Nothing compares with the moments my children were born. My son offered his opinion of the process instantly with an indignant wail. I laughed in delight. My daughter, after being placed on my tummy, quietly contemplated me with her great big eyes. I melted in that gaze. I vowed to honor the individuality of each of them, to foster their uniqueness. I would guide them, teach them, keep them safe from harm, and lay down my life for them, if necessary, such was the magnitude of love, especially in those precious first moments. I had no idea the depth, the breadth, the enormity of what would … [Read more...]
Tips for a Survivor’s Spouse
We’re an exotic breed, we who were abused as kids. My husband would probably joke, “Exotic? That’s not quite how I’d define it…” I’ll ask him, and tell you a few paragraphs down. Nevertheless, it’s true. Exotic: strikingly, excitingly, or mysteriously different or unusual. Take “different or unusual” for a moment. I felt, as a child, a teenager, and then early adult that I had been plucked from a different planet and placed on earth. I walked around inside a body, but the core of me, all that was me, knew I carried the weight of the shame of our family. I was borderless, lost inside myself and … [Read more...]
Sunglasses On The Soul
I have a pair of expensive sunglasses, a gift from my husband on one of those decade birthdays. I love them. They surround my eyes in such a way that I can drive the boat, water ski or SUP (standup paddleboard) and not have sunlight momentarily blind me by its brightness or reflection off the water. My eyes feel like I’ve stepped into a shady forest glade when I slip on those gorgeous frames. Since expensive sunglasses aren’t my usual fare, it doesn’t hurt my spirit either. I’m not sure why my gymnastic mind took me from sunglasses to soul today, but it did. Recently I thought about the … [Read more...]
Forgive But Don’t Forget
Please don’t forget. Forgive and forget are not synonymous, although my background would suggest they are. All my life it was “forgive and forget,” which, when you think about it, makes perfect sense – if you’re my parents. Forgetting was the same as pretending it, whatever “it” was, never happened in my family. Michelle had my dad’s baby? Erase her off the whiteboard of our life. No pictures, no reference allowed, no contact. She, the victim, was shunned. Sent away and forgotten. Except, of course, she wasn’t. She was a terrible wound that festered just beneath the surface of our lives, all … [Read more...]
I Am Not That Person
I’m not. I admire those who are. But it’s not me. What am I talking about? I have very little sympathy and no empathy for child molesters. Like – none. It isn’t in my DNA. I don’t feel bad about that. I have seen the landscape of families littered with the fallout of abusers. Children’s lives altered forever, mother’s hearts shattered into tiny little pieces at the news HER child was sexually abused. I’ve seen stunned grandmothers and grandfathers, aunts and uncles, sisters and brothers shake their heads as if clearing vision when disclosure occurs. Shrapnel is indiscriminate. Collateral … [Read more...]
My Grandmothers Gave Me Roots and Wings
Grandma was safe. Nana Kaye was a feminist before her time. Grandma gave me roots, Nana Kaye wings – the kind that help you soar, not just flutter out of the nest or hop from branch to branch. I often get asked, “What, do you think, helped you craft a decent life given your family’s history?” When my therapist first posed the question, I couldn’t say. Now perhaps I can. There appear to be common threads in resilience. A bad childhood is not a life sentence. As early as I can remember, Grandma was. Roly-poly, fluffy haired, barely five feet tall, her infectious laughter sparkled. When I … [Read more...]
