This essay is dedicated to my children. All of them.
Close, interpersonal and familiar relations provide the linkages and connections within small communities. Many of us are raised very close to family and friends, our relationships are intertwined with both blood and proximity. Our relationships are tangible and intimate bonds. Within the context of the Black Community, and with respect to the aftermath of tragic and traumatic events, we seldomly get a chance to exhale before the onset of the next blow. As of late, we have community members who have been impacted by a string of deaths, effected by terminal illness, violence, floods and fires. Some of us are seriously wondering if a pestilence of frogs or locusts will be next.
A mere generation ago, we were enveloped in the care and traditions of our elders but with the passing of time and our beloved people, we are left with the memorialized traces of our pasts. Tragedy has a way of bringing intense emotions bubbling to the surface and the things that we think we may have dealt with erupt; Sometimes dramatically so. We tell ourselves that we are not victims, that we are healed or that we are stronger for enduring what we have experienced but little do we know; We’ve been merely coping and coping can be easily disguised as thriving. Ask me how I know…
In an attempt to empower my children, I have reared them with a “get over it” attitude. I have peppered my love, care and affection for them with bouts of expecting them to be strong in the face of adversity. I presumed that they should be as mentally agile as I had to be. Instead, I have been insensitive to their emotional needs and I have essentially denied them their traumatic experiences and therefore been unsupportive of their mental health and wellbeing. Thankfully, my children don’t have to face the challenges of my childhood; Unfortunately, they must face the challenges of their own. I appreciate that because they love me, they can abide me but I am deeply and eternally apologetic for my insensitivity toward them. I am committed to being better.
As I do the self-work of learning how to examine my life through a trauma informed lens, I am realizing just how many things I have stuffed down and suffocated so that I could get on with the business of living. From a very young age, I understood that life isn’t easily navigated when plagued with painful memories from the past. I often pride myself at my own resiliency, having left home at the age of 16, I’ve been reliant on my own efforts and abilities and this experience has deeply influenced my self-confidence. I know that I am resilient because I am familiar with my ability to recover, adjust and change.
Or am I?
Could it be that I’ve become really really good at staying busy, self-soothing, explaining and at times even justifying the most difficult times in my childhood? The truth is, I was raised by parents who had a tumultuous relationship to say the least. I am a product of growing up having witnessed domestic violence and try as I might, I am deeply effected by it. The reality is, much of my developmental years were spent inside of a chaotic, turbulent environment and often, I was hyper-vigilant and on edge.
Leaving home at 16 forced an accelerated coming of age. Looking back, I don’t know that I was more mature than my peers but I did have responsibilities and realities that I had to manage on my own. I’m a staunch believer in “fake it ‘til you make it” and I’m pretty sure faking it is exactly what I was doing most of the time and, in an intentional quest to overcome the wounds of my childhood, I bandaged them because I didn’t understand the gravity of healing them.
Obviously, my childhood trauma has helped to shape me and although it certainly hasn’t defined who I am entirely; Many of the characteristics that I appreciate about myself are derived from learning, growing and becoming empowered from it. The good, the bad and the ugly have all had an impact on my becoming but in truth, it’s the bad and the ugly I’m learning to process, properly file away and heal from the emotional damage caused by domestic violence and the aftermath of growing up way too fast. And, it’s ok.
I am not special and my story likely resonates with many people. The older I get, the less afraid I am of my past. Most of us are not well versed in or are familiar with the vocabulary of trauma, grief and bereavement but I am in the process of appreciating these words. Far too many of us are ignorant to the processes of how to actually heal. In my case, I had to admit that there are some things I had to accept. Not mask or bury or ignore or make peace with, but to accept. In the interest of my own mental health and physical wellbeing, in the interest of protecting the relationships I have with each of my children, the relationships that they have with each other. In the effort of supporting the mental health of the people within my community; I am finally learning, growing, healing and living post trauma.
I’m human and so I’m giving myself a little grace along this journey. Sure, I had a stunted emotional capacity but, I am committed to becoming a better, more empathetic mother, wife, sister and friend. I am thankful for the resources that are being offered up and available within community and I encourage everyone who can to take advantage of the opportunity to learn to face our proverbial demons and heal. I feel lighter. We all deserve this freedom.
Light Reflected Is Enlightenment Infinite
~R
BlackLit101 