The girl.
The girl sits in the playground, lost in a world of colours and drawing.
The children play around her, throwing ball, skipping, playing chasings and the girl is excluded from all of it. It’s okay though, she prefers it that way, she would rather that than the teasing.
Being alone is not so bad.
The bullying comes often and is sometimes just your garden variety, with name calling and horrible words spat in her direction but sometimes it is terrifying.
Sometimes the girl is so scared that she wishes she could curl up in a ball and disappear.
This has been one of those days.
This day the children have followed her around the school taunting her, chasing her with sticks, tripping her up, backing her into the bottom corner of the school, amongst the fire trees, their leaves so bright. They seem to jeer along with the pack. The boys hold her down, while the girls pull away her underwear because they want to see just how ‘fat’ her backside is. They kick her and spit on her, their angry faces distorted with hate for the girl, who they think they know but really do not. Their words are like arrows piercing her heart, shredding what is left of her feelings of self, leaving her naked to their discrimination. She closes her eyes, looking for solace in her own imagination but all she sees is her father, leering and hurtful and so she moves from her consciousness to a place where she feels nothing.
She is only seven years old.
It is the first time she has done this (or has a memory of it) and it feels strange but wonderful to be able to take herself away from the pain.
This will not be the last time the girl is hurt by ‘the bullies’ but it is the first that she has a tool to use against them.
The girl grows and changes and her views of the world remain the same. She is not perfect and she is damaged but what she has come to know as ‘the dead space’ has saved her from feeling bitter and sad with the humans that inhabit her life.
It has helped her through terrible times with her father and brother and now she needs it more than anything else to get her through the death of her son.
People look to her with angry eyes and their comments sting, just like the bullies’ all those years ago. She closes her eyes and wishes them away.
The only problem with being able to shut down like this is that she cannot disappear fully. When the night comes, dreams and nightmares and memories appear in front of her and lead her to a place of insomnia. The price of escaping confrontation and absolute stress is sleep.
Sleep is a comodity that the girl can trade for relief from the pain.
It is her way.
Four years on the girl needs to use the space again but for the first time she wonders how people see her when she is not fully there.
She wonders if she gives off the appearance of not caring enough.
She wonders if she should betray her soul and let the tears fall from her cheeks, the heavy heaves rack her heart and shoulders. She wonders if she should let the world see how much hurt she feels, wonders if it will make any difference or if opening herself to others will open her up to more pain than she can handle.
The few times she has stepped into this unchartered territory has felt alien and wrong and the retreat and silence, her saving grace. So, for now, this is how she copes with the challenges and the girl hopes, one day, people will understand.
Inspired by Fe’s post.
So, how do you cope with stressful situations?
Edited to add; Yesterday, when the doctor was on her third attempt at cannulating Ivy and she was begging me to have them stop, the nurse made a comment about me not seeming concerned about Ivy’s crying. It wasn’t that I didn’t care, it was that all I could do was hold her and take myself away, so as not to lose control completely. I do care. I was upset that they had to stick her three times but I had to be strong for Ivy and for me.
Oh my God. Oh my Tiff. My sweet, strong, brave Tiff. I love your heart. I love your mind. I love your strength and your courage. I love you. You are truly my hero. I will never understand a father and a brother who could do such things to a daughter, a sister, a child. But I understand you. I know how brave and strong you are. I know how much strength it took to write that. You’ll find nothing here but a *HUG*. Anytime you need one. Even when you don’t need one. And support. And understanding. That has to be the hardest thing a little girl could live through. I am so proud of you – that you came through all of that and out the other side to become the extraordinary woman, wife and mother you are. You are amazing.
Lou pinched my comment…
Oh darling, gorgeous woman what courage and strength you have to bare your soul and heart to us. I can only echo what lceel said
“I am so proud of you – that you came through all of that and out the other side to become the extraordinary woman, wife and mother you are. You are amazing.”
Hugs
Your words are painful but also eloquent.
I’m guessing this is your childhood story.
I’m sorry you went through all that.
The world is such a painful place–so much cruelty and abuse.
I wish that children who are abused today could know your story–know what you’ve become. Maybe it would give them hope. You can never escape the bad memories, but you can grow into something beautiful, loving, and amazing.
I so wish I had known about this at the time, but as you do now, you kept all that hurt & indignity bottled up inside. In hindsight, I don’t know what I would have done about it then, except to comfort you, support you & try to take away the hurt & pain. To this day, however, the question remains how an incident like this could happen without notice in a primary school playground. Where was the teacher who was supposed to be on playground duty? Sometimes when the hurt won’t go away, it helps just for a little while anyway, to bare your soul and shed an ocean of tears. Just know that as your mum, I am hurting for you and have done since you first told me of this. Your strength & sensitivity continue to inspire me & I am learning so much from the beautiful woman you’ve become. I am so proud to claim you as mine. Love, as always, Mum xxx
Dearest Tiff , if I could reach across the kilometres that separate us and through the screen I WOULD hug you and hold your hand. Thinking of you.
Tiff you constantly amaze me with your strength and tenacity.
This isn’t so beyond the realm of my life-experience. I have been bullied but never so severely – I have no wisdom of this magnitude.
Keep on digging deep Tiff because you are strong and wonderful. I am in awe of your poignant words. Bittersweet , overflowing with emotions.
Remember – Faith and Hope are eternal.
Have Faith in yourself. Hold fast to the knowledge you are now loved and respected beyond measure.
Hope – I hope and pray that your photography, your children and being able to share honestly and openly offer you some peace .
Your children are going to be incredible adults someday, owed mostly to your spirit and love.
HUGE (((HUGS))) I’m not as eloquent as the other commenters, but that really touched me. I can relate in some way, but that dead space is obviously what you need right now, who cares what the doctors think…. it’s not their child. They’re not there when shes always so sick!
Wow.
I’m unsure whether to respond to the power of the writing, or the emotion of the event. It’s amazing how these things hurt and stay within us always.
My first time here, via Roaming Aussie Mum
xx
You are beautiful, oh so beautiful.
I walked away to try and compose an appropriate comment in my head but I remain
speechless. You are amazing in so many ways!
I walked away to try to compose an appropriate comment in my head but I remain
speechless. You are amazing in so many ways!
You have been dealt far too much pain and suffering in this life.
I can’t tell you how much I admire what you’ve endured with such grace and courage. And how pleased I am that you and your family are in my life. xx
Words just… I… ok you’ve got me speechless here honey!
((((huge massive hugs and lots of love))))
All of this anguished memory and feeling brought forth by one insensitive comment by one insensitive nurse who should have known better. Of course she doesn’t know your history, but to comment to you (or anyone) that you don’t seem to care about the crying of your child? That’s so wrong of her. Next time (hopefully there won’t be a next time) tell the nurse that of course you care, but you don’t want to further upset Ivy by getting upset (visibly) yourself. Or just straight out say “That’s a little insensitive of you. Of COURSE I care. I’m just barely holding myself together….”
Tiff, my heart just cried for you reading what you’ve written. Please don’t ever let anyone make you feel that your coping mechanism is wrong or warped. How insensitive was that nurse, or the people in your past that have treated you like you’re heartless or devoid of emotion. You’re not, you’re simply the most inspiring woman I think I’ve ever met.
Nobody that has ever been around you and is aware of the heartbreak that you’ve been dealt in your life should ever question your love and devotition to your children and family. {{{{{{hugs honey}}}}} I hope you can feel the love, care and admiration from all of your friends & readers.
OMG, no words. Just goosebumps, a few tears and some heartache for you.
I don’t know what else to say, other than we all do what we need to to get through those awful, gut-wrenching moments with our kids. Nobody should ever judge another’s reaction to these situations. EVER.
You are an amazing women Tiff. Every day & every post you make just makes me think even more of you.
It isn’t very often that I am speechless. I had no idea. And I can’t even begin to imagine. As for the nurse, who’s insensitive and totally uncalled for comment dredged all this up for you? Well, I can only hope that she is repaid in kind at some point in the future.
For now, I hope writing this eloquent, emotially charged piece has helped you get rid of some of the pain of it.
Tiff, oh my g-d. I wish I could just hug you right now. I’m sorry. It’s not fair, it’s not right. I wish you’d never had to discover that dead space. You’re paying the price for someone else’s wrongdoings.
A family friend once asked me the same thing the nurse asked you in reference to my son’s crying. (He screamed the first three months of his life, nonstop.) I had no idea what to say. Of course it bothered me. I just didn’t have anything left in me to deal with it. So I retreated. Became a robot. Sometimes you have to. But I guess it looks strange from the outside.
*hugs*
This is why you are a fantastic mother.
When being interviewed for Radiothon this year the interviewer asked me how you “deal with” the pain of a situation like Kyleigh’s. My response… “some days you don’t”… and that is the truth. I totally and completely understand being lost in your own head. It doesn’t make us crazy… it makes us mature. We know that for ourselves and for our kids we must be strong and we save our weak times for when no one is watching. It is the plight of a mother. Especially the mother of a sick child…. My heart aches for you Tiff… to know that there are others going through a life that is as hard as my own… That would make some feel better to know that they are not alone but for me… it makes me hurt. I truly wish that NO ONE else in the world ever had to feel the pain that WE feel as mothers.
My therapist told me the other day… “Do you realize you are angry?” REALLY? Ya think? I have no idea why I could be angry! Her response “well I guess that is the first thing we need to work on…” I get the feeling we might be working for a while. LOL
Huge hugs to you my dear!
Amber
http://family.kentuckystudio.com
I don’t know if there is a right comment to make. My heart goes out to you now and the girl you were then.
to the update: You do what you have to do to be strong for your kids and obviously you are being strong for Ivy. What a courageous and compassionate mom you are!
I am listening
I have tears
btw You are right, you need to be strong for Ivy and for yourself in situations such as that. I believe you are a wonderful mum, I bet your kids do to.
HUGS
I have been a reader for a few weeks, but am still trying to get through your archives to understand you better. This I had to comment on.
I am sorry you have to be so strong. I am sorry that you have had to find a way to retreat from reality just to keep living. You do not deserve this. It is not just. But, you know this, I’m certian.
I remember when I to get our daughter’s blood drawn when she was just 18 months old & the nurse yelled at me because I was crying when they made me hold her down. I was outraged. Not even 1/10th of what you have had to endure, I know. But if that sucked just an eensy bit, well.
I don’t know if you know the song, “It’s Only Love That Gets You Through” by Sade, but I was hearing it as I read this post.
If you are my austrailian reader, please let me know. I’m flattered if you are.
Blessings
Hi,
My name is Tammy and I am the managing editor over at http://www.5minutesforspecialneeds.com.
I was hoping that you might be interested in writing for us.
Shoot me an email and I will firm up the details with you.
Looking forward to hearing from you!
That girl is so beautiful. The soul that inhabits that girl’s body is so bright with love and light, those bullies wanted nothing more than to steal it for themselves. I hope that girl can find solace somewhere in this life and find a reason to believe that all humanity is not evil.
Personally, I never found the space where I could feel nothing. I was present for it all. I’ve let the tears fall and they hardly stop.
Powerful stuff. Thanks for being brave enough to share it. I’m so sorry you went through such a painful childhood. I am glad that you survived it. Also, I would write that nurse a letter to let her know that her insensitivity was unprofessional. Grrrr.
I’d have to say that I handle such times quite like you, Tiff. I don’t exactly remember when I discovered that black vacuous space deep inside, perfect for stuffing pain, perfect for hiding from the world.
I cried through your post. Then I read your edit and cried harder. I remember reading in my daughter’s chart during her second of many stays in the hospital. I guess it didn’t occur to them that I might.
We had just survived a similar ordeal. Twelve sticks before they hit a vein. Worse then sticks — more like excavations. She was four weeks old and on a vent. She couldn’t cry. Couldn’t scream. She just looked at me with those bottom-of-the-ocean blue baby eyes as they filled with terror and tears rained from their corners. I helped hold her down. Whispered poems in her ear as I stared out the window wondering if it mightn’t be better if we could both just die. Later that evening, I read the nurses note in her chart — “Mother seemed detached and unconcerned by child’s obvious discomfort…”
I’ve learned that some people are completely incapable of empathy, Tiff. I hope there is some solace in knowing that some people are though, me for one.
Hugs,
Michelle
Oh my God, I have no idea how to begin to express how much this post moved me. My teasing in primary school was pretty intense too and some of this brought back some painful memories, of awful cruel taunts about my dying brother, my “retard” uncle, and my ugly, ugly face, and of frequent physical abuse that the school did nothing to stop. My salvation was that I had a safe haven at home – my home was a warm and loving place, even though it was often sad because of my brother’s illness, and both my parents were kind, loving, and supportive of me. I never told them what school was like for me because I didn’t want to worry them further as they dealt with my brother’s illness, and I explained away bruises (and my fractured pinky finger) as the result of falls and accidents.
Actually, that fractured finger was a blessing in disguise – inflicted near the end of grade 4 by a huge bully twisting my hand to try to make me touch a caterpillar (of which I was terrified), the seriousness of the injury unnerved the bullies a bit and they mostly left me alone after that, afraid of consequences I guess. And then my brother died in grade 5 and I just felt so absent emotionally that the total lack of response to their verbal taunts made them get bored. Grade 6 was peace for me, the only year of primary school that I did not dread waking up every morning. And high school was actually quite good, I went to a different school to my primary peers and settled in pretty well. But … the hell that is primary school bullying never, never, never left me. And now that my eldest is in school, I am watching like a HAWK for the smallest sign of it. I will not will not WILL NOT tolerate for her any semblance of what I went through.
dear dear Tiff,
inspite of all you have had to face………..you are a wonderful person…..inside and out.
I have seen the love that shines from you and your family.
You are one fabulous lady and I am thrilled to be able to call you my friend.
massive hugs