This post is part of a series in which I am providing an overview of my healing process from child abuse. The story begins here.
In the summer of 2003, my mother-abuser had major surgery. She could not be left alone after coming home from the hospital, so my sister and I agreed to split up the time to stay with her. I was dreading staying at her house but believed that it was my duty to go. My son was only two years old at the time. I was a stay-at-home mom, so I took him along with me.
From the moment I walked in the door, I was edgy. I felt rage brewing beneath the surface, but I could not tell you why. I remember my mother falling asleep while we watched TV, and the thought raced through my head that I hoped she was dead. I was mortified by this thought, which I now know was the thoughts of Irate, who was one of my alter egos.
After I had been there for three days and still had one or two left to go, my anxiety was peaking. I was a complete wreck, even though my mother was doing nothing outwardly to warrant my reaction. I cried myself to sleep each night and prayed that I could leave soon.
During the night, my mother-abuser knocked on my door at midnight and told me that I had to go to the 24-hour Wal-Mart to pick up something for her. She lives in the middle of nowhere, so it was not safe for me to drive 15 miles on country roads to run this errand for her, but I did it because I believed that I had no other choice. I left my two-year-old son behind because he was fast asleep.
When I returned from the errand, my mother told me that my son had awakened while I was gone, and she had gone into his room. I completely flipped out. An alter ego took over (Irate), and I was just along for the ride.
I pulled my son out of his crib, slammed the door to my room, and held him close. I bawled my eyes out, asking if that crazy woman had hurt him and apologizing for leaving him alone with her. Frantic thoughts were racing through my head, filled with fear that she had sexually abused him.
The weird thing was that these were not “my thoughts.” I felt as if I had been shoved to the corner of my head and that “somebody else” was controlling my body. I stayed co-present (did not black out) for the entire thing: I just was not in charge.
The next morning, my mother told me to leave right away, and I probably left skid marks as I drove away very quickly. I stayed in a rage for weeks, which I now recognize as Irate staying co-present. This experience is what kicked off my healing process from child abuse.
Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt
Blooming Lotus 
Faith,
Thank you for your series on this subject. It really hits home for me.
My healing process began when my husband was diagnosed with an inoperable brain tumor (I was twenty-seven years old and he was only thirty). My grandmother was also dying of cancer at the time and both were given only months to live. My grandmother had raised me (along with my mother), and was a “less extreme version” of my very mentally ill mother who had tortured myself and my sisters–mentally, physically, and sexually.
At the same time, while working six days a week, ten-twelve hour days (an admitted workaholic), I had undergone an emergency reconstructive surgery on my reproductive organs, which had me flat on my back–at the age of twenty-nine. I had not choice but to stop “running”.
My mother had insisted on staying with me at my place “to take care of me.” She had wanted to sleep in my bed and I had insisted that “any movement on the bed caused me extreme pain”—that was the truth, and a way of “not hurting my dear mother’s feelings.” It was when she entered my room unannounced and kissed me on the lips—-that was the defining moment for me. She had shut my bedroom door behind her but, for some reason had reopened it and caught me crying and frantically “scrubbing off her kiss” from my lips with my hand. I was “busted” and my mother was “pissed off”—-to put it lightly! I locked my bedroom door from that night on but, did not have the guts to tell her to leave, at that point. She spent the next week in my leather, recliner/rocking chair, “rocking” and did not speak to me for the entire week.
I had called a therapist seeking help in dealing with my dying husband and grandmother. The therapist had asked me to retrace my past and I could not remember anything prior to the age of sixteen when I had stopped sharing my mother’s bed (I had began dating at sixteen–my then future husband–and my mother decided to marry after thirteen years). My grandmother had moved to her trailer house next to her son and grandchildren an hour’s drive away, after much fighting with my mother about “leaving us girls alone with Mom.”
Even though I felt nauseated and plastered a “fake smile” on my face (as did my sisters) whenever I was around my mother, it did not remotely enter my mind, that “SHE” was my main abuser!—It was then that the flashbacks hit with force—and NO—there was no prompting what-so-ever, from my therapists. In fact, I was referred several times when my therapists realized that I required treatment “beyond their scope of expertise.”
I suddenly found myself in the bathroom, with a male alter part (I did not even know the concept of DID at the time), wanting to bash his head repeatedly on the toilet. It was “loud thoughts in my head,” as you describe, Faith. I then drove frantically, in the wrong direction, on one-way streets and over meridians. I thought that I had “lost it, completely.” I was becoming “crazy–like my mother,” I had thought.
Faith, thank you for sharing and allowing me this forum to share, as well. Hopefully, it will benefit others as more of us speak out………
Tami
Faith,
I wanted to add that it is sad that we felt so powerless over our mothers/abusers—-even as adults! It was not until we reached our pinnacle moments that we had the courage to stand up to them. I am very glad that we (including your sister–if I have understood you correctly) found the strength to do so. My sisters, in the end–did not.
Take Care,
Tami
Faith: Healing is so hard isnt it? I am still in the healing process and am finding it really hard to deal with all the flashbacks that I am having. Thanks for sharing your healing process and all the best to you in your healing..take care..Mary
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