Crying is a sign of weakness and vulnerability. It shows that you have been hurt, and often shows the one who has hurt you that you have been hurt. Sometimes they gloat, sometimes they mourn and try to right things. Makes me think about those we choose to surround ourselves with.
I went to a new school every year, and schools are not safe places. Kids are jockeying for position - it's a pecking order. Obviously chickens came up with the plan, and schools instill it in their students. The new kid automatically starts at the bottom and has to move their way up, otherwise they/we/I bear the brunt of all the abuse. If you/we/I cried, we immediately fall to the bottom of the order.
And as I said, we were feral children, also jockeying for position. And beside that, what is the message we receive when we cry...There, there, don't cry. Or shut up and stop sniveling. And the soother will tell you why you should not cry. I think sometimes - as with a hungry, cold infant - we instinctively do what we can to soothe. But as we get older, and the pain is different, crying stimulates those feelings in others. I want you to just stop crying so I can just stop feeling.
Your dream made me cry. I remember that long staircase leading directly to the front door, which was always locked. Dad's time in Viet Nam was horrible. I always had mixed feelings about his sudden departures. He left for one year periods three different times in my life. Life was more peaceful - or less frightening - when he was gone. I remember feeling relieved, then feeling really guilty. I knew I was bad, and I didn't want to share those feelings with anyone.
But when he got home that time - that's when all hell broke loose. Something really bad obviously happened there, which he has never spoken about to the best of my knowledge. And the reaction of people when he returned had to be humiliating - especially since he did not want to go. Our vets were treated with such disrespect. He had put in a request for Germany, thinking of having the whole family there for a year. (That would have been so wonderful...) Dad was stationed away from home for less than a year I think after he came home from the war - so he was only around on weekends. He retired from active duty, then rotated through a few jobs. Mom went to work - second shift. He was drinking heavily and angry when he came home each evening. I was in charge of dinner, cleaning up, homework, bed, because often we had no idea when he would get home. I remember being afraid because I was alone and in charge, yet when we heard him get home - a different fear took over. He wouldn't eat meals with us. We were adrift with 13 year old me at the helm. Doomed for sure!! I lived on aspirin that year, trying to make the pain stop.
My guess is that during those years, the year he was gone, and the year after he came home, the abuse and molestation was at its highest. We were not tended, and so I think some of the neighbor kids were bullying your brothers and participating in the abuse of you girls. I had a few strange incidents of being stalked, and only divine intervention saved me.
So it's no wonder you dream that we were being killed. Our humanity was being abused right out of us. But you are still stuck in the house. We are bloody and unhappy, without our bodies, even - but we're out! I prefer that image to considering that maybe we didn't survive our childhood.
Did we survive our childhood? I don't feel alive. I am struggling all the time. I create situations where I can think I am bad and be afraid. But it is comforting. I feel - something.
I just had one of those aha moments - but instead of Light, this felt like someone "knocked me up 'longside the head" - a family favorite phrase. When we were little and Dad was mad, and he stomped around, I was never afraid. But when he walked silently and deliberately, I was terrified...
Cry...we need to cry...even if we are afraid we will never be able to stop...we have to cry.
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