Responses from Noticeable Chatter

These are excerpts from some conversations I have had with some of you since the posting of “Noticeable Chatter” last week.  Much has been discussed over chat box, or on the phone, but many of you are expressing the same things.  Some of the wordings I have changed, but not the idea. 

Reader:

I've attempted to write about my own childhood but always given up.  I can relate to everything you're talking about and personally know how much damage the abuse affects one's life. It's a daily struggle for me.  I always believed we do have a voice, but at times I still search for mine. I 

have spent decades trying to forgive my mom but I've failed to accomplish this.

My Response:

We do have a voice and my writing is mine. I am blessed to be able to say it in a way people can relate to. The tragedy about any type of abuse is that unless you have experienced it at a level that rips your very soul to shreds, you only know the facts, and you only know the outline. People need to hear what I have to say whether they want to or not. I did not turn to drugs to ease my pain, I'm not an addict. I did not destroy my life in an attempt to bear a greater pain than my childhood. I am not a drunk or a hooker. What I write I write stone cold sober and yes, it wretches my soul at times, but THAT is the reality. People need to know what happens as a child affects every second of your life whether you deal with it or not. Abusers need to know what is at stake if there is ANY hope of preventing it. We try so hard as adults to hide or mitigate the pain. I know I do. People need to KNOW the lasting effects and that is the story we have not heard, the voices that have not spoken. Oprah gives stories of horrific abuse and an outline of how heartwarming and successful the person is today. That person is one in a million and does not represent the rest of us. And we don't know what that person does behind a closed door. I saw you a thousand miles away, but how many people do you hide from? Didn't you think on some level you must be a failure because it still hurts you? I know I do.  Your mother deserves to be forgiven, and you deserve to forgive her. I am still struggling to forgive my mother myself, but this much I do know. She deserves to be forgiven. It doesn't mean I have to tell her I forgave her. Some people have to carry their own burdens. But I deserve to forgive my mother and I will. Just as soon as I figure out how.

(Yes, I can “see” many of you through your postings, through what you say, even the tiniest words, through what you don’t say.  I see you in a hundred different ways.  I will never ask you about it, will never mention it, but I see you, though you think you are hiding and managing well.  The offer always remains open to contact me and have a conversation.  I believe the pain had been endured long enough and it is time for it to end.  It can’t end until it is acknowledged.)

Reader:

I sadly believe childhood abuse is very common and widespread affecting many generations...thanks for using your voice to help survivors and educate everyone involved. It's crucial for all of us to unlock the cellar door...

My Response:

It is very common, and because it is, no one is acknowledging the effects. They bury it in work, risk behavior, drinking, drugs, promiscuity...you name it. They ignore the effects and pretend it doesn't affect them. I recently spoke to an elderly woman who has suffered more than 70 years!  She recounted verbal and emotional abuse from her father and it brought tears to her eyes when speaking of it. Why are we living in this pain instead of healing it? She then minimized her pain because she deemed mine to be worse. I told her pain is pain and she has carried it around long enough. My experience and pain may indeed be worse than hers, but that fact does nothing to mitigate or heal hers. Her pain is real, it is valid and it exists. Simply based on that, she deserves to heal no less than I do. She said “maybe, but some of the things you've been through (and she starts to cry again because she cares for me) I am so sorry you had to deal with it.”  Then she said “and I don't think I know the worst of it.”  She looked down to the floor. I said “look at me.”  She raised her eyes a little. I said” no! I want you to look at me.”  She did. “It is all right. I am all right. I am dealing with it and I am happier than I have ever been. I talk about it because I can talk about it without it affecting the rest of my day, the rest of my week or my life.”

She said “Yes, I see that. I would never have guessed what your life has been. You always have a smile on your face, you laugh and joke, I never would have known.” I can finally be happy because though I have not healed entirely, I allow the pain when it comes. I hope that as we acknowledge the pain we feel is not a weakness, it is not a character flaw; we will abandon the ignorance surrounding it and opt for a better way to live. I am not saying we should wallow in self-pity....that is not productive. Just acknowledge it is there. Choose how much time you will give it today, allow it to come, and restart your day. I wrote the entry on lying because as an adult I was held accountable for my behavior, and lying is inconsistent with how most people conduct their lives. The problem was I was accountable for being a liar when that is what I was raised to be and I knew no other way to live. I knew lying was wrong, but what else did I have? As a child, I was able to recognize honesty and it was beaten out of me. The book of truth I had buried in my mind was kept safe until I could use it, but I had to know it was there in the first place. When you live a lie long enough, it becomes your truth. It is why I make every attempt to live my life as honestly as I can now. There are maybe 2 people that know most of the worst....but as I continue to write it too, will eventually be revealed.

I know I can count on your confidentiality, but that is not my fear about putting me out here like this in such a public venue. The facts speak for themselves and I am not worried about them being confidential, I am exposing them in bits. There are people who will try to exploit my experiences and life for their own reasons. They will speak about me in ways that are not kind, and it will probably hurt me if I know about it. I don't deserve that, yet I know it is one of the consequences of what I am doing. Like many things, I accept this but I don't have to like it. I will cross that bridge when I come to it. I am hitting some pretty raw nerves in my writing, and like I used to do when confronted with reality, they will strike out at me. I have hurt them with my story and they will hurt me back. The challenge for me is to be able to recognize it is not personal (though it sure feels like it) and separate the person from their actions. Doesn't mean I invite them into my life, but I don't allow their actions to steal my joy and happiness. I have chosen to end my suffering because I know I deserve better. I do not have to allow it in my life because someone else refuses to acknowledge the effects of their childhood ie: they are liars, thieves, abusive whatever. I was a compulsive liar. It is a hard thing to face, even harder to admit to. But until I did, nothing was going to change. Had I not done it, I would be here 20 years later desperately lonely, and desperate for someone to love me. Maybe by now I would be an alcoholic or an addict. I don't know if I could have lived with that forever without trying to mitigate it somehow. My God that was painful to admit. It was painful to accept that was who I was. What I cannot deny is that the benefits I have received in exchange for facing myself in the mirror have far outweighed the cost. I am not proud I was a liar. But I do not deserve to carry shame for it, either. I was living the way I was taught to live.

As a child I was strong and defiant in the face of my family. I knew what they were doing was wrong and I fought back. It was one of those mysterious things I "just knew" but I knew they were wrong. The trouble was that I was a child. At some point my defiance was going to get me killed. I am not trying to be overly dramatic, but it was the reality for me. So in order to survive, I buried my defiance, I buried the truth, I buried all the goodness and knowledge I had until it was safe for it to exist. Somewhere, I forgot it did exist. I remember being very little and looking at my family like they were out of their fucking minds. Of course I didn't have those words, but I remember it. I felt like the only sane person there and I was little. I may be a DNA replica of my mother but I still am not convinced I wasn't switched at birth! Anyway, I can't turn back now. I have started something. I don't know where it will lead, or how it will all turn out, but the silence has been broken. Whatever happens, it will be interesting!

Simplify your life where you can, it will help you to dedicate yourself toward healing your pain. It is not an easy task as you know. All I can say is despite how I have suffered, I am glad to be where I am. Your pain is worth healing. You deserve to be happy. Your mother deserves to be forgiven, and you deserve to forgive her. I am still struggling to forgive my mother myself, but this much I do know. She deserves to be forgiven. It doesn't mean I have to tell her I forgave her. Some people have to carry their own burdens. But I deserve to forgive my mother and I will. Just as soon as I figure out how.

Reader:

I have one question; do you have enough support systems as you open up and write about your traumas? I know it would cause a cascade of powerful and painful emotions for me to attempt the same. Just letting you know that I care~

My Response:

I can’t say it strongly enough!  I talk about it because I can!  So many of you can’t, you walk around buried in shame, you hide it in every corner of your soul and you walk out the door with a smile on your face!  The emotions are powerful, painful, awful and sometimes incapacitating. The day I wrote "Noticeable Chatter," was a very quiet, introspective day for me. A lot of tears were shed, but the funny thing is, although I am reliving the greatest pain in my life, I am reliving it from a position of power, not as a child. Some of the emotions are raw and fresh, as if experiencing it for the very first time, and in a way, I am. As became increasingly blunted and disassociated from my life, my emotions, I did not experience the grief and horror at the time of occurrence. Like the book of truth, those emotions were dangerous to me at the time so they were tucked away in an area of my soul which would eventually become so blackened, I felt my soul withering and dying in my early twenties. 

And like the book of truth, they are emerging now because it is safe to do so. It is time. Having obtained some level of peace in my life, I find this is something I must do in solitude. It is where I can be the most honest, where I can see the truth.  My children are unaware of the content, even. I don't want my friends who love and care about me so deeply to color or shade my experiences with their concern. Like the elderly lady who was concerned for me, I would be in a position to reassure them. There would be questions and phone calls distracting me from the work I am doing. I don't even think they know about this, though they are FB friends with me because their lives are consuming them at the moment. I get a note or VM now and then saying they haven't had time to read, but they will catch up soon. They think I am writing fiction. Your concern is fine because you don't know me enough to ask me the questions my friends would be asking.

When you experience emotions from a position of power, though they may be incredibly painful to bear, they cleanse as they rip apart my soul once again. My soul was decimated by my life and I nearly lost it to the dark side. The negative and detrimental coping skills I used to survive my life had kept my soul raggedly intact, but the band aides were straining under the weight of the abuse. As I experience it now, my soul is again being ripped to shreds, but I am in control of how deeply and how quickly it is ripped apart. I set the pace. My soul was repaired after the first time with a million temporary fixes. Now it is being ripped apart so it can be rebuilt and assume its position with me as an integral part of who I am, while linking me with my spirit. It may be painful, but at the same time it is an amazing experience. As I rip through the layers, I am finding I can't wait to see what kind of person I will be at the end. I have no worries about my ability to do this, I worry about the external factors I have no control over. For that, I have a counselor I see once a week. 

Believe it or not, this is not the biggest stress in my life. I struggle financially and worry all the time about making the rent. I wish I had a job I could support myself with and provided health care because if I had those two needs met, I would not have a great deal of stress. I live simply and do not have a lot of needs. I would love to be able to make a living just from my writing, but I know the likely hood of that. It doesn't matter how talented you are if it doesn't break into the mainstream. We see that every year on American Idol and programs like it. We do not suffer from a lack of talent in this country. 

Take care, and now you know you are not alone; you are not a failure because it still hurts 40 years later, and recovery is possible. I don’t know if I said this before, but I don't think healing from the type of life I have had is possible, because if it was possible to do so I would have. But I am and can recover. (Though I often use the terms interchangeably, healing and recovery are not the same.)  There will be lasting effects like the insomnia and night terrors I experience, but I am developing a sense of self and who I am. The effects are just how it is. The night terrors and other things are really minimal when you take into account the cost of not recovering at all.

I haven’t had much time to write as I place together my life in this move, but I thought it was worth sharing this since so many of you are expressing the same things.  I will never place anything in the blog which would identify who you are.  WE are one spirit in the sense of our experiences.  The details may be different, the depth of pain varies, but the results are the same.  We are still carrying pain and shame decades later.  Ironically, the shame is often not our burden to bear.  It is time we ended the suffering and allow ourselves to live a better, happier life.  That is the least we deserve.