The Rain Brings out the Pain…

Original Article appeared on my other blog on Bubblews~  http://www.bubblews.com/news/3118095-the-rain-brings-out-the-pain

Image

Rainy day in Halifax, Nova Scotia

 

I knew it was raining before I even opened my eyes today. I have Arthritis and Fibromyalgia and whenever it rains my body aches miserably all over. I laid there a little longer today in bed with my dogs, taking turns hugging and kissing one then the other as we always do in the mornings. I love my dogs, no matter how down I am, a simple snuggle can make all the difference.

I find when it rains is brings all the pain to the surface. The physical pain from my illnesses as well as the emotional pain of events passed. A lot of things from my past still haunt me today and much of it I have kept secret, save for a few individuals I’ve become close to over the years and I flip flop when it comes to telling my story in a public forum. The WordPress community is different though, many of us are all over the world and we’ll probably never meet and maybe through talking about it, I could not only heal faster but maybe reach out to someone going through the same thing.

My biological parents had a very volatile marriage. They fought constantly, yelling, screaming, cursing it wasn’t an unusual event that objects were thrown and/or broken and holes punched in the walls by my father. He drank a lot when I was little and did so right up until I moved out of his house at 20. It wasn’t uncommon for me to be woke in the middle of the night with my parents screaming over me, literally fighting over who was going to take me. I remember hiding in my little closet some days trying to make myself invisible and I prayed to Jesus often suggesting I was left at the wrong home.

There was a chain lock on the outside of my bedroom door to keep me in when my mother was sleeping. If I made a move on my bed I was greeted with “Get the fu*k back in to bed!” This is how my mother spoke to me. I was locked in there so long that on occasion I used my tea set to relieve myself. I hid my tea pot under my bed and when my mother found it, I got a whooping.

At 5 years old I was expected to clean my room daily, including making my bed and putting my toys away. Mothers sometimes threaten their kids that if stuff isn’t picked up off the floor it’s going to be given away. My mother actually did that. She gave some of my favorite toys to my cousin. I never trusted her after that, and I hated being alone with her. My only solace would be when my father got home. Although he drank, he still adored me and he wasn’t aware of the things I experienced until I was much older; I wouldn’t tell him because my mother would have lost it and it would have undoubtedly sent my father in a rage.

As a young child, I was left at home alone unsupervised frequently while my parents went next door to drink at my aunt and uncles with strict instructions to not answer the phone or open the door to anyone. I entertained myself with television and my toys. I was always alone it felt. I wasn’t even allowed to have friends over or go to their house. I was 12 the first time I slept over at a friend’s house (my parents had just split up). I wasn’t allowed to leave my yard despite the fact that our neighbors were my grandmother on one side and my aunt and uncle on the other. I wasn’t allowed to join ANY clubs, groups or teams and when I was 1/3 kids chosen in my school to attend the first French Immersion program my parents wouldn’t let me do this either. I have so much resentment for lost opportunities because they were lazy, “hands off” parents who couldn’t be bothered to pick me up or drop me off anywhere. I wasn’t even allowed to participate in my school Christmas Concerts because they couldn’t be bothered to go and I know all this had a permanent effect on the adult me because now, I have problems being around groups of people or crowds simply because it’s foreign to me and I don’t know how to act; I also have terrible social anxiety to this day.

I have a lot of anger toward my mother who ended up not being a very good one. She always put herself first, to this day, I am not allowed to phone, I was told if I had anything to so to put it in an email. My own mother! As if! It was at that point a little over 2 years ago now that I wished them (her and my stepfather) luck in the future but I was done. There’s still so much hurt and pain there and she has never admitted she did anything wrong or even attempted a reconciliation. I’m her only child. What kind of mother doesn’t want a relationship with their only child?

I have way more but I’ll end this for now, I just had to get some things off my chest. I’m in a lot of pain today both physically and emotionally. Has anyone else experienced a similar upbringing? I’d love to connect if so.

Live Humbly, Be Charitable, Live Graciously,
Sparky

*Photo is mine and was taken by me today.

 

 

 

Advertisements

About SparkyLeeGeek

I'm a cheesy broad with a good sense of humor. I'm also a self professed geek, dog lover, Whovian and music snob. I have earned money by painting, I've worked in call centers, with dogs and in the fitness industry. I also write for Bubblews http://www.bubblews.com/account/165359-sparkylee74 and I have 2 separate blogs on Blogger: "My Whovian Take" a blog dedicated to Doctor Who and "Life in Fog Goggles" a blog dedicated to daily life and living with Fibromyalgia and CFIDS. I will be featured in an upcoming Anthology for HorrorAddicts.net titled "The Horror Addict's Guide to Life" My interests range from Doctor Who, dogs, and Science Fiction to Zombies, Humor and Astronomy. Creativity is my passion.
This entry was posted in Arthritis, Coping, Depression, Fibromyalgia, relationships and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s