A New Life

In my 18 year old logic, I was finally on my way. I was leaving the abuse and chaos of childhood and moving into the safety of my own marriage and adult life. I now had the ability to create the life of my dreams! But let's talk about the reality of my situation and what the terrain of my body was.

I had experienced many traumatic events, both large and consistent smaller ones. This means that my brain had developed many auto responses to certain "triggers". I had zero understanding of any of this but that doesn't mean that my brain and thereby my life, wasn't completely impacted by each one. These auto responses also created downstream physiological impacts. The body's response to the triggers is very similar to the initial response experienced in the traumatic event because it doesn't know it is a past event, it experiences it as if it's happening now. Have you heard the adage "you take you with you everywhere you go?" Well, this is true to all of our trauma's as well. We take them with us, until we understand and heal them.

Physiologically, my body was showing signs that it wasn't in the best of shape. The eczema was just one of the items that had been manifesting from the stress and trauma. My gut was also showing signs as I was dealing with Irritable Bowel. I was extremely tired and could sleep at a moments notice. I thought it was normal to not be able to stay awake during a car ride. I couldn't keep my eyes open even if I was engrossed in the conversation or the passing landscape.

Emotionally, I was extremely out of touch with all the feelings that had been bottled up and stored in the back of my mind. I wasn't aware of the impact they were having on my physiology nor was I aware of the guardrails I had developed to keep myself safe and somewhat regulated. These patterns, like those developed to cope with the traumas, are automatic and I had zero understanding of the impacts they were having on my reactions, responses and choices.

So while I thought I had moved out and moved on, nothing in my internal world had changed. Yes my external surroundings were different, but my view of them was very much colored by the experiences of my childhood and my desire to will my way to a new life wasn't enough to overcome what required healing. I didn't understand that then and as I tell the next years of my life, I pray that I can remember that what Maya Angelou says applies to me too - "when you know better, you do better".

We rented a 1 bedroom farm house in Fielding, Utah. It was surrounded by fields and was my very own. We purchases a used bed and was gifted a couch and chairs from my in-laws. We were able to purchase a new kitchen table with the gift money we received from our wedding. We were off to a good start. I don't remember discussing the roles we would each take on. My husband was a farmer/rancher and worked on his family farm. He had stopped attending college and decided to commit to the farm full time. I was going to be the stay at home mom and it seemed completely normal to me. I felt lucky to be in that position and wanted to be a great wife and mother.

I was extremely tired and found early pregnancy to be full of new smells. I could smell everything and found most days in that first summer of marriage to be one new experience after another. I was excited to be pregnant, but felt like a fish out of water. My mother in law was a wonderfully kind woman who started reaching out and sharing little tips with me, along with recipes of things my husband enjoyed. My sister in law who lived in Fielding too, was also kind and became my first friend in my new married life. I spent my days sleeping in, trying to cook and wondering how to fit into my new life. While my own mother was extremely talented in all the homemaking skills, she was extremely overwhelmed in her own life and since she isn't great with communication, I didn't reach out to her to get help in my new role. So I did what I had become accustomed to and tried to figure things out on my own.

Let me try to describe what life was. It was very much a small rural farm town life. Most families operated farms, ranches or dairy's. Most men worked with most women focused on their families. Most of the town was comprised of generations of families working together to keep their farms running. It was normal to have many homes side by side that housed different branches of a family tree. You could find grandparents, then parents, then children's homes all built on the land surrounding the farms and dairies. There was a small store that shared the space with the post office. Across the street was the elementary school. There was a park with a softball field. The town boasted 318 residents and sat 10 minutes away for the metropolis of Tremonton, which had 1 stop light. If I had been emotionally healthy, I imagine it could have felt idyllic, being a part of a small community like that. But I wasn't emotionally strong and healthy and felt lonely and unprepared.

What I know now is that my body was exhausted from all the trauma. I had no understanding of the illnesses that were taking root and I had zero understanding of how to be in a relationship with a man. What I did know was that men were unsafe. They were critical, they held the power of the money and they had the physical power. Aggression scared me and in my mind, was a precursor to violence. It didn't end with a raised voice, it ended with a woman on the ground bruised and sobbing. My initial attraction to my husband was because he seemed more soft spoken than my step dad. He had a different physicality also. My step dad was around 6 feet tall with dark hair. He was a drill sergeant in the army and used his voice to command respect. My husband was a bit shorter, blonde hair and in the beginning, used a calmer voice. As we were dating, he was playful and full of laughter with his friends and it was easy for me to relax with him.

As we started to combine our lives, I started to see a different side of him. The stressful side. The angry side. The critical side. All of these things were hard for me as they were in fact "triggers". (I use this word in quotations because I feel like it is over used. I mean it in it's clinical meaning when dealing with trauma. I know we can all be triggered by different situations, but there is a more intense reaction within our brains, especially with childhood trauma and so I want to be clear that we are discussing that type of trigger.) As these different parts of his personality were coming out, I started to react with fear and as you might imagine, it wasn't healthy or conducive to a strong foundational start. It is impossible for me to separate what issue was caused by my reaction verses his reaction. It isn't my intention to paint him as a bad husband, or me as a victim, or any sort of blame game. I want to share how I saw things, experienced things and how it caused pain in my life. I'll do my best to tell the stories without trashing my ex-husband but there will be bias as I tell my story. He's the father of my 2 older boys and I respect him for all the gifts he's given them and me over the years. So as I tell my experiences during our relationship, I do so with the disclaimer that it is MY view and not necessarily his. My perspective doesn't necessarily mean the "truth", just the truth of my experience at the time.

As fall arrived, so did the opportunity to harvest fruits and vegetables and bottle them for later consumption also known as "canning". We canned every year during my childhood so I was very aware of this practice. One morning my husband called me and asked me why I wasn't picking green beans with his mother so we could have bottled green beans. My initial thought was because it was early and I was still in bed and why would I bottle green beans when I didn't really like them that much. That isn't what I said because I heard his disapproving tone and didn't want him to be upset with me. I apologized, washed my face and joined his mother in the field to pick beans and proceeded to bottle them. I would can with her every season for many years after that. Mostly peaches and pears, which I truly enjoyed. That phone conversation was one of the first in my memory of when my husband criticized me as a person. I'm not 100% sure he used the word "lazy" but I think he did. I came away knowing that he was displeased with me because of my inability to work and it was a tone and story I had heard and felt before. The discomfort started then and over the next 11 years would escalate into full blown yelling matches.

Old habits and patterns appeared. When I heard my husband's truck, I would jump up from watching TV and find laundry to fold or dishes to wash or some kind of work to be doing so I would appear to be busy and escape the judgement. I waited for the verbal attack, for the displeasure or criticism. There was very limited time when my mind was at peace and the anxiety was in full swing. It showed within my body and mind. I can't say what it looked like on the outside, as I was working tirelessly to appear to be "put together". I'm sure it showed more than I thought and it makes me sad for my younger self as I look back at her. Every insecurity about being a good girl was in full force and while I desperately wanted to be June Cleaver, I felt nothing like her. I felt sad, dirty and alone.

Sesame Street held my sweet boy's attention, so we found ourselves indulging in all the characters. Cookie Monster was one of our favorites as he made our little boy giggle with delight. What a fun Christmas when we found a child size bentwood rocker that matched mommies. This is one of my favorite pictures of my sweet boy and is just how I remember those days.

But there was a new hope to grasp onto. I had a special relationship developing within me, my beautiful baby. I already loved my baby more than I could have ever imagined. I purchased the book "What to Expect when You're Expecting" and read it every day. I started imagining all the magical adventures we would go on, all the fun we would have. I was blessed to be expecting and couldn't wait for them to get to the world and into my arms. I was becoming a mother and it was the most important thing in the world to me. I was committed to being the best mom ever but was ill informed on how my childhood would impact how I mothered my kids. If there was a single wish I could be granted, it would be that I would have been able to go back and reparent my kids knowing what I know now. But I have a feeling every parent has that feeling to some extent. I believe I could have done a better job at living my values and showing them to my boys versus living in a reactive state and showing that to them.

In 1981 in rural Utah, ultra sounds were not used unless there was a medical issue to be dealt with which means we didn't know if we were having a girl or a boy. My husband was sure we were having a boy, so we decided on a boy name and I kept trying to come up with a girl name. We never did find one. My tummy grew as fall turned into winter. I was due January 21st and was grateful the holiday's took some of my attention away from the impatience I felt waiting for my sweet baby to make an appearance. Since my birthday was January 1st, I thought I'd get through the new year and then finalize all the preparations in the final 3 weeks of my pregnancy.

On new years eve, I started feeling uncomfortable and had a hard time enjoying our night out with friends. Then on my birthday, the discomfort continued and I told my mom I couldn't imagine how I could do this for another 3 weeks. She told me I would be fine and I tried to suck it up and enjoy my day. We went to my in-laws for dinner that evening and I couldn't eat anything. The pressure I felt was annoying and I struggled to sit still. Finally it dawned on me that I might be having contractions, more than the little ones you feel and I called the hospital to discuss it with them. They suggested I come in and get checked out so we headed to the hospital. On the afternoon of January 2nd, my beautiful baby boy was born and my journey as a mother began. He was beautiful and the thought of those early moments together brings tears to my eyes 42 years later. My heart grew in size that day and I've never been the same.

It was just me and him for the next 19 months until his brother would be born. I have limited memories of my husband during this time, but endless memories of being alone with my baby boy. He was my everything. Rocking him, feeding him, learning every detail of his sweet facial expressions, his noises, his smells. Yes, I suffered from all the exhaustion of being a new mother, but I knew it was part of the process and embraced it all. He grew the most adorable blonde curly hair. He grew into his lengthy limbs and his amazing smile brightened my every day. We lived in the 1 bedroom house for the first 8 months of his life, so I was busy keeping him peaceful so my husband could get a good nights rest. We spent many nights together in the green leather recliner we were gifted by my in-laws. My baby in my arms in that recliner was the first glimpse of heaven on earth I'd had.

We purchased my husband's brother's home a few blocks away and my son got his own room. We were officially a family, we owned our own home and my dream of being an amazing mother was in full swing. The joy of those days sit in my soul and I gather them up frequently to replay them. For brief moments, I found the peace I had never felt before and the love that we shared stirred something, somewhere deep within, the other memory of what God's love feels like. It was with my first born son, and later I'd feel the same way with my 2nd son, that my entire self was reminded of something I had lost with the trauma and that was that God loved me, just as He loved my beautiful sons. That spark would continue to ignite my inner knowing and is the driving force that would eventually bring me the healing and peace I needed. We all deserve this understanding and I'm so grateful to say today, I know He loves me and is always with me.