The pitfalls of doing this kind of intense, soul searching work are few and the possibilities and benefits are great. I would be remiss if I didn’t have some awareness of how this dark information is received by those who care about me. I often feel my writing should carry a warning label because it is the one place that I do not under any circumstance censor myself. I can’t and I won’t. I must leave the responsibility to the the reader to set their own boundaries and decide what is too much for them. And actually as part of my therapy it is my responsibility to not try to control this for others.
That being said, I do wince a bit when I hit the publish button thinking of certain friends of family who will find this information disturbing or sad. I really don’t want to be a bummer, I want more than anything to reach the women/men who have been altered and defined by the trauma of sexual abuse, incest or violence and help set them free. This gives me purpose to a life that has for the most part has felt expendible. I know people weep for me; they write me and tell me so. Yet, I continue writing because above all I have to give this child her voice.
Rev. Randy wishes he could have done something when we were children. I know without a doubt and have told him so that having a caring soul of an elementary classmate in my circle was enough at that point. Knowing the deep and incidious system of violence that threads through families is not something that a wide eyed first grader can take on. But still I know he wishes he could. But I want to say this to the Rev. as well as the others in my life that each and every one of you have held a different task in the the unraveling of this family dynamic for me. Each gift is unique and deeply recognized and appreciated.
This little girl is learning to do many things that she’s never been given the space or love to do. She can now look up and make eye contact. Every once in a while she will peek out from behind the dark curtain to see what’s out in the world that she may be curious about. I make her world soft and quiet which allows her to let the tension ease from her tight little body.
She’s never enjoyed music, at least most music that she’s been exposed to. The string music of my daughter’s orchestra years always left me in a corner of the auditorium weeping, it felt so emotional and beautiful. The little girl felt too raw and overwhelmed by it even though it seemed to be played by the angels in heaven themselves. Folks always found it odd that the little girl preferred silence or the sounds of nature to music, after all everyone was plugging into music for as long as I can remember. But it often felt like an assault, something else to assimiliate into my already overburdened senses, something that was put upon me against my will.
Recently something has shifted. I’ve watched Rev. Randy and his love for music. I’ve listened and followed a musician on a mission, understanding that song with meaning is something that the little girl seems to have a peeking curiosity about. Maybe I just needed this concept presented to me in a more personal and basic way for me to understand the capabilities of music, which for me now is love with a tune. Its led me to other musicians who, with careful and tentative consideration have begun to delight this little girl.
She’s been humming to herself lately and yesterday, some words formed and I heard her singing. A repitative phrase sung over and over, the release was intense. She cried and laughed straight from her heart. I sense warmth and movement from a once frozen iceberg, I see love spreading through her with song. Who would have thought? A huge, huge step for a silent, mute child whose only sounds were crying and whimpers.
So Rev. Randy, thank you. You can now unburden yourself from the notion that you weren’t helping because now you can see the gift you’ve given me. By going ahead in the world and creating love through music, you’ve helped me at exactly the right time that I’ve needed it.