She had to.
She had to get out of this house, and the sooner the better. Maybe she could go live with her Aunt in Jersey. That was at least a quiet, safe place where she would feel safe and loved.
The Boundary Blurs. The way people’s behaviors are not acknowledged appropriately, and those responsible to not, well, take responsibility and bear out the consequences. Instead, the other members of the family are held hostage emotionally by it all. There are no boundaries and therefore no trust.
The CraZy mAkiNg. So many times, her family would act as if nothing just happened…no one was screaming, breaking things or running away. There was no shaming or name calling from her mother. Her father walking out. She felt so alone, feeling crazy…was she the only one who was upset? Who realizes how messed up this is? How scary, stressful and infuriating all at the same time? She wonders how the others can live like this and think it’s ok.
The Anxiety. When someone walks into the room or when she herself gets home, she never knows wat to expect. Will people be kind, happy or at least normal, or will there be an outburst, a blowup or worse. It never seems to take much for things to go south in minutes, so she finds herself always on guard, and never relaxing until she gets to school or to her friend’s house.
And…the Anger. She finds herself getting upset at silly things and not even understanding why. It’s really just grief anger unidentified and therefore unacknowledged and released in a vulnerable way…because being vulnerable in her home – well…
I say She because She could be anyone. And any one of us. Growing up with this kind of crazy sets up the PTSD on a low but profound level that will follow her the rest of her life…until she works on the healing.