A childhood trauma *9th in Series.

Soon after, minor incidents came up in my family, in which my husband and I clashed for what may have been the first times.  It always seemed as if I was making an issue about something very insignificant.  It was all very familiar to me, yet for the minor things I had listed as having bothered me, I had not seen why I was upset about them.  But I was.  As best I can say, it was as if we were playing out our roles of man as the head of the household, and a wife held on a pedestal, with the husband trying to take care of her.  But, it went against me being myself.  He could not understand what I was upset about, and I could not explain it.  

I had the third son, and was busy with my everyday life.  But, I struggled to make some changes, not knowing what changes to make.  I have found words for this to insert  here.

-Having Choice is freedom. I won free from just having to do as the situation or other people seemed to require of me by choosing to do whatever it was. It was like flipping a coin that had my emotions about it on one side, to another side, as if it was “what if I do it this way instead?” By deciding and choosing to do it, I could bring my own energy into it, originality, ehthusiasm, spontanaety, self responsibiltiy, and my own sense of how to go at things. If someone wanted me to do it as I was being expected, or told, it did not go over well with them. But, I was in charge of myself. I could add more and more of myself into the equation, and even take the wishes of others into account too. I was more able into the circumstances, and in time, it was, and even had to be respected.
————-This was a turning point for me, but truthfully, I  had started doing this, and it felt like a rebellion, a fighting back, when, it was really a lot better for me and my children, and even if my husband thought I was going against him, in a way, it was going against the control and direction he had held over me.  And, I was only starting to do this.  It was hardly a big change at the first.  It was like one layer off of a pattern we had played out.

After the Library Dream, and along with some incidents of my ineffective ways of trying to speak up about what was bothering me, I began to remember a very confusing and traumatic time from when I was a child. 

In the next school year after my grandfather had died, Mother enrolled to go back to college to renew her teaching certification. She farmed out children to various relatives. I would have been happier with my grandmother, but only my sister was left there. I was sent to a childless and older Aunt and Uncle, actually, my mother’s Aunt and Uncle.   But, they kept saying I was to be their little girl now. I had nothing explained to me by anyone.

Again, as I write about it now, I can think of something else. Mother probably did not want any of us in school at Grandma’s , or with the same teacher, after all that happened in that school.  My sister was not in school yet. My brother stayed at home with Dad and went to our local school. My youngest brother, 4 year old twin to my sister, was farmed out to the other grandmother, who was separated from Grand Dad. This turned out to be terribly traumatic for him as well, but of course no one knew this at the time. He was treated like a cute doll to show off, and with almost no attention paid to how a child should sleep or eat, or be taught anything.  No one knew this at the time.  I doubt that anyone visited him either, or explained it was only for that year.

My Aunt and Uncle loved me, but were never demonstrative about it.  I received many gifts and new clothes. But, I was so terribly homesick, and had no idea where Mother was, or that she was not at home. No one visited; so I thought I had been given away and wondered what I must have done. But, these were farms without phones, and travel by car was not easily accomplished then. Of these relatives, only my Dad had a car, a Model T Ford Truck, then a Model A passenger car. The others still used only a horse and wagon, or hired someone to take them to more distant places.

Again, as I write about it now, (in my first writing of this, in 2008) I can think of something else.  Mother did come by bus and transportation was given for her to visit me when I was there. It was very puzzling to me at the time. I remembered this, not from dreams.  I had to play alone there, and I played in a little stream, where there were big flat rocks from which I could jump from one to another. I named them for the shape of the continents.  And, I would bring home rocks or flowers, and say it came from Africa, or from South America. Mother came with me to see where I played, and I very happily showed her my named rocks. I had also done this kind of naming and playing on the big flat rock walkway by our back porch at home. She must have known that. But, she immediately took me back to my Aunt’s house, and told them about the names of the rocks, and was really angry with them for some questions they must have written to her. She also left again right away. I now wonder if they had heard of some of my earlier experiences, and really were afraid about or for me

I will add to this again now that I am posting it, if there are spiritual abilities we barely know about, and which I had as a child, if I had brought home strange rocks, or flowers that were not recognized as native flowers, it might have scared the pants off of my Aunt and Uncle.  I do not think this happened, but I had so many strange things happen, I could not swear it to be impossible.  But, after mother had been there, it certainly was never any unexplainable event, nothing impossible happening  again.   I had truly lost both that such things happened in my life, and all memory that they ever had happened.

But, living with my Aunt and Uncle, finally, after more than a year, I was sick with an ulcerated baby tooth, I was refusing to eat for three days, and my Aunt and Uncle hired a man to drive us to the dentist, had it pulled, and from there took me back home. By then, my brothers, and my mother were all at home. Mother seemed to be very angry with them for bringing me back. She never invited them in, and they abruptly left. It is the only time I know of them ever having come to our house, before or after. Mother seemed angry with me too, or at least that is how I took it. I could truly say, I would not know even today if she had meant for them to keep me as their own child. But, it seemed unthinkable at the time.  I had been in 5th grade while I lived with my Aunt and Uncle, and I had to repeat that grade when I went back to school from home.  However, we went to see my Aunt and Uncle, after mother was back teaching, and it was as if nothing had ever been wrong between them.

I do know too, that the miracles did not happen again until that one with my sons, which was told in starting this sequence of what happened in my life.  And, I seemed to have no memory of these things ever happening.  In that school, the only friends I made were 3 children who were in foster homes there.  And, that was not really friendship; we just sort of clung together in a group.

Much later, the last time I visited my parents before my mother died in 1976, she told me that she had had an abortion that year when she was in college. She said that she always believed it had been an unforgivable sin, and that she would go to Hell. She had lost a boy, in the second trimester. My Dad knew, and also his sister who lived in the college town, who took care of her at the time. She said no one else had ever known.  She would never have told her mother.

By that later time, I was able to talk with her for the person she really was, not just as my Mother. It was also 20 years after the review of these years following my Library dream. —–I told her that we are forgiven before we ask. I reminded her that she had regretted it, all along, even if it had been necessary for her to get on with her life then. But, that she had never asked for forgiveness, and never was willing to believe forgiveness could be hers, or that she did not need to deserve it, only to accept it. —- She did say she hoped I was right. She tried so hard to be a good person, and had been a wonderful teacher to so many children, many with severe disabilities, over many years.

But, I think that the religious teaching had been, always be good, do what is right, and God will approve of you and you will go to Heaven.  Otherwise, you will be punished and go to Hell.  I had come to realize that no one could really deserve the best that we are told may come for us after we have lived.  It is given, it is from grace, it is because of what God created us to be, and from our God-given potential.  And, it is more from choosing to do what is right, of our own free will and desire.  It is not because of rules and a threat of being punished.  God does not seem to threaten and punish us, people do, and say it is from God’s laws.

After the Library dream, I saw myself more able to speak up and be more responsible in planning and actions. I found better ways to put my own ideas across.  But my husband and I were still having all kinds of misunderstandings, and conflicts, which seemed to be about nothing at all.  Just about how I felt, or he felt, and none of it made any sense.

 My emerging information all seemed to be about mother and my confused childhood years.

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