When I was in high school I began to recognize, or remember, or
accept that something bad had happened to me as a kid. It wasn't way bad
though, and it didn't cause me any problems, so I just stuffed it in
the back of the brain closet. Last November I recalled that a whole lot
more happened than my brain had let me in on before; and I could no
longer pretend that everything was okay. Since then life has been hard.
November was hard, but December was worse. What was worse than
December was January, and even more still February. March was trying to
slaughter my life, and April was succeeding. In May my job started
getting busy again, I was able to move out of my parents house, found a
therapist I could afford, and talked to my bishop (actually I passed him
a peace of paper because there was no way on earth I could say that
stuff aloud). June was hard but good. July is doable. I might be able to
survive this. I can see a light in the tunnel (though it sure doesn't
look like the end), and I no longer think it is a train. Maybe I can
become not messed up one day.
I was invited to contribute to this blog around December by a friend
who has a heart as gold. At first my brain was reeling at the
possibilities; I could be a spokesperson for survivors. I could educate
and prevent. I could fix society! Then I realized I was a bad bad
person. Doing the life thing was hard and full of bad. Everything seemed
bad. Now I feel something that is a little less then hope. I think I
can become more; I think I can become better. I don't know what changed
but I'll take it. Somehow I can accept the bad things right now, and
still be okay. And so I choose to write.
I hope my different perspective can help someone. If not, that's okay. I
think it will still be good for me. I am just starting into this
journey of... not being...broken, and bad. Perhaps seeing someone at the
start of their journey will help someone. Sometimes I get tired of just
reading about 'happy all better people' because I can't relate to
that.
I am just in the broken stage.
So beside an introduction, here is my thought today. And it really
is just a thought; not nearly so concrete as everything else around
here.
I listened to Brene Brown's TED talk on shame, and
did some reading in a healing book on shame. Somewhere something
clicked and I realized that the den of shame is secrecy. "Don't tell
anyone because______." "Keep it secret." "If they don't know they will
still love you, and wont judge you." This is so wrong! We need help and
we need support and we need love- and not just the parts of us people
see. True love loves all of ourselves. When we keep ourselves secret we
convince ourselves that they only love us because they don't see the bad
part of us. If they saw the dark they would know how evil we were and
not to love us. How heart breaking!
This doesn't mean to
go spill you guts to every Kerry, Larry, and Harry! That does not seem
safe to me on a great many a level. This means we need and deserve
privacy.
The difference in this concept came to me one day when my friend had
her journal hanging out in the front room. I asked her why she wasn't
worried that her brother would read it- I mean it's a journal, it's full
of vulnerable stuff! She explained that he wouldn't because he knew it
was private. It wasn't going to be a thought for him, so she didn't have
to worry about it. What on earth is this! What a foreign idea! I hide
anything personal in layers and layers of computer files in desperate
hope that no one will find them. I can't make myself freely write in a
journal because I know someone might read it. How is this a thing!
Privacy, what a great, novel idea. You can keep yourself safe
without believing your bad. You can have safety without secrets. By
creating some sort of privacy culture you invite, you trust someone to
respect the boundaries you put up. In secrecy putting up boundaries
means you don't trust that person. In privacy boundaries can be good and
healthy! I didn't even know privacy was a real thing; to me privacy was
secrets. I can't imagine not hiding the things I care about in boxes in
the corner of my room. People live this way! I want that. I don't know
how to get it, but I want that.
