Living in chaos. I grow up in chaos. And escapism. And a vicious cycle ensued. I learned early that Dad was easy and Mom was.... well, a boyscout troop leader, I had better be prepared. For anything at any time. So let me say this before I proceed... today I know that it is up to me to move through this and beyond. Today I know that my Mom was/is not evil. Today I remember a lot of truly wonderful things about my childhood that only my Mom could have given me. So read this for what it is, and try not to read too much between the lines.
Today I know about how trauma affects the brain. And how deep those veins run. And I know that I only lived what I knew for a long, long time. I vacillate between regret that I distanced myself from my family and regret that I didn't do that sooner. I missed out. On some things that I never wanted to miss out on. Time with my Dad for instance.
But I also know today that I needed some space to learn to find models that I wanted to be like. I had to then submerge myself in their lives. Because I could say I wanted something different, but I didn't know how to achieve it. Today I know that the world judges me by my actions, not my words.
But I digress....
Childhood. Chaos. Organization. Me. None.
I. do. not. have. the. organization. gene.
What I do have though is a lot of survival skills. Bullshitery 101. Always be quick on your feet. With a reply, with a word, a smile, a monologue. Whatever it takes. To act like an intelligent, integral part of society. Even though I may feel like a fraud on the inside. Feeling like I will never actually know what it is that I'm supposed to know. This is generally not true. Because not only am I adept at adaptation to my surroundings, I am genuinely pretty smart. But most of the time, I don't know it. As I type it, I know it on some sort of intellectual level, but it is still missing on a deeply embedded heart level.
Another thing that I have going for me is ADD. I know you can't tell, since my writing is neatly categorized and organized into paragraphs that make sense. Okay, I also live with a fair amount of denial.
There are some interesting facts about the science of childhood trauma and how the brain develops. A brain raised on cortisol is not the same as a brain raised with "normal" levels of the stress hormone. I would love to know how much ADD/ADHD originates from trauma at an early age.
See that. Bunny trails. Who would have ever known?
Oh, and I also have sarcasm on my side. That was probably buried pretty deep as well, hidden from you, the dear reader.
What I know today is that I am going to try to clean in here. And it scares me and terrifies me and overwhelms me. All at once. Everything all at once. *heavy sigh* I already know that I am going to get stuck, that I am currently procrastinating my little heart out, and that I will be exhausted very soon. Oh gosh, yes. I am exhausted just thinking about it.
So I was planning to write about how chaos in childhood affected my ability to parent, but this took a completely different turn. As writing often does. In my world, it is a beast of it's own and I can harness it's power, but I cannot tame it or control it. Today I know I am unorganized, unable to just decide it and then magically become organized, and that there is hope to methodically and slowly plod toward a future that is less chaotic, more organized.
So this is what I will trudge toward today.
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