The ramblings of an abused kid (trigger warnings galore)

[GoSlash27]

And *now* I'm worried.
 I have all of my memories intact going all the way back to age 1. These memories of age 3 haven't been erased like they should've been. They're still in there under wraps, waiting to burst forth.
 And now that I know what happened, they will begin to flood out.
 15 months worth.

[GoSlash27]

 Disturbing snippets from the file...

" 7/8/74 (Slashy) has either a hearing problem or is mentally slow. (redacted) is uncertain, but believed he was to be tested for evaluation (redacted) did not know where testing was to be done."
 How awful was my experience that they found me in that state?? I would have to have been catatonic!!

" 8/21/74 According to to Mrs. Homind at Lawnvue Acres, (Slashy) is also doing very well. There has been no bed- wetting with (Slashy), although, as with other children who were out of diapers, he has awakened once or twice in the night and taken to the potty. He seems to be in good health and is toilet trained. (Slashy) speaks a great deal, and he is difficult to understand."
 My clear baritone delivery and deliberate, perfectly clear diction was a hallmark of 2 year old Slashy. My dad used to relate the stories of me doing it and I remember it vividly from my end. "Daddy? I didn't say I was thirsty, I said I was hungry". I was so messed up I had a speech impediment??   

"This case became known to CWS when (mother) abandoned her children and (father) took over their care and placed the children in his home under the care of (Miss Pat), a long time client of CWS whose children had all been placed by CWS, all but one in institutions. This was a very inappropriate placement which occurred in approximately September of 1974."

 I have exactly one evening's memory of Miss Pat, which I have related previously. Yes. "Inappropriate" is putting it mildly.

[GoSlash27]

 And so the new timeline is as follows:
 -Everything correct up until hiding in the motel.
 -Mom ended up imprisoning/ neglecting us in a 2 bedroom apartment.
 -Mom abandoning us with a good caretaker
 -Caretaker can't afford to keep us, gives us to CWS.
 -I arrive in the shelter (McIntyre/ Lawnvue Acres) catatonic, then with a speech impediment.
 -Released to the care of my father and grandmother
 -Grandmother falls ill, left in the care of "Miss Pat". Abuse.
 -Bounced between mother (neglect/ imprisonment) and "Miss Pat" (abuse).
 -Abandoned by mother, left with Miss Pat.
 -CWS called.
 -Subsequent timeline correct, but a year out of date. McIntyre Shelter, Foster home, reunited with mother, brother, and grandmother.

 Everything in orange was edited out, the ends spliced together.

[NarcKiddo]

(Slashy) speaks a great deal, and he is difficult to understand.

There is an alternative interpretation, Slashy, which is that the content was difficult to understand as opposed to the delivery. It is possible that you were referencing things they knew nothing about or did not make sense to them at the time? Or that as you came out of the catatonic state you arrived in your content was jumbled? Just throwing this in there in case it helps as you work through this.

Sending you love and support as you process all of this.

[TheBigBlue]

Reading this, I want to share something from my own history - not to compare or interpret, just to put it alongside.

I was also mislabelled as mentally retarded and speech-impaired as a child, and I was hospitalized for enuresis (bedwetting) at age 8. Those labels were treated as facts, not as questions. No one paused to ask what was happening to me, or whether I was okay.

Today, I'm high-functioning - I'm a professor - and when I finally understood what happened to me, including the harm those labels and interventions caused, I grieved deeply. Not just for the pain itself, but for the absence of curiosity, care, or protection. The failure wasn't in me; it was in a system that explained symptoms instead of listening to a child.

I don't have a neat conclusion. I just wanted to name this here, because what you wrote touched that place very clearly for me.
(if that's okay)

[GoSlash27]

 I tracked down my foster parents' house back in 1975 and was able to see it from street view. 
 That was the first place where I felt safe and loved since "Hingepin Manor". My heart just about burst seeing it again!

 And now I'm off to '80s throwback night. cheesy '80s movie with poutine, then roller disco.

 I'm spending the rest of this day happy in the moment.

 

[GoSlash27]

(Slashy) speaks a great deal, and he is difficult to understand.

There is an alternative interpretation, Slashy, which is that the content was difficult to understand as opposed to the delivery. It is possible that you were referencing things they knew nothing about or did not make sense to them at the time? Or that as you came out of the catatonic state you arrived in your content was jumbled? Just throwing this in there in case it helps as you work through this.

Sending you love and support as you process all of this.

 NarcKiddo,
 Thanks. I pondered this subject just this morning and it dawned on me: I really *did* talk very differently after the jump-cut. At age 2, I spoke like my father. Deep voice for a child, slow, deliberate pace with careful enunciation, and a pretty advanced vocabulary. Afterwards, I spoke like a 3 year old when I was 4. By the time I hit 5 I was speaking like my old self again.
 It was all because of the imprisonment/ neglect/ abuse/ abandonment from my mother in the first 6 months. I don't know *how* it screwed up my speech, but it did.

 Best,
-Slashy
 

[HannahOne]

So glad you got to see an image of your foster parents' house! Hooray for happy in the moment!

[GoSlash27]

Trigger warning.

My baby sister just had her first flashback last night. I was relating to her the environmental details of our shared captivity from my perspective. The color of the walls in my room, items, the layout of the kitchenette and bathroom, etc.
 That's when it happened. She became distressed and started blurting out additional details from her perspective. She suddenly remembered it. "Oh God, no!"
 
 It mirrored her experience of inadvertently triggering *my* first flashback 3 years ago.

 Her trauma during that period was similar to my own. Better in some ways, worse in others.
 It affected me deeply enough to cause complete dissociative withdrawal and speech regression. She was already deaf, so it's difficult to judge the impact on her.
 
 The effect on my older brother was the worst. He hadn't fully dissociated like we had. He carried the scars of those experiences with him throughout childhood. We went to kinder environments, he bounced around in the system with learning, anger, and behavioral problems.

 He remembered all of it the entire time, and that's what ultimately broke him. 

[GoSlash27]

Reading this, I want to share something from my own history - not to compare or interpret, just to put it alongside.

I understand. No explanation necessary. 
 Best,
-Slashy

[GoSlash27]

 My memories from the locked down period have been releasing over the past couple days. Yes, I definitely had a speech impediment at LawnVue and yes, I can handle the memories.

 I will need some DBR and talking it out, but it's not overwhelming.

 My first remembered experience at LawnVue was when I was sitting in my crib (low set, kinda cheap Ikea faux ash), trying to explain to my caregiver that I did not need a diaper because I was already potty trained. I genuinely had difficulty speaking properly and much of it came out as "babble".
 She was very kind and attentive and put in real effort to understand me.
 She showed me where the bathroom was and I demonstrated that I knew how to use it unsupervised.
 Later, I was able to communicate that I didn't like having the rails on my crib up and she left it down for me. I could crawl out of my crib at night and go to the potty without assistance, but I needed assistance to get back in my crib. I never wet my bed or fell out.
 Thankfully there was no door to my wing. I think they understood that many of the kids coming to them had a negative reaction to closed doors.

 I also have a couple of memories of my dad's place in Avalon. I was not transported directly to Marchand St. from foster care, for a couple of months I lived in another place. Enormous double storefront under renovation. We slept upstairs and the main living area was the left storefront. The right was under renovation. Dusty, full of floorboards and nails behind a door with frosted glass windows.
 I did not remember my brother when we were reintroduced. He showed me where everything was. He had an enormous area in the left- hand storefront area with toys and a big wheel.
 My dad was there and also another woman I called "Miss Robin". I must research her. Mom and Miss Robin were usually in the back of the left storefront. Immense kitchen area.
 My mom took me and my brother to Marchand St. to live with my grandmother and that's where my "normal" memory (such as it is) resumed.
 I also remember leaving there with my dad one morning. Just the two of us. I don't remember where we were going.