Trauma: Biological Connections

When you have lost the most basic biological connections you have in life, everything seems to lack the proper foundation. Many in our world go without these biological connections. I am not referring only to an absent father or a missing parent. This is much deeper than that.

One of those biological connections is to be wanted from birth. To be looked upon as something parents do not want is a recipe for disaster. Even if it is subtle and not intentional, this lack of connection has profound life-long effects. In my case, when I was a baby, my father was sick with a contagious illness. For some unknown reason to me, I was also in the hospital. My mother had to make a choice of either visiting my father or me but because of the contagious illness my father had, she could not visit both of us. For some reason, my mother chose to be near my dad while he recovered. Of course, I was so young that I don't remember the details but to this day, I feel the rejection. It has been a devastating event that has impacted me throughout my life.

Another biological connection I missed was having a father that was not there for me emotionally. My memories of him at an early age was an abusive and angry person. Saying he had a temper would have been a gross understatement. Emotionally he was numb to his own feelings and so there was no way he could connect with anyone in the family. With me being a highly sensitive person, it was a recipe for disaster in my life. My father's idea of emotions was found in his controlling, manipulative and abusive actions we were part of each day of our life.

The ultimate biological connection I missed was to be raped and violated sexually as a child. By the time I was five years old, I was introduced to a world of trauma. The trauma and abuse did not begin to stop until I moved to college. Once my father began to slow down on the daily abuse with me, my older brother picked up the pace. We were taught to hold these secrets within ourselves by reinforcement through physical, verbal and emotional abuse. My body did not know what normal was when it came to touch. Touch had been replaced by trauma. My body only knew that it was being violated at the whim of those who were my caretakers. Instead of showing me love and affection, my caretakers in life were the ones manipulating all that a young child holds sacred in this world. This affected me for many years to come and there is still not a day that goes by where the effects are not felt. The shame and guilt carried as a result of these acts was tremendous.

After I was hospitalized for paralysis, I suffered a harsh treatment from the family giving me the silent treatment. Even though this biological connection had been disrupted before in my life, this time is was permanent. Once again, having a family completely reject you through some of the most hate filled words of a letter was painful beyond imagination. The only way to survive this torment and trauma was cutting off all ties with them. Their silent treatment and manipulation was the final dagger to my heart. By silent treatment, I imply that unless you did as the family expected, you were the outcast. Various forms of the silent treatment were used to bring you back in line, if you did not come to your senses as the family would suggest.

Through each of these severed biological connections, I was forced into a world of trauma and banishment. Not having these connections, stole the foundations of my life from me. While I have worked to build the foundations later in my life, I find that it is extremely difficult. For when these things are missed, it is as if you are putting half baked bricks together without cement in building the walls of your life. There is no way that these walls can stand the test of time.

So with courage, determination and hard work, I have been able to deconstruct some of these walls and begin building up my own walls. It is neither an easy process or a fast one. Missing those biological connections so early in life has clouded my view of what others consider to be normal experiences. I continue to build the walls of my life replacing those missed biological connections with new experiences.

Anyone who has experienced these things in life, knows that the steps to healing are difficult and few really understand the process. In order to survive and grow in life, it becomes a necessary step of healing. The bumps and bruises along the way are painful but each time a block is added to the wall, there is cause for celebration and joy.


(Above Picture taken - (c) 12/05/06)

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Curse Of Being Sensitive

Some people observe others who are happy, sad, depressed, or angry. For me personally, I not only observe this in others but then I feel all of their happy, sad, depressed, or angry feelings. I can feel these things in others from a distance. I can feel these things as a collective feeling of the environment around me. It is as if I'm watching scene after scene in a movie. It is no more difficult than that for me to pick up.

Of course, there is much more to it than my simple description above. It is highly involved. Often I fear that I pick up more than each individual actually realizes is going on within their own mind and body. Most likely, if people actually knew all that I picked up, they would run away from me in a frightened state of panic. I choose to keep this to myself in many ways as a result.

I do realize I am one of those highly sensitive people. Some days, I consider this to be a curse. Even though I know it is helpful to me in life in many different ways, being so sensitive is a heavy responsibility and load that I carry. My interaction with people are not just hello and goodbye. If it were only that easy, I would rejoice. My interactions are much more than this. I would not know what it meant, to be around others and not pick anything up.

While I do not ask for this and some days I curse it, I know it is who I am. I realize that many days I do not fully realize all that I pick up from others. It feels like a flood of information gushing from a giant hose. If I searched for a valve to stop it, I would not find one. Even after living with this all of my life, I still do not understand it. It scares and frightens me. Some days I have no rest from it.

I have been told that being sensitive is a good thing. Yet, at times in life, I feel tormented by it. When I was a young child, I grew up in an atmosphere that did not welcome it. My sensitivity did not fit in. Often, I was overwhelmed by all the insensitivity I lived around. My body felt all that was going on, while my eyes witnessed the events and my ears heard the cries. There were never enough silent tears of anguish for me to shed.

To this day and moment, I feel from such a distance to all that is going on around me. I am not even certain what all it is that I am picking up. It feels like information overload. I seek moments of peace far away from the lights, sounds, actions, movements and people. As I wrote in a poem that when I feel bombs bursting, I seek safety in the ground.

This world and this life is not an easy one to be a highly sensitive person. I have no idea if there is an easy way to live with this or if it will always be this difficult. I have no idea the shape or dimensions this side of me will take as I grow in life. Will it become clearer to me or will it disappear completely?

I would like to believe that with time, I will begin to understand more the ability that I possess. I would like to know that it would be there when it was most beneficial and would give me peace when it was not necessary. I would enjoy finding more moments of peace within my day even if this sensitivity remains on high alert. This is my hope.


(Above Picture - (c) 08/19/10)

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I Was Silenced

Some days I want to act as if nothing ever happened to me in life. I want to feel like my life was one of living a normal life like so many others do in our country. I want to not have to think for one more minute in my life about the horrors of hell that I've been through. Many say that this is something you can do if you want to. I say, they have not walked a mile in my shoes.

So many things that I remember and so many things that connect me back to my childhood days are nothing but pain, suffering and misery. Yes, there were some good moments and fun things that happened, but in amongst those things, the horrors came out in force. It was as if you had one moment that was fun and exciting, the horror was mixed within it so that you could not tell one from the other. They were separate but one and the same.

It angers me to no end every time these things crop up and fill my conscious thoughts. They have distorted every view of life that I hold and robbed me of so many things I long for. There is not a day that goes by where I don't listen to the screams of these haunted shadows in the corner. There is not a day that goes by where my actions, my thoughts and my hopes are not influenced by what took place.

The hell that I live through and the hell that invades my body feels like a never ending supply of nourishment that I'd rather not eat. The vile of puke that invades my mouth when I see the pictures of those that did the things to me fills my every sense with disgust filth. I often wonder, do I really have the energy, the courage and the determination to see the fight through that lies before my eyes. I keep telling myself yes, but then I'm constantly reminded of the hell in life.

My mind will never understand what was done to me. My heart will never accept the lies that were told to me. Yet my mind and my heart often struggle to communicate. I'll never know what true love of a father is or for that matter, what true love from those who bore me really means in life. I did not experience it. There is no explanation that can make up for all that was done. The words of our language are not that powerful and broad.

Healing has shown itself to me but there feels like a million miles that await beyond my grasp. It feels like a carrot that dangles in the wind, enticing me forward only to mock my slowness in reaching to capture it. While I cannot discount how far I have walked on this journey, I become angry at times that I even must walk this journey. I question why does it exist? I question why must I be the one to walk the thousands of miles.

Never in a million years will I understand why I endured the pain of many lifetimes in this current existence. I know all I can do is prove my abusers wrong by coming out victorious in the end. This the greatest arrow I can unleash upon their existence in life.

It is a story that many have tried to silence me on. It is however, a story that must be told. For if I allow this story to lie in a secret grave, I am only allowing it to feed upon others in our midst. There are far too many that tread upon the waters of life as if none of this ever happens when in fact, it often happens right before their very own eyes.

One day, I'll be able to write with detail and clarity all that happened in my life. The abusers will be held up to the light of day for all that they did and their dirty lies and secrets will no longer inhabit a home within my body. One day, they will answer for all that they inflicted upon me and others, and they too will have to account for every bit of it. Of course, they that did this to me and others, know exactly their identity.

One day, there will be freedom from these things and the pains and hurts of the past will diminish with time. With hope, the body and the mind will be able to travel onward in life putting the distance of a thousand oceans between all that happened. I was silenced for too many years of my life but no longer will I live in silence. This story must be told. The facts must show through and the abusers be held to the light.

(Above Picture taken at Deltona, FL - (c) 11/03/09)

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