I've come to realize how much more easily the words flow whenever I'm simply writing in here as who I am authentically from wherever I happen to be at in my life at that moment...
And the feeling is deliciously freeing and revitalizing. It's as if I'm giving myself new life during the time that I am connecting with the blank page and using it as my creative outlet for any reason.
I'm taking the time now to come to you in connection in an effort to imbue this online space of mine with the essence of a real person from behind the screens of our devices. You deserve the ability to come to know me as a whole human being, as a woman, a mother, and more if we are to be in any capacity of relationship. And I'd love the opportunity to learn the same depth of discovery about who you are here, as well... The pleasure is all mine.
Today is a beautifully slow and bright Sunday afternoon, the prime environment for a stroll with good company and good conversation. It's the perfect time to share with a new friend during a coffee date catch-up or a meaningful call.
Do you still talk to those within your circle over the phone?..
Let’s chat and catch up together now. We’ll be friends after this:
Today is Fathers' Day. I did not and still do not have an acceptable relationship to my own Father. In fact, I'm currently choosing to adopt a minimal-to-none approach towards interaction with him. I'm civil, but silent, you can say. I wrote a paid piece in an earlier publication of mine, but today I’d like to release it publicly to all readers.
*Trigger Warning for domestic violence references — You have the chance to avoid encountering this by choosing to not proceed with reading.*
I used to walk alone at nighttime. And there was always a tinge of danger in the air to be felt at each instance, but not enough to actually stop me from taking those leisurely steps around the perimeter of the pond. I wasn't afraid of tripping in the dark and falling into the black water; it seemed like the lesser of suffering when compared to what I was literally walking away from: dysfunction. In my family, making its waves through us all and disturbing only my peace because of what all had been quietly tolerated as normal by everyone else.
As certainly as domestic violence is bad, and pecan pie is good, I knew that I was not the sole figure with an ethical barometer within my clan. I was just the only one vocal about it and outwardly uncomfortable with witnessing abuse being normalized for the sake of keeping quiet. And to pay for my crimes against my family of disturbing their peace with my protests, I was not only physically assaulted but put out on the street for homeless more than once or twice.
Lies would be told and details were always concealed to keep my father from being arrested. My entire swollen face and bleeding mouth were disregarded after the story that my mother and father acted out to law enforcement. They always said that I was "sick" and unwell -- with a chuckle. I kept a viscerally sick feeling in the bottom of my stomach as I watched myself playing the part of living a life among others who were legitimately permitted to live theirs how they chose, damn everyone else.
"A a village community may be defined as a group of people living in a definite geographical area, characterised by consciousness of kind, common life styles and various intensive social interaction." -- Budding Sociologist
Why is it so commonly touted as fact that "it takes a village to raise a child?" In my case, it is because I was failed in such key areas as to still experience some of the effects decades later. I had to find replacement bonds with others on the outside in order to piece together a semblance of what I was missing most at those times. I was left to seek out what I needed from my family from other figures in my life over many, many years of mistakes and lessons learned in the most difficult ways imaginable. I wasn't handed a ready village present to absorb my faults into its good intentions and concern. I had only learned to play nice with what was butchered up and taped back together bleeding in the shape of something safe.
For a long time, I feared that what I didn't have inside of me already would prevent me from giving such to my own children. What if I became irretrievably bent from how my parents hurt me? How could I really love something I created when I didn't even like who I was myself? What happens if or when I really mess all of this up so badly and become cursed to live the responsibility for continuing the cycle that was still consuming me?..
I lived those fears nonstop, twice -- once per child.
Today, I hear others say that I'm a good mother.
True, I've managed to keep both of my children safely. I love on them like blood nourishes bone. The two have no better advocate or cheerleader. They are the cause for my huge life transformations for the better that have changed me into a version of someone who can hardly remember what things were life before the pair were here with me.
And I'm so thankful for my children's village. I don't get annoyed at their great aunt asking me to send her pictures of my kids wearing their new outfits. I know each and every person who has ever expressed love for my children, and I will never forget that they have done such. I treasure the (many) moments that a family member takes time out of their day to spend with my two toddlers, because those people are saying that my children are worth their most valuable resource -- their time. Whenever I get told how I disappointed someone, and especially many people, by not being present at a certain engagement or an event with my children, I feel a very real pain of guilt; I don't take the village's care and concern for my special two for granted.
I don't like to say that I have earned all of the many blessings that my children, and then I, have today because there is still no justifiable reason for me to have endured what I have in my past history with my family of origin. But I do believe that I deserve it. My children definitely deserve such, and there is no necessary earning for them to accomplish before they do. As a wiser adult, I know that it does take a village to raise a child, and as a decent parent, I know that it is my duty to safeguard my children's environment from the suffering that I experienced.
I’m really sorry what you endured growing up with your father. I’m sorry he caused you so much trauma. The best thing you did was have minimal contact with him as you need to take care of you. I know you are an excellent mother and have lots of respect for you.