We all know those ladies, demanding, abrupt, slightly tense? No one likes those attributes. Here's my story, as a person who embodies all three, as I journey through parenthood.
I suppose the way we parent starts with how we were parented ourselves. As a child with major abandonment issues and experiences which took place before I was three, I believe in many ways my brain has been wired differently to my peers. All our brains are wired for survival, if survival is threatened at a young age I believe the brain, which is so malleable in those formative years, finds it easier to adapt itself and assume the traits it believes will ensure its survival better.
I need to add that from the age of 4 my upbringing was tender and loving, with great support and numerous attempts at healing the hurts. Sadly, the past frequently came knocking, making a wreckage of the repairs I made, psychologically and emotionally.
My physical survival was never at I'm , but there exists a fascinating state called psychological death. Emotional trauma can become so overwhelming that the mind almost divorces the body in an attempt to separate itself from the experiences it's having. Sometimes, when the mind thinks it's about to die, even when the body doesn't, it believes it dead. We here the terms "dead inside", "numb", and others all the time. Sometimes they're exaggerated but at times, people truly have had a psychological death. I know I experienced this at the age of 2, something I never truly managed to recover from.
Where does this leave adult me? Despite the fact that I have seen numerous therapists as a child and through my teen years, had numerous therapies, tried a few medications, there will always be this residual damage inside me that I can't heal. It's so tangible in the way I am, yet, when I explore my own psyche it's completely elusive and I just can't grasp it to analyse and understand it.
It's left me with some OCD tendencies as I desperately need to be in control of my environment. It's left me with a major inferiority complex and the belief that if anything bad happens, my existence plays a part in it. I am anxious, it's something I've learned to live with but the anxiety makes me snappy, short tempered and insecure. The most debilitating condition I have which is the crux of almost every difficulty I've faced as an adult is a abulia. The inability to act. I'm an idea factory, known for out of the box and never been thought of concepts that die as I formulate and share them, because I can never follow through. It goes far deeper than that, it's cost me many jobs and it's cost me my most precious friendships. It's a btlle no one will ever understand, but I know I have to get up with a fight each day to hold on to the little I still have. I fear that if I ever stand still longer than a minute I will never be a able to move again.
Fast forward to motherhood. I was blessed with a precious baby girl when I was 27 years old. In my 20's I managed to be fairly relaxed, easy going and comfortable with life. A huge achievement considering the crumbly mess I actually am. Come baby, come crumbs scattered about like lost stars. Major OCD, major fear, major anxiety. The fear I experienced at the thought of my infant wanting for anything left me overrun and consumed. I was obsessed. She was breastfed exclusively. Held and cared for exclusively by me. I had palpitations and breathing difficulties if other people held her. I pulled all nighters alone caring for her because u believed no one else would know how to do it right. No one but me. Everyone else would make a mess of it or upset my baby and that is equivalent to end times sagas. I burned myself out but the OCD gave me adrenaline and focus.
Fast forward to toddler hood. Due to financial problems, partnered with the fact that my abulia was exacerbated staying home alone, along with the longing for friends (I moved to a strange town when baby was born), I took a job and baby had to start school. She was 18 months old, bright as a button, happy as a cricket. I believed the world would end for her. How would she survive without mama?
My first day of work saw me married to my phone. I was convinced the school would phone me any minute to tell me she's hysterical and needs me. They did not. She had a wonderful time.
As time passed and I saw that I have raised a fantastic, confident, highly verbal child, I've learned to relax. What never will relax inside me, is the fight I have for her.
I am the mom that will phone the school counselor and I sisters they wall to the baby school on the other side of the property to check she's not crying (I did that yesterday). I am the mom that will forbid the school from feeding her certain foods, like noodles and MSG, I am the mom who will harass and annoy people. I'm the mom everyone dreads because I am admin. I am a nagger. I am scared my child doubts that's she's loved and appreciated. I am the mom who chooses schools based on their discipline protocols. I am your worst nightmare, probably.
I am sorry. I want the world to understand how desperate I am to feel like the most precious part of my life isn't experiencing the rejection, the pain, the loneliness, the confusion and the fear that was my reality as a baby. I know I over compensate, but it's my way of nurturing the tiny little girl inside of me that lost the love that was so imperative for her emotional and intellectual development and happiness. Please bear with me world, I'm a broken mama trying to raise a whole human.
