When I was Little

When I was little and I got sick my biological father would tell me to get over it.  To pick myself up and to go out and do stuff.  I don’t know how I managed to get up and do stuff. But I did somehow, despite feeling really ill. I remember when I was a young adult visiting my biological father, I became quite ill with the tummy bug (or it could have been the stress of seeing him) but I was so sick the toilet was my best friend. My biological father would have none of it and made me walk with him outside and I had to carry toilet paper with me because I was so ill and needed to be near the toilet. He made me feel ashamed for being sick. When I was little and I got sick my biological father would shout at me for being sick in the wrong place, at the wrong time and told to clean up my own mess. When I was little and I got sick he would tell me to find my own medication and make my own tea. When I was little and I got sick my biological father did not come near to me for fear he would get sick. When I was little and my brother and sister got ill they would come to me because they needed someone to look after them.  They did not go to my biological father for help. When I was little and I got sick my biological father made me feel guilty for being sick. When I was little and I got sick I was made to feel like I was a burden for being sick and wasting my his time with nonsense.

Yesterday I was ill.  Friday I was ill.  All week I have been battling a headache, and Friday it started really early. I couldn’t get to work. Saturday I woke at 2am with one of the worst migraines of my life. At least I think it was a migraine. I don’t know what came first – the migraine, the nausea, the vomiting, the dizziness. The vomiting lasted from 2am to 4 pm. The nausea lasted until about 4 pm and the migraine till the early hours of this morning. I still feel dizzy.  But whatever it was I wasn’t able to do anything yesterday. I must have slept for hours.  Drowning in and out of sleep. Feeling ashamed of myself for being sick. My (new) dad came to visit me and made a hot water bottle and sat next to me for a bit and prayed with me. My biological father never sat with me when I got ill.  My dad called the doctor with me to see if there was anything that could be done. The doctor prescribed some medication to take the nausea away. I was in so much pain yesterday I didn’t want to live through another day of this ridiculous pain. My dad prayed for me. And made sure I was comfortable and did all he could with making minimal noise. I was grateful for a reassuring presence. I was grateful that someone cared for me and yet so deeply ashamed for being so ill and so unable to do anything. Yesterday I was made not to feel ashamed for being sick, and was told not to get over it. Instead I got prayed over. My (new) dad was patient with me, and checked on me throughout the day. My biological father would never have done that for me.

Why I wonder? Why do some people get blessed with the most wonderful parents in the world? While others get trapped with not so nice parents? I can no longer compare my biological father to the person who I call dad now because they are so very different. One made me feel ashamed and made me feel like I was a worthless being, while the latter made me feel cared for, loved, and that I am worth it and that I am special even though I don’t understand it. I don’t deserve it.  Yet I was told it would be OK and that it will pass.  It makes me cry. It makes me feel sorry for the little girl that never got hugged as a child or who had to look after herself when she was young.  It makes me feel sorry for the little girl who was made to feel ashamed for being ill.  The little girl inside of me is hurting. She missed out on much and was made to feel shame beyond the deepest levels of shame. Shame seems to define her every waking moment. The fear of being disliked or rejected is something that is deeply ingrained inside of me. I wanted to crawl into my cave yesterday and not come out of it, but instead I didn’t. I was loved despite being sick. I wish that things could be different. I wish I could believe that I am a loved person. But there is so much hurt that needs to be unpacked and replaced with the truth of God.  There are so many lies that need to be replaced with the truth. I wish I could believe I am a worthwhile person. I wish I could believe that I am a loved person. I wish…

3 thoughts on “When I was Little

  1. Jesus said: No little sparrow falls down without the heavenly Father…
    How much is He suffering with all the little ones who suffer…and longing for that day when He himself will remouve all the tears from their faces and comfort them…
    and how much is He rejoicing whenever He sees that happen by His love among His children to one another


    • I too have dysfunction in my early years. Never hugged, never loved, shunted from place to place, a lot of instability, then the abuse suffered at various high schools. No one cared. I became an introvert. In my private world I dreamt of having friends and being loved. I dreamt that one day I would be a folk singer like Bob Dylan, that people would listen to me, as I had something unique to say. Becoming a Christian at age 26 was the start of the very long journey to wholeness. I think if we keep on journeying, learning, there is hope that we can come to terms with our past, accept it, embrace it (somehow) and rise about. Leave all the dross at the cross and be defined by our future, not our past.


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