PTSD Not Just For Adults Anymore

by Bud
(USA)

PTSD is not just about the adult versions of trauma, those explosions and tragedies that line our lives. When I was a child my tragedies were probably just as intense or even more intense than those that I have faced as an adult.

As a child one would like to believe that the family you are born into are your protectors and caretakers. Then again, no one wrote the book on families based on my family. The torture I experienced either came at the hands of my family directly or by the sheer absence of the family's attention.

Just due to the fact that I am writing this I would have to believe in a greater power. I survived so much.

The first thing that comes to mind is when I was a baby in the crib, I had an intense fever. It made my tongue split in half. The image that sticks with me is when I was in my crib, alone and crying, begging for someone to come be with me. I can see a mister nearby. I only remember the feeling of giving up and then things went black.

I remember once when I was at the top of the stairs watching my sister playing with jacks, and then she pushed me down a flight of stairs. It was topped off by my mother screaming at me whe I got to the bottom.

I remember when I was outside looking for my sister who was seven years older. I was barely walking and yet there I was out there on my own. I saw my sister in our neighbor's yard on a trampoline. The yard was surrounded by a hurricane type fence. My sister laughingly kept telling me to come on in to the yard. I called her to come and get me but she wouldn't come. I eventually found the entrance to the yard but to my shocking surprise there was a Dachsund on a chain just blocking the entrance. It was raging, teeth bared, pulling at the end of its chain trying to get to me. I again called for my sister and she continued laughing at me and kept telling me to come in. SNAP! All of a sudden the dog broke its chain and attacked me. It almost completely tore off my left ear and just missed my jugular vein. I have last minute memories of ambulance lights, lots of blood, and my parents looking upset over what I had done. The rest I don't know.

I remember how my sister would pin me down and thump my chest till it was bruised and then spit in my face. Also when she would lock me in a cabinet and wouldn't let me out. She would grab my hair and shake me all about or grab my little arm and squeeze real hard while jerking me around roughly. My sister punched, kicked, choked, stabbed, and even tried to smother me. She teased, chastised and taunted me. When she decided to try practicing her french kissing on me, she presented another kind of abuse no child should endure.

I remember when I was upstairs and no one was watching me while I explored my parents room, only to find my father's razor blades. You know the old type of razors where both sides of the razor had an edge and you had to slide them out to place them in the razor? Well, it slid out and almost cut off my left thumb. I was just a little guy and the razor was very sharp.

I remember when my parents had me at some broken down house and weren't watching me when I tried going outside and stepped on a board and a big nail went right through my foot.

I remember when Bayers Childrens Asprin had just come on the market. Oh what a wonderful tasting little candy! I was allowed to get my little hands on the entire bottle only to end up being deathly sick and having my stomach pumped.

I remember getting Chicken Pox and having those horrible, itchy, red marks, all over my body to the point that I scratched them to the point of bleeding. Eventually my parents put Calamine on the spots. This would all seem so loving except for the fact that I was stunned by the attention. I had never had such a thing. I didn't understand what it was. It felt so good to have the attention even when my little body felt so bad. It lasted for about ten minutes and then it was gone. It was like a fix of some kind that lasted for a brief moment. What it did was, it made me realize what I was not getting enough attention at any other time. It left me feeling alone and unloved. I don't think that I completely realized how alone I was until that moment. At such an age to have such a realization...

It was being exposed to so much while not being watched. It was the deprivation of proper touch and caring. It was the abuse by those who were supposed to be my family.

How have all of these injuries along with the feelings of not being protected affected my life? What have been the long term illnesses connected to these feelings? How have I acted out these traumas in my life?

I have found that facing these memories and feelings a little bit at a time I get healthier, feel calmer, see the world clearer, and enjoy things more. I choose different and healthier relationships. I am beginning to not be so serious and I am beginning to be more playful. I am still at work on me and with God, it has been a very interesting project. I look forward to me.

Response from Dr. DeFoore

Thanks for your contribution, Bud. In addition to the abuse you talk about, your story really points out the damage that is done through neglect. Neglect can be as damaging as some forms of abuse, and yet it's something you can't see at the time, only later. Thanks again.