I will rise above.
The week of this assignment involved:
📄 filing and serving a restraining order
👮🏻 phone calls with sheriffs, 🕵🏼 detectives, and 👨🏻💼 state attorneys
🤕 a nice little concussion
😢 a couple mental breakdowns
👨🏻⚖️ a few trips to some courts
And yet…
I KILLED THIS ASSIGNMENT.
I will continue to thrive. I WILL finish my education and give my girls answers I the BEST possible life.
This week has been tough.
Even with good things happening, I still feel empty. I’ve worked so hard to get here. I’m working so hard to make sure my daughters are okay. We’ve made it through a hard year. We’re doing better now.
But there are some personal wolves I’ve been avoiding. I’m scared to face them. It’s easier for me to fight battles for others, especially my daughters’ wolves. But why can’t I face my own?
I’m just not ready to accept this wolf. I’m afraid I’m not strong enough to face it.
After years of struggling with various challenges, I’ve received a collection of diagnoses that offer insight into my life and experiences.
Anxiety
Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD)
Major Depressive Disorder (MDD)
Avoidant Personality Disorder (AVPD)
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD)
These paint an accurate picture of my life.
There was one additional diagnosis that stands out.
Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD)
I expected this one. But seeing it on paper provided validation about myself. This never crossed my mind until I noticed so much of myself in my daughters.
This connection urged me to explore the possibility of an Autism diagnosis for myself.
The confirmation of this diagnosis revealed a world I had always known existed but had never truly acknowledged in myself. It brought with it a wave of validation. It’s helping me understand myself and my past experiences through a new lens.
Receiving these diagnoses brings memories of my childhood trauma, particularly abuse from my mother. It is through the expertise of the psychiatrist and my therapist that the pieces have begun to fall into place. They have confirmed that my PTSD stems from the abuse experienced at the hands of my mother.
The effects of the trauma endured, leaving me feelings of inferiority, self-doubt, and guilt that continued well past my childhood. At the same time, these experiences have helped guide me in my own parenting decisions. I am by no means perfect, but I am growing as a mother because of this.
Having the diagnoses on paper does not excuse or justify my mother’s actions. They are, however, empowering. It’s a turning point in my journey of life acceptance. I wasn’t ‘a bad child’—I was an autistic child navigating a difficult world. This new awareness has helped my self-compassion and fueled my journey to healing.
I encourage you to reflect on your own journey. Our diagnoses, our experiences, and our challenges do not define us, but they can guide us towards a deeper understanding of ourselves.
Give yourself some grace and patience.
There is life,
After the Wolf.
Resources for Further Support and Information:
This week, I had my therapist and a neuropsychologist refer me to trauma therapy.
No, not because of things that happened in my adult life. As traumatic as they are, I have been slowly working through those. However, I struggle most with my childhood.
This seems to be a repeating pattern. Every time I begin treatment with a mental health provider, I shut down when it comes time to talk about my childhood. My childhood is mostly black, and the memories that I do have are not positive. Unfortunately, it seems that the root of my issues is the relationship, or lack of, with my mother.
The long lasting effects of the childhood abuse has caused issues with myself and my own parenting. I see so much of myself in my children and I get triggered so easily because of it. When I look at my daughters, I cannot fathom ever saying the things that were said to me. I can’t imagine putting my hands on them the way my mother laid her hands on me. I hold them in my arms the way I wish I would have been held.
That’s a good thing right? Of course it is. For my children. But it is so mentally draining for myself. I am often reminded of the things I did not receive. And to be quite honest, I get jealous.
Those who know me personally know that my children have had to deal with traumatic experiences throughout their childhood. The guilt weighs down on me every day. I get so angry at myself sometimes because I feel like it could’ve been prevented had I had a different childhood. If I hadn’t been made to feel like I was worthless constantly, I wouldn’t have spent my adulthood believing that I was unworthy of positivity and love. Maybe things could’ve been different? I can’t change the past, but I really want to change the future for my daughters.
I know that I have received support from a multitude of people as an adult. And I am so so grateful. Even those who have told me that they were not helping me for me, but that they were helping me because of my daughters and their love for them. That’s OK. I’m thankful for them.
I am so grateful that my sister has stepped in various times in my life to help me with my children when she could while balancing her own struggles. That, even though she and I did not have a good relationship as children and estranged relationship as adults, she still was so selfless in her love. I am so thankful for my other sister and my aunt in Mexico, who also selflessly stepped in to help me in my times of need. I’m so thankful for my father, who continues to support & love me and my daughters whole heartedly through all of my mistakes. Thankful for my younger brother who has a big brother heart and spirit. Who has rescued me multiple times, especially with my car troubles. I’m thankful for my youngest brother who I have an estranged relationship with due to my mother. Thankful because I hold on to hope that I can one day have a relationship with him.
So many times I have been pointed towards trauma therapy, and I have ran. I was not ready to face the reality of my childhood. Quite frankly, I’m not sure if I ever will be. But what I do know is that I am desperately clinging onto hope that this could help me. I am so afraid. I don’t know if I want to know what happened. I’m afraid of repressed memories.
I have to do this though. I want to be a better mother. Right now I’m doing the best that I can but I know that my unresolved issues with my childhood will continue the weigh down on me.
So I’m going to try.
Wish me luck.
She’s looking for affection and the sheep catches her attention.
She looks at him with her big brown eyes.
Like a lost doe looking for direction.
He leads her down a hidden a path in his forest.
The flowers lining the pathways make her feel at ease.
There’s so much laughter and it makes her feel comfortable.
But the Wolf is there. Hiding. Waiting to pounce on her vulnerability.
She trusts him. He knows this.
The sun sets into the horizon and she realizes quickly that he’s the only one around. It’s dark. Yet, she has been led to believe that he can be trusted.
The Wolf. The Wolf.
She follows him into to the forest, the walkways are no longer defined. She’s lost.
The days fade into one another and she’s lost a sense of time. She’s lost the sense of herself.
Yet, she continues to follow blindly. As he knows how to play the part.
But, the sheep’s clothing is unraveling.
He’s hungry. He’s out for blood.
She’s given it all.
For the Wolf that stole her heart.
After The Wolf 