The brain of remembering childhood trauma through a photo
This was the first Christmas without our father.
This was the first Christmas without our father.
Several months prior on a cold day, he dropped us off at a football game my twin sister and I were cheering at and never came back.
On one hand I was relieved he could no longer physically and sexually abuse me. He could no longer use objects to spank us or make us stand in the corner for hours on our tip toes, all to “teach us a lesson”.
On the other hand, petrified because we’re left with him (oldest sibling).
I look at this photo and see and feel so much.
A family photo with each one of us holding on to family secrets.
The stance and attitude of my older sibling gives off. His ego in the sky, knowing he gets to play the role of “man of the house” now that our father is gone. Something my dad said all the time to instill fear and keep us all in our place.
The size difference in all of us.
My older sibling, was the most abusive. He was violent.
Our other brother who has his arms around my twin and I, also an abuser.
Malnourished, undersized for our age. Except the older one, he ate a lot of our food or would order pizza just for himself and if we were starving we could do sexual things for a slice and if we took a piece from the fridge, there was hell to pay.
I hold a bill, I’m certain came from my him after enduring hours of needing to satisfy his sexual desires. Sometimes that made it a little better, knowing I’d get paid and could get groceries for my siblings and I or treat myself to a McDonalds cinnamon roll, holding back tears as I ate it.
I just looked at the photo, stared at him and said, “FUCK YOU.”
On the outside, I’m smiling. On the inside, I’m dying.
I smell his musty, fast food, dirty scent.
I feel my body being tugged.
My body aches.
I hear his loud and angry voice.
We didn’t have a tree that year.
The little girl inside me wanted to say I miss dad. But I didn’t. I’m certain he hated me.
I’m pretty sure the TV in the background is broken. The clock on the mantle never moved.
My brain flashes his silver chain dangling in front of me as he did what he wanted.
This is the writing of a C-PTSD, trauma, holiday family wound, triggered brain.
That’s it, that’s the post.
I’m so glad to be free from all of that
Off to go regulate my nervous system with conscious breathwork, shaking of the body to rid this energy, and calm yoga. Thank you for reading!
— Kellie Mae
Let’s connect:
#childhoodtrauma #trauma #cptsd #mentalhealth #recovery
