It is a bit hard to move on from childhood hurts. So many people tell you, just forget or get over it. I guess this is all true. If only it was that easy. I realise that as an adult we choose how to react to these hurtful things in the past but there is a self discovery I have made.
I am not a machine, I have a heart with feelings and emotions that have been scared, “Sticks and stones will break my bones and words WILL hurt me”. Yes words that have torn me down all my life. Continuous, hurtful, degrading, mean, words that caused my life to spiral into directions that never should have happened. My ethnicity, my inability to form friendships, just not being able to hold a conversation. I did not have an opinion because I was never allowed to have one let alone speak unless spoken to.
So as you can see without all the drawn out details of my childhood traumas, I have come out with scars that have consequently effected my teenage years and adulthood. Relationships were built on guess work. I did not know anything about the opposite sex as it was left blank in my education and home. So basically I believed what ever was I told. My first relationship at age eighteen was a violent one. This experience was one of the most difficult I have ever faced. I was a young woman who thought this was it, my life was beginning finally, it was love, there would be marriage and children.
But there was a darkness within me. I did not want the relationships I saw around me. The loveless, emotionless, painful marriages that were held together because of children. Why do parents do this, and put their children through so much pain and agony. You are not making their lives complete by staying married. If anything I learned the worthlessness of marriage. I mean I understand the concept, but really, its filled with lies and deceit. Every relationship since, and this is I only realised as I got older, I would cause to break up. I would find fault, and instigate tension. Mind you, every man I was with loved me and wanted to marry me but there was something that just pushed me into the corners of wanting to be unhappy. Happiness was never meant for me. I would push so hard that they would eventually leave and think it just wasn’t working.
To be continued.
~ Jean R ~
This is the true account and excerpts of a womans life. She has asked that certain facts be changed like her name and personal details so as to protect her family and friends. I am not a writer, so please discount the numerous errors you will find these writings. So here it begins.
Shadows of Me..
Hi my name is Gabrielle, im not sure how to begin but the desire to tell my story has been a long time coming. It is not to gain recognition or have anyone feel sorry for me or offer advice. I just want to let out the hidden hurts, the secrets of who I am and be free knowing that there is no longer any reason for me to feel prisoner in a world of silence that has consumed me since I was a little girl. I may go off track and you may get lost along the way of which stage I am at in my life but the truth is I just have to let it out.
It is hard to pinpoint what the real issue is with me. Is it the lack of feeling love, we’ll maybe it’s not really knowing what love feels like. To love or be loved, both fall in the same category for me. My childhood, from an early age is blank. I have glimpses of memories that have stayed with me for reasons I am not sure of. Then there is a gap, a span of years that have been lost. Even in my adult years from about 18 onwards I have massive blank spaces in my life. I do not recall a trauma as such that could erase such a huge part of my life. But through much research, trauma is a major contributor of memory loss, so i assume that is what has happened to me.
What did I do to feel loved. I stole, lied, made believe and told fantasy stories just to fit in. Reality for me was not a world I wanted to live in. I was a prisoner in my mind, my body, around my family and friends. There was only silence. Shadows of who I was. Who am I?
I am a Shadow! A shadow of other peoples personalities. What you liked, I liked. I became who ever you wanted me to be.
I was taught as young as ten to lie. Because if you told the truth you would get hurt. The truth is suppose to be a good thing, or so I was thought. But I soon learnt that emotional truth such as feelings or joy was not the truth that was expected. The beatings were sometimes so harsh, i just wanted to die, because they were not just physical but emotional. “you are evil, you are trash, you are stupic, you are dumb, you are worthless”, and it went on and on. I mean seriously, I was a kid. How could I be any of those things?
I remember praying to this God i was told to believe in to please let me just be happy. Every night I cried as a little girl filled with fear of what tomorrow would bring. This fear resulted in me wetting the bed till I was in my teens. This too I had to hide because the embarrassment would have been made public to all the family so as to put fear into me to not do it anymore. Well guess what, it didn’t work.
I was a sad, lonely, afraid, and completely alone little girl. There was no friend or confidant for me to beg for help. I mean he saw it, but he closed his eyes to it all. He justified it in way I still don’t understand. Why didn’t he protect his little girl?
To be continued,
It has been awhile. There has been times when I thought tomorrow was too hard. I suppose that people will have there opinions of what to do and what not to do.
So here is the thing. I have a story to tell!
One that may not interest some. For others it will be comforting and for some heart wrenching.
The difficulty is how? With what words? Will the essence be lost?
But hang on, it is not meant to please anyone, nor is to receive recognition. I believe it is just acknowledgement that you hear me, agree or not!
Some would call this acceptance of another.
This is a journey that tells of dreams hoped for and yet to be fulfilled. Hurts and sadness that blackened the very breath of each day.
This is the story of a young woman who today lives with these secrets she has never uttered to another human being.
Her hope is to unload, release and trust for the first time in her life.
It will be a process as I am not a writer, so please bare with me while we try to share with you a tremendous true story of woman who wants to be free.
~ Jean R~
Precious are those moments,
when someone gives of their time
without being asked.
True kindness and love is free.
There is no resume for giving.
People are our life.
Try giving and share in what
is a beautiful thing.
Even if it is a smile or
a simple hello.
~ Jean R ~
That feeling of
and a joy only
home can bring.
It is a deep sense
of warmth, maybe
yet still home.
Your feet rest,
in this place
~ Jean R ~