"D
on't tell anyone."
These words still ring true.
Don't worry, I won't say a word. It's better that way,for all of us.
But I want to tell you that ~I know why the caged bird sings.~
I was abused.
Don't worry I won't give the details
like I said. Talking about it burns a whole in my
stomach and makes my hands sweat. Hearing about it
might ruin your mood or worse yet make you feel
sorry
for me. Don't, please. I know who I am now and I
am
much more than what was forced upon me. I've
learned
to love me, all of me. I am a sensitive, caring,
loving, abuse survivor, learning how to dream.
Maya Angelou has said that you don't have to
relive
the abuse but I haven't quite figured that part
out
yet. To pretend that it never happened worked for
a
while but I needed to remember. I needed to think
about it, for a very long time, to help me
understand
who I am, why I feel the way I do, and why I make
the
choices I make.
Just as my abusers told me not to tell, I continue
to
hear that sentiment even to this day. I have been
told not to speak about it; no one wants to hear it
anyway. Even the closest people to me don't know the details.They really don't want to know, not really. They don't
want to live it through me. I don't blame them.
They feel the shame when I speak about it. Who would want to feel that disgust? So, they've hushed me and changed the subject by saying things like, "that was in the past, move on now." And I did, I have, and understand now that it is my cross to bear. I carry it
well. Meeting me, you would not even begin to think that I lived through such unspeakable things.
Abuse is the most silent form of torture that is constantly reinforced by societal and self induced shame. To hear about it, aspects of my life, is depressing I've been told. I've been referred to a support group of people who have experienced
similar things or to a shrink because I'm perceived to need help. Why else would I want to ever utter such words?
Really, honestly though, my words would only bring the listener down and shatter their illusion of what life
is or should be.
I'm asked, "How are you? Then
tuned out when the words don't feel good to their ears.
I guess this is something we are all guilty of. So,
I smile and say, "Good, good and you?"
I have come to understand that most people shy
away from anything other than happy exchanges. Everyone
wants a happy ending whether it comes in 30 years
or 30 seconds. Most would prefer the latter. It's the
world we live in. Hell, who doesn't want to
experience as many continuous moments of perceived happiness
as possible. A world filled with instant
gratification and melodramatic movies and books to be lived
everyday in real life, hell yes! Anything less would result
in box office (or personal) failure.
It's ok, I
understand. I try my hardest not to talk about it, the abuse.
Every time I reveal even the tiniest dirty little
secret about it, I feel the disgust in the pit of
my
stomach. I falter in self esteem, wondering who
and
how to trust. What must the listener be thinking
of
me? How have I shattered their illusion of me,
pristine and serene? I swiftly smile and revert to
self preservation in lieu of the truth just as
quickly
as my listener. After all, "some things are better
left in the past." Then, we can both get on to the
task at hand, finding something that makes us
feels
good. This is what I should focus on anyway. After
all, I too live in the land of opportunity, the
land
where all my dreams can come true, right?
Society does its best to offer a pot of gold at
the
end of a rainbow and the opportunity to experience all
the beautiful colors along the way. That is the
world
that we are expected to see. But I was not
conditioned
to see this world, never knew how, and never knew
that
I could dream for more than safety. I only later
learned of this wondrous world with its pot of
gold,
and I struggle to figure out how and where to find
the
rainbow, still.
How do I dream this seemingly universal dream of
bliss
when I never learned how? When the weight of the
world
pressed upon me its will, when life has been so
unkind, when I have lived in the shadows for so
long,
how did I discover what or who I am? I realized I
was
alone and what a terribly daunting task it is for
a
child who has not yet found hope in anything to
attempt to understand one's self and the world when
faced with its dark realities at such a young age.
It took some time and a lot of self introspection
but I have learned to communicate with myself, to listen to myself, to accept everything about me, to forgive myself and move on, to love myself and respect my
choices. Through this and a lot of reveling in the
moment, I have learned how to dream happiness and
I am
stronger for it. I can truly appreciate life, its
complexities, and all that it offers. I no longer
feel
the need for others to know me, I know myself. I
know
the details. I know that even if most people
choose to
deny the world I've lived through, it does exist.
I no
longer feel the need show them.
Now, I have learned to
hope for the future even if at times I lack the
conviction of faith in it. I have given the gift
of
hope in myself, to myself and refuse to let anyone
ever take it away from me again. The pot of gold,
the
happy ending is within me, it shows itself on
occasion, but has not yet truly revealed itself to
me.
But I have unlocked within me, at least the
ability to
dream.
I know why the caged bird sings and doesn't sing.
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Life and Times
