My Unsent Letter

Dear little me

I don't think you realise how strong you are. You were applauded for being 'mature for your age' and for taking on the responsibilities that you did. But really you should have just been allowed to be a child.

You had to be the referee between your parents nightly arguments - screaming and throwing things. You had to leave home with your mum at 5 to race to a caravan park. You had to hide your mum's prescription pills and the alcohol that she would mix it with, knowing when she went through the drive through to buy alcohol, what would be happening in the hours to come. School was a refuge... for six hours you could be that... a child.

But then, when you got home - it was a different story. If the radio was playing as you walked up the back stairs, you knew mum had taken the concoction of prescription pills (like valium) and alcohol. You tried not to wake her. If she woke up, it was like a monster had been summoned. She was crying and swearing and slurring her words, 'I'm going to run away, you kids made me do this'... and some afternoons she'd go for the knives in the kitchen to meet her wrists. You'd beg her, through tears, not to do it. You bravely hid the knives so she couldn't get them. Each night, you'd try to sober mum up, so that when dad came through the door there was less chance of arguing... but each night without fail there was arguing. Friends weren't welcome around the house - fearing the unknown of how she would be. It was a place of toxicity, of turbulence, of unnecessary arguing about the banal and stupid.

Mum started having seizures from the time you were seven. In those days, it was never spoken about and sadly she suffered alone. You would try to help, by being with her when it happened, but she needed professional help. Thankfully she got onto medication that stopped the seizures. And she couldn't mix these with other medications or alcohol... mum was stable, she was good, she was 'normal'. You religiously put the pills out for mum - they made her the 'good mum'... But soon enough she didn't like the side effects of the tablets and went off them and back onto the old mix...

Mum was in a car accident after having a seizure. She broke both her legs, her foot and injured her back and miraculously, survived. But, it made you grow up quickly. At 11, You became a semi-carer - helping with toileting, groceries, washing and other things. Your brothers took drugs and alcohol and were no care and no responsibility at 16 and 18... At 11, you just wanted to be a kid - but saw the seriousness of life.

I have held resentment for my parents for a long time. Having to parent my parents really. But I realise they have not dealt with or healed their own childhood trauma and have faced difficult times as adults - which they have dealth with like injured children rather than thoughtful adults. Although I don't like myself most days, the qualities that I do admire within myself have been born from these incidents - to have compassion for others, to try to understand that everyone has a lot more going on than what is seen on the surface, to know that these wounds aren't easy to fix and that 'being happy' some days is difficult beneath the layers.

Stay soft in a world that is hard and harsh. Do not let these experiences close you off from experiencing life and love - with the fear that you will relive and recreate these trauma's in your current journey.

Much love to those who have experienced childhood trauma. Who feel shame in having these experiences. Who feel alone. You are not. You are connected, you are loved, you are valuable. I look at my little version of myself and my goodness, were you strong.