My recent excerpt helped sister Laura remember and heal from her own experience.
The following was sent to me in response to my recent posting, “It’s a sad day when a kid feels like home is a prison and unsafe place to be.”
Stephen,
I am so very sad on reading this. I felt this way about our so called
parents most of my life, especially Mother didnt care for me, and how
relieved she seemed to be when I left at 17 years old. I was so very
lonely and scared always as a teen especially when we moved from
so.cal to of all the miserable places, Tacoma Washington!! What a
terrible place it was for this southern Cal. beach kid!! I hated that
7 years of my life so much, as I became the victim of our parents
misery!!! My Big brothers were so far away; they were not there to protect
me. Children should never have to live in such a toxic enviorment as
we had to. We didnt deserve this.
I remember how it seemed to me that Dad was much more abusive of you
then Dan. Mother would step in and protect Dan. She didnt seem to care
about me as much either. Mother blamed me for Dads abuse of me.
I don’t call Mother while she has been in Hospice. I like just showing
up in person to surprise her, This is the only time in my whole life
that she has shown real love and appreciation towards me.
I was amazed and grateful when Mother asked for me on her “death bed”.
I wish the rest of our siblings would become involved in a positive
matter with this healing journey into the history of our family.
Because of Mother and Dad, I am who I am today.
Denial and resentments are dangerous for me. Denial and resentments
threaten my “emotional sobriety”, and are toxic to my recovery.
I have been so emotionally caught up in protecting my grandson from a
toxic, dangerous childhood. This disease must not continue into
another generation. I believe I am responsible to change so it will
not continue. Besides, I promised my grandson Dakotah a healthy, safe
and happy childhood as long as I live.
Love,
Your sister Laura
It’s a sad day when a kid feels like home is a prison and not a secure place to be.
Romance in Hawaii as a young sailor and surf dude was the best treatment for PTSD symptoms.
The following excerpt from my book, Reconciliation, A Son’s Story, reminds me of the wonders and excitement of romance in Hawaii.
More often than not I raced down to Waikiki to be with her for a few hours during 12 hour breaks. I didn’t want to miss a moment to spend with Sheryl. She was absolutely the best thing that happened to me during my Navy experience in Hawaii. Even surfing took a back seat for awhile. Sleeping became less of a priority as well. Love clearly releases an abundance of energy in a young man. I was already a skinny dude and probably lost another 10 lbs during this high energy period. This experience simply took my breath away.”
Can the symptoms of PTSD cause amnesia?
The following excerpt from my book, Reconciliation, A Son’s Story demonstrates how a traumatic condition might wipe out a person’s memory of certain events.
Reference:
Following service in the Viet Nam War from September 1976 to September 1977, Coucal operated from her home port at Pearl Harbor, mainly supporting submarine training. Coucal was decommissioned at Pearl Harbor. In April 1990, ex-Coucal was sunk in the first PACFLT test of a Tomahawk anti-ship missile, fired from USS Chancellorsville (CG-62). reference: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/USS_Coucal_(ASR-8)
Even if painful, keeping memories alive with family and friends is healing.
Following is an excerpt from my book, Reconciliation, A Son’s Story. The stories of family history came together mostly from discussions with my father, Vernon H. Sparks. So far, few records have been located to develop the stories further and to verify facts.
“My dad talked fondly of his childhood, especially times on his grandparents farm in the Red River Valley in North Dakota. He loved this time as a child the best. His grandmother was Native American, and grandfather was from the old country. He rode horses, hunted, fished, and worked hard. His grandparents were highly respected and well off at the time. Their three sons, including my grandfather Art, all had their life challenges and success eluded them for the most part. Except for Uncle Harry, who took his inheritance and bought a farm in Ascov, Mn. Uncle Bob Sparks died of alcohol poisoning, alone and mostly homeless. Grandpa Art passed away in his mid 60’s of a heart condition and alcohol, basically a poor and unhappy man. My grandmother Mildred lived well into her 80’s and had mostly close relationships with her children and grandchildren. I didn’t see much of any of them after joining the Navy. I have recently reconnected with my cousins and surviving aunts from both sides of the family while doing research for this story and to retrace my roots. My daughter, Bianca, and her family recently moved to Eden Prairie, Mn giving me more motivation to find my way back and to share family roots with Bianca and grandkids, Joey and Jordan. Another effect of my own PTSD condition was to ignore where my family lived and roots, sharing hardly anything with my children until recently. Discussions about my own parents have been limited to negative references for the most part, leaving my kids with a feeling that they didn’t want anything to do with my family. I take full responsibility for this behavior, and intend to make it up by writing this story and sharing my family history with my own family for the rest of my time.”