Family secrets...all families have them, right? Some secrets are just maybe someone wet the bed after being potty trained or another being a bit slow to talk. Seemingly simple things. Some however, are dark and scary and traumatic. I believe that childhood traumas are some of the hardest traumas to heal from, especially when there's no real resolution to the trauma. I have found, through, therapy and research, that my childhood traumas have robbed me of my memories. They are repressed, in bulk, within the confines of my head.
I have glimpses of memories and I have some full memories. But mostly, when I try to remember it's like sitting in front of a blank easel with nothing yet painted on it. But, there are things I remember without trying.
I was a little girl, just learning to print my name. There's a house on State St in Indianapolis that inside the closet, really close to the floor, my child printed name in red crayon is on the wall. That's not the important part. Here we go, secret number one. My name is in that closet because I was being punished and punishment meant being locked in the closet. I was able to sneak a crayon in once, and wrote my name. Well, when that name was discovered by my mom, the light bulb was taken out of the closet so that I couldn't see to do anything during punishment. Now, I'm so extremely claustrophobic that it paralyzes me.
We grew up, my sister and I, watching Mommie Dearest with Faye Dunaway cast as Joan Crawford, the toxic and abusive Mommie. We were NOT allow to call our mom "Mommie Dearest" as it would instantly enrage her and create a fight. My sister does not watch shows or movies that depict moments of her trauma, they upset her. I however, find them healing and educational. There is a specific scene in this movie where Mommie Dearest has daughter on the floor, pinned by Mommie's body and Mommie is choking her and banging her head into the floor over and over. I was the daughter in this scene when I was 15, but, unlike the daughter in the movie, I did not have anyone come to my rescue. I don't even remember why she quit, but she did and she left the kitchen and left me on the floor stunned.
I wrote before that losing my mom is a pain like no other. However, the hard pill to swallow logically for me, is the relief that I have experienced. I have realized that I do not need to be scared anymore. I'm not going to endure her verbal abuse anymore. I won't see her judgmental looks. I have realized that my history of abuse and negative self thinking began long before I could understand what was going on and what was wrong with it.
I have always been careful with family secrets but now, it's my time to heal. It's time for my voice to be heard. It's time for me to love me.
