iamenvd.org
16th, December, 2022
An open letter to the following:
Ms. Shahida Arabi, Dr. Brené Brown, Ms. Tarana Burke, Ms. Ashley C. Ford, and, since I’m listing alphabetically, last but certainly not least, Madonna.
Dear all,
This letter began as a note to Dr. Brown, specifically in response to her recent podcast episode re: her summer sabbatical. But in truth, this letter began years ago, when I read Dr. Brown’s first book, The Gifts of Imperfection, at my therapist’s suggestion “You’re a social worker, you might resonate with Brené Brown’s work!” has been one of the greatest understatements uttered in my direction. Her work has changed the trajectory of my life.
This letter ALSO began decades ago as an awkward, awestruck, adoring fan of Madonna, absorbing encouragement from her beautiful rebellion and renegade persona. Madonna, appropriately named, from the perspective of this spiritual agnostic, was a revolution.
This letter is to all of you and to me. I’ve written it to my badass self, to the part of me willing to grow, and love, and forgive. I’ve written this letter to amazing women who have, without always knowing it, traveled treacherous footpaths of memory and magic.
I learned to loathe myself. At eighteen months . . . at two, eight, ten, thirteen . . . even thirty. I’d believed what I was taught, from birth: to hate myself. It was safer than questioning the intentions of my primary care-givers. For YEARS, until VERY recently, I worked – tirelessly – to control my awful self. I fought to protect my family while symultaneously trying not to poison them with my tainted love.
I distinctly remember the first time I heard Ms. Tarana Burke; she was being interviewed by “Breneezy” (Brené’ Brown’s nickname, I assume), they were on Unlocking Us, Dr. Brown’s podcast.
[Sidenote: Knowing that women who I have learned so much from love and support one another is a signal, a beacon, that we, humans, will be okay. We CAN do hard things (thanks Glennon), ESPECIALLY when we run and point to one another (thank you Abby ;-)]
I was struck dumb! Not by what Ms. Burke said but HOW she’d said it. “She does not take responsibility for her abuse?!” I spoke aloud with incredulity. I was in my sister-in-law’s sign shop, on a walk in my neighborhood or soaking in a hot bath. I don’t remember WHERE I was but I distinctly remember the revelation: She doesn’t apologize for the abuse she suffered?!? It was a question as well as a statement. I wondered: How can I feel similarly assured in my own goodness?? How might I feel if I acknowledged my goodness?!
Something about her voice, its tone, the confidence she exuded, EVEN when stating that she’d been abused.
Until a few years ago, I was unable to remember integral moments of my formative years. Abuse is an inconvenient truth but, nevertheless, it is the truth. It is my truth. Abuse is an integral part of who I am.
Today I appreciate what trauma has given to me. I am claiming my power despite and BECAUSE of abuse. Ms. Burke told me that the shame I’d been carrying for my abusers and those abused alongside me could and SHOULD be dropped.
The pain that shaped me was NEVER mine to hold. The tricky part, I knew instinctively, would be training my brain to let the grasp slip, allowing the well-worn, weighted blanket of self-hatred to release its hold on my psyche; allowing it to slide off the bed (my life) where it believed it had a well-earned and legitimate purpose.
Shame and self-hatred HAD served their purpose. That purpose is no longer serving ME or those I love.
My brain, my personality, was wired around – a result of – sustained abuse; shame was the organizing principle. I have learned from Tarana and other survivors that before one becomes a victim, there is an abuser.
One’s abuser must convince them they deserve abuse. Effectively disguising abuse as love. See grooming.
[Oxford English via Google: Grooming – The practice of preparing or training someone for a particular purpose or activity.]
Shame was a construct necessary for my survival. I’ll say that again. Although those I’ve addressed, particularly those named above, need not be reminded, the statement is important: Victimization and self-shaming was necessary for my own SURVIVAL.
Despite intolerable abuse, I chose to victimize myself, because the alternative was not to be.
Thankfully, I am fortunate to mother children of my own, two beautifully wise teachers. I’ve gained perspective. I understand how truly vulnerable I was. When I came across this photo several years ago, I remembered the thoughts that occupied my mind. I was shocked by how young I was.
I have, painfully, absorbed the idea: I did not deserve the way I was treated. Slowly, my worth settles in my consciousness. It is simultaneously terrible and wonderful to realize that you have exhausted yourself without reason. All that is required of me is to be kind, to everyone, including myself.
Tougher to swallow: I have, as all survivors do, re-enacted my trauma, profoundly impacting – often injuring – those dearest to me. THIS SHAME IS MINE.
Thankfully, I have humility and a desire to address my transgressions. I possess the courage and ability to apologize, to ask for forgiveness. And thank GOD for good therapists!
Despite a master’s degree in social work and varied clinical experience with survivors of abuse, I failed to recognize my own experience as abuse, my own behavior as abusive. It was Ms. Shahida Arabi who nudged me to do so.
Years ago, while reading Ms. Arabi’s book The Highly Sensitive Person’s Guide to Dealing with Toxic People, I began the exhausting process of sifting truth from a lifetime of lies.
I distinctly remember writing “My Dad is dangerous” in my journal, certain I was betraying him just by writing the words.
Ms. Ford, your book, Somebody’s Daughter resonated with me in obvious and unimaginable ways. Your vivid imagery of snakes clinging to one another as your grandmother lit the pit she’d dug on fire will never leave my mind’s eye.
Like her, I felt it was better to burn than to pull away. Now, in my more enlightened moments I understand that I am NOT the problem in the family that I was born into OR in the family that I gave birth to.
I’ve replaced insidious shame with pride; having survived what many are unable to comprehend. I am stronger and more unique than I realized, in part because of my past.
In an interview, Ms. Ford discussed her commitment to self-care, particularly while writing her memoir. This hit me profoundly: “This is difficult!” The truth – that my body has ALWAYS known but my brain has recently pieced together — took my breath away.
I have since pulled back on my own writing project.
Make no mistake, my intention is to be a New York Times Best-selling author.
For now, however, I’ve been focusing on my blog, writing about topics that are considerably less intense. Thank you – all – for setting an example. For valuing yourselves, your experiences and for sharing them with the world. In doing so, you’ve honored me, my experience and allowed me to share and honor my truest, most beautiful self. Thank you for lending your light to our shared path.
Sincerely,
envd
*carpe diem*
Collecting Pieces of Me 