It can shape both physical and psychiatric health, and in my family it has left deep marks. Growing up with psychiatric illness woven through our history was incredibly hard. My grandfather ended his life, leaving my Nan with five children and a grief that never really left her. When I think about my mother, I know the trauma she faced growing up without a father. He was very young when he decided to end his life.
I grew up with a father who went into hospital with a backache and came out with a diagnosis of cancer. I was eleven when he died, and the news came suddenly. He had fought in WWII, and although I can’t know for certain, I believe he must have carried PTSD — or shell shock, as they called it then.
These patterns don’t disappear easily. They echo through generations, touching my life, my children’s lives, and — though I hope with all my heart it won’t — possibly my grandchildren’s.
I was in care in North Devon at age 13, my memory is a bit blurry around that time. I was in a children’s home and three sets of foster parents. It wasn’t my mother’s fault. She couldn’t control me.
I have CPTSD, Bipolar II, Generalised Anxiety Disorder and Social Anxiety. Both of my boys had depression issues due to loss of parents. I was unwell and wasn’t able to raise either of my children. I so wish this had been different. I love my sons and Grandaughter. Part of the reason I am writing this is to mend bridges with my family here in NZ.
My book will explore these threads honestly, not to dwell on pain, but to understand it, and to show how recovery is still possible even when the past feels heavy. Genetic vulnerability exists in my family with cancer, addictive issues, mental health challenges and aim to heal family separation.