I share my life with four others; my husband, our two children and an entity I’ll call Trauma. There was a time when Trauma was useful, because it kept people alive. Trauma has rigid ideas about trust, control and about the types of people parents, particularly mothers are.
Trauma is outlasting its usefulness and it knows it. It sees allegiances shifting and the brightening light of a new and different future dawning, one that has Trauma in the sidelines and not centre stage. Trauma hates nothing more than a brighter future (and therefore its own demise) and has been waging the war of it’s life.
As a mother who doesn’t fit the internal working model, I am a constant challenge to Trauma so it targets me particularly, plays mind games, tricks me and sometimes scares me. It works mainly by wearing me down so I forget who I am and what my values are. I am waging the war of my life too.
Recently I’ve felt myself losing grip of who I am.
I am not who Trauma wants me to be.
But I am who my family need me to be, most of the time.
Someone clever suggested that Trauma is like the Borg from Star Trek; it assimilates its enemies and constantly evolves to counter whatever clever plans its enemies come up with. A bit melodramatic? Maybe but it is exactly what this madness feels like. I haven’t been assimilated yet but it’s a constant effort not to be.
I have managed to step away from the madness and realised I have been trying to compete with Trauma, on its terms, fighting on its territory. I got hitched to its crazy alien craft and I didn’t like where it was going (Sector 001?).
Being more about me and less about Trauma is the only way to prevent assimilation but its harder than it sounds. I’m getting lots of help with that now, all funded by the Adoption Support Fund. It’s come just in time.