I just wrote a post and referred to a traumatic event that happened in my childhood. It occurred to me that I was being totally vague so I though I'd just tell the story.
When I was about 8 and my brother was about 10, we were snooping around in my mom's room (my parents lived in separate bedrooms, yes weird, I know) looking for Christmas presents when my brother found some legal papers that referred somehow to divorce. My brother showed me or I just looked at it and although I am not sure I knew exactly what divorce was all about, I knew it wasn't good. My brother told me we could never talk about what we found with anyone, not even each other. We had to act like it never happened. I felt scared and alone, but I never talked about with any one until a few years ago.
Now I know it seems like kids of parents who slept in different rooms should have some clue that things were not right and some where inside of me, I sensed things were not okay before finding this paper but my family was very good at acting okay and doing family stuff that made us seem normal. There was an elephant in the room but we all ignored.
This event kind of fucked me up. I responded by withdrawing, quitting activities, being quiet, being livid at inappropriate times, and I took those bad habits and I ran with them. A impactful event happened to me and I have chosen to let it define me. I chose to not say something to someone about what was happening or had happened. I choose to look to harmful actions like lying, stealing, drinking, doing drugs, smoking, isolating myself to fill the void I have chosen to allow to grow past childhood.
Now I am at a point that I would like for these problems that I have created to go away but am still choosing to not address them in a purposeful way that is affecting change in my world.
SO there is the story. Maybe a little disjointed but I wanted to get it out here before I lost the thought to do so.