and finally the discard.

'Here we go round the mulberry bush, the mulberry bush

Here we go round the mulberry bush right through your life time...'

Forced to agree, forced to be ‘meek’ forced to choose ‘loyalty’ to her above all others because the emotional pain from the withdrawal of affection, the withdrawal of her love; was too much to hold.

The discard I always tried so hard to avoid but could not. I could not because it is the endless cycle of narcissistic abuse. I did not understand that this was not my fault, no matter what I did/do I ultimately end up discarded.

I wanted so desperately to be seen, heard, and to receive love in the same way that I give love – unconditionally. This did not happen.

This was my cycle from childhood until now. I did not have the ability or capability of understanding this intellectually as a child - all I knew was the feeling that mummy did not love me and at times even like me.

I was deemed ‘too sensitive.’ ‘meek,’ ‘stupid’ and ‘incapable.’

I do not remember a time where the words ‘I love you’ were real. I do not remember sincere moments of pride of being told how proud she was of me for anything, for even just being me - who ever that is.

When questioned the response was the same ‘I show my love through actions, I won’t tell you – now where is my thank you?’

‘Don’t get too far ahead of yourself, you will fail. 'You are weak.' 'You are co-dependent’. ‘You cannot make good decisions.’ ‘You are fat’. ‘You are lazy.’ ‘You are too trusting.’ ‘You can’t learn.’ ‘You are dramatic’. ‘You bring chaos wherever you go.’ 'You are a bitch, just like your mother' ‘You are just like your father – useless, it was his fault and now it’s yours’. ‘You are too people-pleasing.’ ‘You get walked on you are weak.’ ‘It is all your fault.’ ‘Since you came into my life again I have never been in so much debt, I am constantly picking up the tab for you, bailing you out of the shit, when will you grow up?’ ‘You are out of control you can’t manage yourself’. ‘You will never amount to anything.’ ‘You have no follow-through, you have no motivation, no discipline’ ‘Those ideas won’t work, you walk around with your head in the clouds no idea what needs doing you need to be a realist’. ‘you need me’.

Do you have ideas ambitions? I will cut them down; I will cut you down because you cannot fly because then I will have nothing and no-one to control. You achieved something I set out for you – not good enough try harder - the goal post is higher now see if you can jump, higher, keep jumping. You are never good enough and I intend on keeping you down in the dirt to never let you grow.

Your opinion your ambitions are different than mine, you don’t agree with what I say? Then I will ignore you, I will blame you, I will point out your weaknesses until you bleed. I will make you agree by destroying your soul by exploiting your deepest fear of rejection. I will withdraw my love from you until you come crawling back. Your desire to please, to be loved I will use against you in the court of human emotional law.

Oh, you agree with me now? Well, good here is a crumb of affection. Let me sharpen my knives and oil my chains again so I can stab you in the heart and bind your soul. You will never be free. I will not let you be free.

Ok DID makes its appearance here, let me explain

What you just read? That is the parrot. Allow me to introduce you to him. He/it is a male presence, but he is a huge ball of spiky black. I call him the ‘parrot’ because he is the ‘self’ of me who echoes everything I was told all my life and brings forth the memories around the feelings of shame, unworthiness, self-hatred, fear, anger, and self-doubt that should have never been mine to harbour and are no longer.

He is concentrated into one form, one persona, one aspect of self and he used to be with me 24/7 but not now of which I will remain forever grateful.

He does not live in my body though unlike the others, he lives in my energy field. He comes in literally like a wrecking ball hard and fast but thankfully these days, Tonya and Jess two of my other selves kick his ass to the curb. We can control him in a way that was not possible before. Once they kick his arse - all is quiet from him at least for a while.

Hurt people hurt people someone once told me, and I was raised by two hurt people but I do not have to hurt others I do not and I will not repeat this cycle; the buck stops with me.

The first thing I will do is learn to love myself; all of my ‘selves’. To work with them to become stronger. To start to form a whole identity; a whole person to bring the fragmented sections of self-back together as a team working in harmony yet respecting each ‘self’ as an individual, what their role might be and understanding that I may remain fragmented and that certain ‘selves’ may simply just go ‘dormant’ for a while until needed.

I am ok with that because I’m healing, I am moving forward. I have a techno coloured personality and that is fine.

My ‘selves’ my ‘alters’ but I call them ‘selves’ (it suits me more) will be with me /have been with me since I was four or five years old, I realise. A few of my selves were not needed until now or were overshadowed by the parrot and the doubter – brothers; the twins of hatred- big black spiky balls circling each other.

We have a choice to hide or thrive- we choose to thrive. Neither choice is easy here, but only one will allow us to grow, to become who we are meant to be, and to stop the cycle.

By owning our story, by owning, respecting, validating, and honouring ourselves, and only by working on getting our ‘shit’ together can we create the avalanche of a positive future caused by the echoes of the past.

If you are having difficulty, feel vulnerable, or having something similar happening/realisation please call a 24/7 crisis care establishment if you need immediate help

In Australia these are

lifeline ; 13 11 14

Beyond blue; 1300 224 636