Below you can find another chapter from the book Thank you, mum. I hope it touches your heart.
(For the Swedish version, scroll down and then select Next post.)
From my
early childhood, I can remember our Friday and Saturday evenings full of
laughter, fun and frolics. But as the hours passed and more wine was consumed,
painful memories seemed to come flooding back and invariably resulted in tears.
You had so much baggage to work
through; rape, mistreatment by doctors that lead to a stoma and years of other
traumas. You were young during a time when visiting therapists or counsellors
was not the done thing. Instead, you coped with your demons by simply letting
them out at weekends. Using the wine to open the floodgate and using Dad as the
gatekeeper, your demons came out to play. Dad did his best, trying to kill them
off, he wanted nothing more than to take on your pain so you didn’t have to
suffer.
I saw your pain, heard your cries
and had absolutely no idea what to do. What can a little girl do when her Mum
is sad and there seems to be no end to the agony? I chose to become an ice
princess; chose to ignore or avoid anything to do with emotional reactions or
tears. It certainly had its advantages. No one can get to you if you’re an ice
princess, no matter how hard they try. Teasing someone who doesn’t react is not
much fun and really getting to someone who’s not bothered is impossible. I
turned invincible and mastered the skill of silencing irritating people with a
sharp, icy stare.
When you eventually sought professional
help, it wasn’t professional. The counsellors you talked to weren’t adequately qualified
or experienced. When you told them your story, they were taken aback and said
these were difficult issues, not their usual remit. I am pleased I managed to
find a psychologist, who could help you to at least make a start in the right
direction. He was a tutor of mine from Chalmers University and I had studied
his leadership course. When you started to suffer from depression, I rifled
through my old papers and found his name. You visited him and he helped you,
even though the depression didn’t disappear, at least it took a break. Not even
the true professionals can kill off other people’s demons.
Thank you for trying to cope with
them and manage them. Thank you for giving me a reason to be an ice princess
for a couple of decades. Thank you to me for letting her melt, one icicle at a
time. Thank you to me for learning how to let my emotions out instead of
bottling them up and wedging them inside my body like heavy boulders. I let myself miss you, I let my grief and loss pour out and wash over me. Like a surging wave that
comes and goes. The kind of wave you wanted to protect me from when I was a
child. Waves I protected myself from by turning them into ice. Rolling ripples
I now dare to embrace; I let them come and I let them go.
I have learned that, after a surge
of grief, a calmer sea will follow. A tranquil, mirror-like surface, glittering
with the beautiful memories I have of you.
**
Please share this blogpost if you think it can help someone!
This was a chapter from the book Thank you, mum. A book for those who miss someone.
To read the first chapter, go to this post. To get a notification by mail when a new chapter is posted, click here.
If you would like to give the book to someone you think can be soothed by it, or to yourself, you can find it on Amazon on any of the links below, or you can search for it on your Amazon of choice.
Amazon in the Netherlands (if the price of the paperback is higher than about 17 euros, check out another market)
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