Disclaimer: Please do not read this post if difficult personal story is not your cup of tea, or if it could trigger or offend you.
This is week six in the Sunday Scribblings prompt hosted by Peckapalooza: The Confusing Middle.
Normally I hook these challenges together to create an ongoing chapter story. It pleases me to get as much mileage as possible out of my writing attempts. I did have a plan in mind to work this week’s prompt into today’s chapter (6) while advancing my story. At least I did until yesterday’s post with reference to Father’s Day. Plans have changed.
I consider myself thick skinned when it comes to my personal history. Much of the time I can talk about most of it matter-of-factly while minimizing the truth of our abusive family life. No big deal.
Yesterday I made reference to abusive relationships because, just like there are many who find Mother’s Day traumatic, there are many who find Father’s Day a traumatic experience. The reasons are different but still painful.
Now, working my way emotionally through the aftermath of yesterday, I realize trauma related to Father’s day goes deeper than first thought. Generally, the deeper the trauma the less likely we are to speak about it. Many are vocal every year about their negative experiences surrounding Mother’s Day. Today for the first time, I realize we are hearing a complete lack of corresponding comments surrounding Father’s Day. The silence speaks loudly, if we happen to be listening.
Yesterday I wanted to acknowledge mostly-forgotten hurting hearts. To be seen and understood means a lot to those living with unimaginable pain. It felt like the right thing to do, to offer support and encouragement.
It’s no surprise to find, once again, my conscious mind can’t handle the truth of my own life. It has deeply buried the negative and bought into the never-happened, no-big-deal lies. My brothers insist I need to face the uncomfortable truth. I find I don’t want to/can’t remember. Inappropriate (not fitting the situation) triggered responses are the only evidence of truth.
The triggered reaction arising out of yesterday’s sharing was a shock to my system. The emotional upheaval I woke up to this morning was a shock too. As a result this has been a recovery day. As the day wears on I’m starting to feel better.
My skin appears to be thinner than I believe it is.
I’m sharing all this now because I feel compelled. Partly because I know the power of story to comfort and help others. Partly because I know the value of expression to release pent up emotions. I’m trusting that life will be incrementally better after acknowledging another sliver of truth. So far it always has been and I have great expectations for now too.
May life be better for you too, as you acknowledge the truth (as you are able) of your situation.
Next week will be soon enough for anther installment in my continued story about Carly, an exposed woman in Witness Protection.
Hoping this all made sense…