Yesterday was my firstborn boy's birthday. If he had lived, Christopher would have turned thirty-nine years old. He lived for forty eight days and then died within the confines of the Children's Hospital. And therein lies the juxtaposition. If Christopher or his sisters had survived, there would be no Callum and no Alex. And I can't imagine my life without my other boys.
Nobody else really remembers this day with me. Even my beloved Michael has to be reminded and if I do, he tries very hard to be tolerant of me if I succumb to a wave of emotion. But this year is somewhat different...
First of all, some apologies and love to my family. To my brother David, you saved me from so many of our mother's ravages by welcoming me, your little sister, into your turquoise painted bedroom and playing me all your favourite music on your record player. I have never forgotten.
To my brother Simon, I apologise for my behaviour whilst under the influence of that bloody drug Wegovy. I spent three months gripped by a dreadful mental health episode which I hope will explain what happened between us. Incidentally, I was cynically amused when the TGA announced last November that Wegovy may cause "suicidal idealisation" and that the drug should be prescribed with extreme caution.
To my brother Michael, I hope you find peace one day. Of all of us, I believe you were the most affected by our mother's chaotic and brutal behaviour. I remember when you were my playmate and my protector. Our time as childhood siblings will always stay with me. I understand why you had to go.
To my son Callum and daughter-in-law Bronwyn, I am so sorry for the hurt I caused you both. I think I reached the end of my rope that day and reacted in an utterly incomprehensible and thoughtless way. I hope you know how much you all mean to me.
To my son Alex, please understand that I always try to act in your best interests. I love you to bits and I am so proud of your maturity, your common sense and your willingness to try to be the best you can.
And lastly, to my beloved Michael. You are my guide, my compass, my voice of reason. You are why I am working harder on myself than I ever have in my life. I want to be the Kate who you fell in love with. I want to have fun, laugh at the idiocy of human nature, keep exploring ourselves and our relationship and having precious time just to ourselves.
I have always loved water, particular the sea. Not that I want to swim there - I would sink like a stone and probably be lunch for one of those sneaky creatures with a dorsal fin and very pointy teeth. I feel the rhythm of the ocean with all its power and liken myself to both the calm and the turbulent.
And so I have discovered, with profound thanks to my psychologist, the power of EMDR.This acronym stands for Eye Movement Desentisation and Reprocessing. EMDR focuses on specific traumatic memories and associated negative beliefs, using bilateral stimulation (eye movements, tapping, or tones) to help the brain reprocess the information, similar to how the body naturally heals wounds.
I was totally skeptical going into my first session. I have seen shrinks and psychs since I was eighteen, had innumerable 'therapeutic' drugs and lots of counselling and still never felt I was whole. My traumatic memories remained unresolved and my psyche craved peace rather than turmoil.
EMDR has changed all that. I have had two sessions of EMDR and I believe another two or three sessions will see me on the road to recovery. These sessions are to deal with residual effects of my mother and my daughter. Not that I believe I won't need 'refreshers' in the future - that goes without saying. But for the first time in many months, I feel alive and focused and hopeful. This is a revelation for me.
So, for any of you reading my blog, feeling like there is nothing out there for you all, please try EMDR. I really can't believe the benefits, but all I know is that I am back, in a body and a personality that is positive. The calm instead of the turbulent.
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