Revisiting the past through blogging has advantages and disadvantages. One advantage is the ability to see past events and realize that I have come a long way for the better. One disadvantage is that going back in time can be triggering. This is where I am at the moment. I had a triggering moment retelling a part of my story, and I broke down and cried about it.
As I wrote about a time I sought the help of other adults to share my plight of abuse with, I teared up. I realized that I had no one who would help me, and I never understood the reason. I recalled one person who I believed was my saving grace even if all she did was listen to me in the beginning. She was a relative by marriage – the wife of a cousin. I was mezmerized by her because she seemed like the mother that I lacked in so many ways. Appearances can be deceiving though, and I would not realize this until some years later.
Anyway, this relative made me feel comfortable enough to talk to her, and talking was no easy feat for me when I was a child. In her attempts, I guess she was trying to connect with me since I was seemingly so different from her own daughters. Because I felt safe when I was around her, I became comfortable enough to talk to her. Soon after, I tested the waters of communication to see if she was a good listener. I needed someone to actually hear me. She passed the test because I felt comfortable enough to share with her a little about what I was going through.
Although her eyes showed compassion and concern, her mouth never uttered a word. I assumed she was just taking in my story to think about how she could help me. It was not until I told her that I no longer had a desire to live did I see her appearance turn to stone right before my eyes. I know she heard what I said based on her facial expression of confusion mixed with concern. Yet, instead of questioning me further, she gaslighted me by telling me that I didn’t really have “those” feelings and that I had a lot to live for and needed to be grateful.
I recall being flabbergasted, and the deep sense of hurt that I was already feeling was steeped with even more hurt, embarrassment, and shame. Nothing had changed for me though; I was still a depressed and suicidal nine year old! How could I be grateful for internal pain? I realized a little too late that I had trusted my heart to someone who had no intentions of helping me. Instead, she stonewalled me by refusing to hear me any further. After my self-disclosure, she avoided me by finding ways to never be alone with me from that point on until I was an adult. Because of her reaction to me, I never shared my personal feelings with her in this way again.It would actually be a long time before I even trusted myself to share my heart with others – including with a therapist.
The moral of my story is that I recognized a trigger, and I decided to take a moment to stop and understand it for what it was for me. It did mean going back to look at a painful part of my past, but it is worth doing so to heal. This is an event that was a part of my life journey and has shaped me into who I am today. I realized through tears that this is most likely one of the reasons that I do not talk to this relative and this part of my family today.
Of course, now, I think about that triggering event differently too. Sometimes, adults are just not equipped to deal with the problems that youth brings to them. Plus, culturally, discussions regarding mental health and abuse had always remained secretive in my familial community. I’m so glad that this is changing though. I’m so glad that my own voice has become unchained enough to talk about it too. I just thought I’d share this as I a take a moment to breathe and rest from a look back at my history.
Stay tuned for more to come …
My Voice Unchained 