Thoughts from my boy

I’ve been wondering how best to write this post. Truth to tell, I’ve been wondering how to survive the writing of this particular post. It’s difficult and throws up trauma – and this goes as a warning to readers that it may not be suitable for you to read either. If you’re easily affected by other’s traumatic experiences, then it may be best for you to skip this one. To be clear – I am not talking about physical, bodily abuse of Alex by anyone else.

I’m going to try and share some of Alex’s life from Alex’s perspective. I won’t be able to do it full justice as Alex can’t share his thoughts and feelings with me as others can. He tries – and often he manages to tell me these things intuitively. So Alex, I’m sorry if I got it wrong, and I’m really sorry I didn’t get the message much, much earlier.

I’m tired and just want to sleep. I like being able to sleep and escape from everything – I’m not overwhelmed when I’m in dreamland. Sometimes dreamland can be scary, but at least I understand things better there. But there’s that voice, “Good morning, Alex, time to get up” just like it is every morning. And the bright light from the ceiling makes my eyes sore and I just want to hide away for a little bit longer. But they’ve taken my blanket away, just like they do every morning. Why can’t I just snuggle into my blanket for a tiny bit longer? Why do they always have to turn the light on and rip my blanket away when they say “good morning”? Why can’t someone sit with me, and gently rub my back and tell me good morning like Mummy used to do?

They’ve given me my clothes, although I really wish I could have worn a less scratchy shirt today. And the food I was allowed to eat for breakfast is making my tummy a bit sore, but I don’t know how to tell them. Today is not a ‘free day’ – I have to sit at the table and do ‘work’. They smile at me and tell me what a great job I’m doing, how I’m really clever, and she gives me a tickle when I’ve done what they wanted me to do. But it’s so hard, having to sit still for so long, and not being able to look out the window or walk around the room when my legs are screaming out at me that they have to move now. Oops, I moved. They’ve taken everything away from me again and I’m not allowed to have any of my toys or things that make me feel good anymore. I’m sorry for being bad, I didn’t mean to be bad, please don’t make me feel this way. I’ll be good, I promise!

I love watching this show. I know exactly what happens and it’s not scary when I know what happens. I know that I’m going to be excited at the next bit and I can jump up and off the couch just like the man on TV is jumping off the boat. Whee, I did it – just like the TV. Wait, don’t turn it off! Please don’t stop the TV, I really like this next bit, it’s funny and it makes me feel good inside, please let me watch it! I’m sorry for being bad and not sitting on my chair like a good boy, I’m sorry for pulling at you to put the TV back on. Look, I’m sitting ‘nice and quietly’ now, please, please, please let me watch TV again, please?

I can hear a knock at the door. That means there’s someone here. Maybe more than one someone. Are they coming to make noises outside? Are they coming to take away my toys or my KloudSac? I can’t live without my KloudSac, it’s how I feel safe and I need my KloudSac, but maybe I’m not allowed to have it anymore because I’ve been bad? It’s two people and everyone is talking. They’re talking about me, saying things about me. I don’t like it when they’re always talking about me – I’m right here, why are you talking about me all the time? Are you saying that I’ve been bad and you are going to take away all my toys? Are you coming to make me do work where I have to sit so still that it hurts until I just can’t stand it anymore, and then I move, and then you take my toys away from me? Will you take my KloudSac away from me, too? Who are you? I don’t know you. I don’t trust you. I can’t understand what you’re saying and you’re scary because I don’t know if you’re going to be mean to me or take my toys from me. No! Don’t touch my toys, and don’t touch me! You’re too close, get out of the room, I can’t breathe, get away from me! My head is exploding, I can’t think, I have to bite myself to make the pain stop, just stop, it’s too much, stop!

It’s sleeptime. I don’t like being in my room with nothing to do. All these thoughts keep going through my head. What if they’re moving things around and I can’t find them tomorrow? What if my KloudSac isn’t in it’s safe spot? What if they want me to do ‘work’ tomorrow and I can’t do it because it will be really hard, and then I will be bad again and they’ll tell me I have to be good to get my toys back, and I don’t know how to do that? And maybe I’ll never get them back? What if that person comes who is always sitting too close to me, and they smell funny and it makes my head hurt and it juts gets so bad that I have to bite my arm to make the pain in my head stop? What if they don’t have my favourite jam tomorrow and I really want to eat that jam but if they don’t have it then I can’t eat anything at all, I just want my jam on my toast. My tummy is feeling funny, I have to get up and move around to make my tummy feel better. Maybe if I can do a poo it will feel better. And if I have something to do, then I can think about that – how it feels, and squishes and smells, and then I won’t have to think about all these other horrible things anymore.