I have my first official therapy session on Friday. It's going to be long term, not on the NHS, finally the help that is parmount to the rest of my life. I'm so lucky to be able to scrape by, but get the help I need at the age of 25.
A bit of background:
I dont know a huge amount from my #Childhood , apart from i was #abused (#neglect ) until about the age of 5 when I was #adopted . Even then I was showing signs of #Anxiety .....I wouldn't go with my perspective adoptive #Parents when they'd pick me up for a fun day out, to get to know them. I remember hiding under my foster home's dining table and refused to show my fac#E , frozen in fear at these strangers. I'm now missing from the photographs of those trips out, they were displayed on the wall of my adoptive parent's house for at least 10 years. The photographs show my younger biological brother and sister at the park with my adoptive parents, feeding the ducks like a familya, but I'm missing from them.
I don't think I formed any sort of bond with my biological parents, not anything positive anyway. And I can't remember my life before adoption. I believe there are crucial years to form an attachment to a child before it's too late, I'm no professional but I was adopted at 5 and never formed a bond with my new parents. I spoke to my thearpist last week (during my assessment) and she asked "were you close the your siblings growing up?". She asked this because I told her I didn't grow close to my parents. Even now, although I see the love my adoptive mother has over Facebook, our relationship feels artificial. "No, I actually felt like there was a great barrier between us" I admitted. "What about another family member, were you close to anyone else?", she enquired. "Hmmm, no" I stated. She explained to me that I was a very lonely child and young adult, a statement which shocked but resonated with me.
My adoptive mother was never really loving, we never shared a hug, a thought, a deep conversation, typical teenage advice and she never told me she loved me. Actually sometimes her words were quite cruel. When I was ill with my asthma she'd pretend she'd care infront of the doctor, but in private it seemed the opposite.
Then my adoptive father, he had the shortest fuse I'd ever known. The smallest of incoveneives would cause him to erupt and he would beat me until he calmed down. He was a monster, nothing could stop him. He'd kick, punch, bite and claw until he'd calm down. He'd even hit me with a plate and a stick once. My brother also bore the brunt of his anger. This went on until I left home at 18. I've returned to my 'home' 3 times in 7 years. I think my adoptive parents get offnede and try to convince me to return, they think that I'm a snob and too good for my North Eastern, working class routes. In actuality, I'm so scarred and damaged from those 18 years. But they don't see it. 18 years of abuse and sheer lonliness has escaped there undersranding.
In scared that therapy is too late.