Generational Trauma

My father was two very different people when he was drinking and when he was sober, I remember going on the train to Rural NSW for our vacation with just my father as he worked for the Railways and got discount travel. (Of course we had the economic vacation and not the fancy expensive plane flight or travel that my mother and sister indulged on) I remember there being some drunk guys on the train and were swearing and my father was enraged and spoke to the train driver and had them thrown off the train at the next station because of their behaviour on train in front of women and children.

My father played Rugby League due to some success and talent was scouted to Brisbane to play for a team in the city like anyone moving from a small country town to the big city the transition for my father I believe was a difficult one as I don’t recall him ever talking about the good memories of his move and he struggled with depression for a long time during his adult years. So for him to go home to Wagga to meet up with his football mates was the highlight of his year and he always spoke very fondly about his home town and regret of moving to Brisbane.

My mother followed my father to Brisbane after he left and began their life but we were always very isolated when come to being away from family as only other family was in NSW which meant a small network of friends of my parents for support and family connections. I have always felt a very sad disconnect that I never really had any connection with both my maternal and paternal grandparents or Aunties, Uncles and cousins, we were always the city kids when we came home and often I felt a segregation because of the strangers that we were within the family. He always wanted to return home however the lure and excitement of the big city had my mother trapped and she would always say that she would never go back home.

My grandparents were very strict religious catholic people and I was terrified of my grandmother, she was a primary school headmaster and would make us say the prayers and Rosary before meals and bed. They had religious paraphernalia everywhere and was a very stern faced unemotional woman and I had never a close nurturing relationship with her and I never remember her being loving or affectionate toward me. The only good memory I have was on her day that she baked and she made us cupcakes and it was such a treat from her. It is very sad to reflect on such a loss of connection and grief with grandparents and family and also highlights the trauma of generations passed that has been passed onto me by my bloodline that was evident in behaviours and relationships of my grandparents and other family members.

My father’s parents were always seen as not good enough by my mother’s standards, and there was no love lost between my father’s mother and my mother. I was always told that it was to do with Religion and that my mother was Catholic but I always felt that my mother had come from a very affluent and well to do family in Wagga and my father from a poor Protestant family and that the differences were a wedge between the two. I know that my father was very close to his mother and I was too on the couple of occasions I met her and she would write to me and I felt a very soulful connection to her. On the couple of occasions we would visit I would rarely see my grandfather and my father never spoke or would acknowledge his father on our very rare visits to his family home. Years later I was told that my paternal grandfather never once went to any of my dad’s football games and never interacted with him. This was again more evidence of generational trauma passed on that had such a significant impact on my life because of the hurt and deep pain that my father suffered.

On this trip with my father we stayed with my mother’s parents on a farm just outside of the city centre and I remember as a kid such a stark contrast from city to rural Australia farm life and even with the house, it was small home with extensions built of the main house to accommodate for growing family and so when we went home for holidays my sister and I would have to stay in like an extension off the main house that you had to go outside the main house and onto the veranda outside to get access too. It was very scary as a young child being isolated from adults in the main house and also being by myself as a young child, I think I was roughly around 6 years old from memory and my father slept in a room in the main house with my grandparents. I remember as a young child being terrified of being left by myself and getting very upset to the point of hysterical and terrified of the sounds and trees outside and farm animals much to the disgust of my grandparents.

I have such vivid memories of this holiday that I relived several times of my life which felt like a puzzle with so many missing pieces and to this day have such an emotional sense of sadness and betrayal that is so overwhelming. I remember because I was so scared of being outside that my father let me sleep in the house with him and in bed with him on return of his drunken nights out with his football mates to appease my relentless complaining. At the time and I never understood why there was such a dramatic commotion and scene the next morning when my mother’s parents caught me in bed with my father. For me it was normal, my father used to get kicked out of my mother’s bed many times when he was drunk and he would come into my bed late at night only for me to wake up and find him there so for me it was very normal.

I didn’t understand a lot of what was happening at the time because this was my life as I remember and normal and did not have any cause or concern to think anything different. What I became aware of years later in my late teens and early twenties that gravity of what this meant and was only a memory to me because this was the outing to others outside of my parents when the abuse was exposed. One of the huge betrayals for me and my disconnect with my maternal grandparents and family and the Catholic Church was the sin of others to sit back and do nothing once they become aware of what was really going on and this has been a long story for many victims of Childhood Sexual Abuse for many years. Also the betrayal and absolute failure of both of my parents to put their head in the sand and not think that they had a responsibility to me to clean up their mess.

One of the more difficult parts of doing this healing work with the Inner child for me has been the reflection in my adult brain is to unpack all of the trauma and abuse that I suffered as a very young child. At certain times I have had to disassociate myself from the belief that we are the same and it is easier to not connect to the child in this story as me. As I reflect on the strength and resilience in this younger me I am incredibly grateful for the spirit guides and angels who walked with me along the journey and if I wanted to say anything to this young me it would be really that that little girl was my true hero and the Wind beneath my wings.