This is a difficult post. I came to the conclusion that I was not willing to back my manuscript with $10,000 or more. I am of two minds. One is an adult woman willing and able to take risks. The other is a fearful little girl. They are the product of an incest survivor. It took a few days for me to realize that little girl had to have her say about this entire process.
My angry, depressed dad alienated our family from everyone but his relatives.
Yet he presented the picture of a wonderful man to all except us.
I and my younger sister grew up in a home with a living room and exposed rafters. We wore the same three or four outfits to school all year long. I wore hand-me-downs from my older cousin. We each had one coat that lasted until we outgrew it. Dad purposely ran over my sister’s bike to teach her not to leave it in the driveway. Mom complained to me about her fears that he didn’t pay the bills on time. Yet he found time to help his brother with his house, bought golf clubs, bowling equipment, guns, a stereo, and records.
When we started school Mom found a job at the local drugstore. I thought to help pay bills, but years later she said it was to get out of the house and be around people who appreciated her.
He was emotionally abusive to the three of us. We lived a childhood of constant anxiety: Diann stuttered and developed asthma; I got migraines. Mom was a loving, dear, but weak, person, who my sister and I believed we had to protect. Dad took advantage of that when he took advantage of me. “Don’t tell your mom.” I knew what he meant.
Only after years of therapy did I realize she should have protected us.
I am grown now, but that little girl’s feelings and fears concerning money, security, and trust never go away.
The adult in me jumped at the chance to follow my dream of publishing a book I believed in. A few days later that little girl freaked out. Another couple days and I realized what happened.
I don’t have to give in to fear once I realize the truth. That’s the first step — recognizing the fear and where it comes from. I sat down and checked my finances, found it will not destroy me to lose $15,000, only make my life more difficult. I can handle that. I can reassure my little girl. I have.
I know there are survivors, men and women, like me out there. I hope this and the books I write will help us all. By us I mean not only survivors but all minorities: LGBTQ, blacks, Muslims, Jews, Native Americans, Latinos, immigrants, elders, . . . Who did I leave out? Imagine how strong we would be if we all united!
This certainly brought back some feelings and memories from your sister…me. It’s strange how we sometimes seem to be living life along the same path. I recently finished a painting in which I commented that life’s challenges are like water being churned up, and we have to wade through that fear and have faith that we are strong enough to come out okay. Sometimes we need another hand to hold or faith to keep us upright as we fight the current. The times we are living through now (a roaring river) multiply the fear, so we just keep wading ’til we reach a safe shore…protesting, writing with our soul, painting with our soul, wearing masks, speaking out, helping others, doing whatever we can. These were actions we couldn’t do as little girls, but we can now as adults.
I’m so glad we can still count on one another, Diann.