Not strictly in order, but its come up today, and I need to figure it all out - so...
Growing up, I never ever spotted this - and I certainly didnt see it as abuse - but then, I didnt see anything as abuse.
There are a number of memories of things that have come up, relating to my physical needs, that weren't met, and worse still, were ignored.
Today, I was sitting down to dinner with W & M (the people who I live with, almost surrogate parents, that I have found at the ripe old age of 26). We were chatting about this and that, and some stories of their childrens school days came up. W is a nurse, and naturally, took a very caring roll - the kids were in boarding school, but they were their constantly ensuring that their kids were treated well, that issues were sorted, and that medical needs were met. She even ended up directing the school dr & nurse with reguard to an accident and her son having fractured his leg that no one had spotted.
This, is a stark contrast to my home life
The memory that came up, was one where I had sprained my ankle pretty badly on a friday night - it was literally black, and had swollen to the size of a large orange. I couldn't put weight on it, and I was in agony - yet, on Saturday morning, I got made to go up to music school - for the record, it was a journey alone, carrying bassoon, violin, recorders & music, on 3 trains (2 hours across london), and a 15 min walk either side. I spent from 6am- 9 pm carrying everything and having to walk on my ankle, no pain killers or anti-inflamatories, and needless to say I was not great when I returned home. My mum eventually looked at it, and went 'Oh, maybe we should have taken you to get some crutches - its too late now, never mind'.
I didnt even get a note for cross country that week - and had to stand infant of the entire year and show the teacher my ankle and plead to get out of it.
This was not the only time. I developed extremely bad repetitive strain injury on one of the many music courses I had to go on, and for 4 years, I struggled to wright, hold a cup, and was in constant agony. I developed extremely bad back issues, my shoulders were a mess (I think this is the years of carrying my bassoon, violin, recorders, music and school stuff a mile to school most days) I still had to practice many hours a day, and often spent so much time lying on the floor in agony in rehearsals that it became a running joke - I used to get a couple of ibuprofen from my gran, but other then that, no one would do anything. I asked repeatedly to go to the doctor, but all my mum said was that 'its pointless, they won't do anything', and that was that
Another memory, was when my jaw started dislocating. I have TMJ issues, and went through periods of time where my jaw would either lock so that i couldn't open it more then half an inch, or lock so that I couldn't close it, for months at a time. It was agony. It was grinding, clunking, my headaches became constant (I suspect the muscles were messed up from it), and I also couldn't help grinding my teeth in the night. Again, I asked to go to the dentist repeatedly, and my mum came up with the same response - 'they won't do anything, its a waste of money', and 'your granddads jaw does it all the time, don't worry about it'.
There are many more stories - my brother broke his leg, and my parents didnt take him to A&E until he'd been walking around on it for most of the day. In one way or another, it went on with most of us at some point.
So, I guess its no wonder that I don't consider my needs as important. I have spent most of my adult life not being given medical attention that I actually need - because I am so good at telling people I'm fine. The issues with my joints are only now being looked into, and even this is an uphill struggle - largely because I can't tell people when Im in pain, because 'I don't want to bother them'.
Its only tonight that I have quite put 2 and 2 together - am I right in thinking this was abuse or neglect in a different format?
or is this me being self involved to even be thinking it???
No comments:
Post a Comment