hobgoblinn (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
hobgoblinn) wrote2006-10-26 10:21 am
hobgoblinn) wrote2006-10-26 10:21 am
Entry tags:
Happy Belated St. Crispin's Day
Been in a funk for the past couple of days, and just now realized why. PTSD is such fun. And yesterday was an anniversary date of sorts, and that always hits me, even if I'm not consciously aware of it.
In many of life's battles, there's a definite End date: date a divorce was final, or last court hearing, or date a judgement was rendered.
In my case, things went on for several years, before more than one judging entity. And each new round was -- I don't know. Words fail me, to convey just how bad it was. And of course, I was going to lose, because that's what you Do when faced with monsters so much bigger and stronger than you, and because everyone with experience observing these matters told me that's what would happen. And they were almost right, there.
But I carried on, and I kept showing up and doing what I needed to do to prove myself a good mom, and a dignified human being worthy of respect, even if I was seldom offered recognition of either. And to give myself a burst of courage before heading off "Once more into the Breach," I would watch Ken Branagh's Henry V, the night before, or selected scenes in the morning before the latest round of torture. And these lines resonated with me:
I have four sons, and one daughter. One son I shall in all likelihood never see again. One lives with me. The other three children I get to see every three months, theoretically, but it's working out to every 6 and I'm lucky to get that. Nothing forces an adoptive parent to allow contact between birth siblings, much less birth parents. Next visit has finally been scheduled for November 11th. I last saw them in April.
Anyway, so yesterday was St. Crispin's day. And it was also CPR training, and that brought back a first aid situation a couple of weeks ago, where one of my co workers had a seizure and I was the only one why knew what to do and did it, calmly and efficiently, until the crisis was past-- just like I have handled just about every crisis in my life, from going with my mom to set in motion an involuntary commitment of my stepfather, before his preoccupation with weapons and people following him ended on the front pages of the local paper with our deaths, to kids needing stitches, to meeting a child at the hospital because he drank some lamp oil while Dad wasn't watching, to going to court for hours and days and weeks on end to listen to lies which were largely believed, to watching my husband and best friend turn into an irrational monster not unlike my stepfather, then back, time and again, always assuring me that his verbal and emotional outbursts-- none of which rose to the level of criminal, that I saw-- would never happen again... Trauma has a cumulative effect-- small things can trigger all the previous stuff. And when one of my friends asked me Why I was so jumpy yesterday, it took me a little while to figure out why.
But sitting with my small son reading A Wrinkle in Time last night, and singing through the Lux Aeterna, and yes, a well deserved Murphy's Stout with dinner, all helped get me back to myself.
Next year, I shall have a feast on the vigil. I don't know if I shall ever tell my son the whole of the story, though he knows some and has guessed more-- he's very intuitive, like his Mom. One thing I have taught him-- you never give up. Even if you are going to lose, there's honor in the attempt. And every once in a while you do win. Maybe he doesn't appreciate that just now, in his grounded and being forced to do boring homework state. But someday, he will.
Think I'll download some music to match my mood. Still don't have the Lux Aeterna, but will get it Sunday. But here's some more courage and hope music:
[link has expired: Was the battle track, and "The Day is Yours" from Henry V, and I forget what two Rutter pieces]
Two are from the Henry V soundtrack, with the theme that has always kind of embodied courage for me. Two are Rutter pieces that never fail to lift me up. I've never sung either, but would like to. Sadly, Robert Porco of the May Festival is not a big Rutter fan. And James Conlon is more interested in opera, and 19th century Romantic stuff, with all the big orchestra fireworks. Rutter's a bit too tame for his tastes. But it'll be a while before I'm back with them, so maybe some smaller community chorus will do some of this, sometime, and let me sit in. That would be cool.
Hope everyone is having a good day. I am, now.
Hob
In many of life's battles, there's a definite End date: date a divorce was final, or last court hearing, or date a judgement was rendered.
In my case, things went on for several years, before more than one judging entity. And each new round was -- I don't know. Words fail me, to convey just how bad it was. And of course, I was going to lose, because that's what you Do when faced with monsters so much bigger and stronger than you, and because everyone with experience observing these matters told me that's what would happen. And they were almost right, there.
But I carried on, and I kept showing up and doing what I needed to do to prove myself a good mom, and a dignified human being worthy of respect, even if I was seldom offered recognition of either. And to give myself a burst of courage before heading off "Once more into the Breach," I would watch Ken Branagh's Henry V, the night before, or selected scenes in the morning before the latest round of torture. And these lines resonated with me:
He that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbors,
And say 'Tomorrow is Saint Crispian:'
Then will he strip his sleeve and show his scars.
And say 'These wounds I had on Crispin's day.'
Old men forget: yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember with advantages
What feats he did that day...
This story shall the good man teach his son....
I have four sons, and one daughter. One son I shall in all likelihood never see again. One lives with me. The other three children I get to see every three months, theoretically, but it's working out to every 6 and I'm lucky to get that. Nothing forces an adoptive parent to allow contact between birth siblings, much less birth parents. Next visit has finally been scheduled for November 11th. I last saw them in April.
Anyway, so yesterday was St. Crispin's day. And it was also CPR training, and that brought back a first aid situation a couple of weeks ago, where one of my co workers had a seizure and I was the only one why knew what to do and did it, calmly and efficiently, until the crisis was past-- just like I have handled just about every crisis in my life, from going with my mom to set in motion an involuntary commitment of my stepfather, before his preoccupation with weapons and people following him ended on the front pages of the local paper with our deaths, to kids needing stitches, to meeting a child at the hospital because he drank some lamp oil while Dad wasn't watching, to going to court for hours and days and weeks on end to listen to lies which were largely believed, to watching my husband and best friend turn into an irrational monster not unlike my stepfather, then back, time and again, always assuring me that his verbal and emotional outbursts-- none of which rose to the level of criminal, that I saw-- would never happen again... Trauma has a cumulative effect-- small things can trigger all the previous stuff. And when one of my friends asked me Why I was so jumpy yesterday, it took me a little while to figure out why.
But sitting with my small son reading A Wrinkle in Time last night, and singing through the Lux Aeterna, and yes, a well deserved Murphy's Stout with dinner, all helped get me back to myself.
Next year, I shall have a feast on the vigil. I don't know if I shall ever tell my son the whole of the story, though he knows some and has guessed more-- he's very intuitive, like his Mom. One thing I have taught him-- you never give up. Even if you are going to lose, there's honor in the attempt. And every once in a while you do win. Maybe he doesn't appreciate that just now, in his grounded and being forced to do boring homework state. But someday, he will.
Think I'll download some music to match my mood. Still don't have the Lux Aeterna, but will get it Sunday. But here's some more courage and hope music:
[link has expired: Was the battle track, and "The Day is Yours" from Henry V, and I forget what two Rutter pieces]
Two are from the Henry V soundtrack, with the theme that has always kind of embodied courage for me. Two are Rutter pieces that never fail to lift me up. I've never sung either, but would like to. Sadly, Robert Porco of the May Festival is not a big Rutter fan. And James Conlon is more interested in opera, and 19th century Romantic stuff, with all the big orchestra fireworks. Rutter's a bit too tame for his tastes. But it'll be a while before I'm back with them, so maybe some smaller community chorus will do some of this, sometime, and let me sit in. That would be cool.
Hope everyone is having a good day. I am, now.
Hob