In my quest to heal the past, I realized my relationship with my mother began to unravel when I was in high school and sadly it could have been prevented if more honesty had been present.
I didn't tell my mom what happened and I blamed her for that too - justifying that she hadn't ASKED me what happened - which to me was proof that she didn't care. I further justified my silence by holding the assumptions that she wouldn't understand or that she wouldn't believe me or that she would think I was being overly dramatic about the whole thing or that I would get in trouble for drinking. And yes, I had good reasons for making those assumptions, but I never gave her the chance to prove me wrong because I was so set in my beliefs. I had found someone to blame - end of story.
It all started on a holiday weekend when my boyfriend came over with a couple dozen roses for me and not only would I not touch the roses, I would barely speak to him. My mother grabbed me by the arm, squeezing it so tightly her fingernails left deep impressions in my skin. Pulling me to the other side of the kitchen, she sternly told me that I was being an ungrateful little shit and that I'd better pull myself together and start acting the way I had been raised to act when someone gives me a gift.
I remember feeling utterly stunned. I felt betrayed by her. I felt that she was telling me that "being gracious" - even if it was fake - was more important than the truth of why I was acting that way or the depth of pain I was feeling inside. I decided that she didn't understand me or care about my feeling and from that moment on, those were the "glasses" I wore when it came to my mom. Everything she did or said was seen and judged from that perspective.
But the truth was, my mom didn't know WHY I was acting that way towards my boyfriend because I never told her.
What she didn't know was that the day before, he and I had been with our two best friends "celebrating" the holiday weekend aka "doing some underage drinking." My boyfriend had way too much to drink and in his drunken stupor he had decided that he was tired of waiting for me to be ready for sex and he had attempted to rape me. If his best friend hadn't heard me screaming and come to my rescue, he likely would have been successful. His friend pulled him off me with such force, he slammed him up against the wall. Too scared to move, I remained where I was on the floor, huddled in the corner of the room, my heart pounding so hard I could hear it in my ears. My best friend rushed to my side, while his friend dragged him out of the room, berating him for what he had just done to me.
I hadn't even had a chance to start processing what had just happened when his best friend ran back into the room to tell us that my boyfriend had announced he was going to kill himself and took off in his car. I remember saying, "He's driving?" He was so drunk he could barely walk - I shuddered to think he was behind the wheel of a car. We all rushed out to the front yard but he (and the car) were nowhere in sight.
At that point the tears began flowing, although it was such a jumbled mixture of emotions, I felt like my head was going to explode. I just sat there on the front lawn and sobbed, my chest heaving up and down, sandwiched between his best friend and mine, with neither of them knowing how to help me in that moment.
I felt angry and betrayed by him . . . I was afraid of him . . . I was scared to death that he was going to actually kill himself . . . . I worried that it would be my fault if he did. My sixteen year old self wasn't able to cope with all that had just happened. I needed him to come back and be ok and yet a part of me didn't want him to come back because he had broken my heart and my trust so deeply. Everything was swirling around so quickly inside of me, I was sure I would throw up.
He eventually came back - and while I was grateful he didn't kill himself - I think it was our relationship that had been killed that day. It was just never the same. The events that unfolded that day impacted me in more ways than I understood at the time and it took years for me to unravel the myriad of ways that one day had shaped my beliefs and my own behavior from that point forward.
The next day, I chose to put most of the blame on my mother. I made her the "bad guy" in this because I thought she didn't care about what happened to me and how scared I was. In my mind, she was trying to force me to act in a way that was about "keeping up appearances" instead of showing me any compassion. My boyfriend claimed he had blacked out and didn't remember what had happened (which was entirely possible) so there was no way I could talk to him about it. Our friends didn't want to talk about it. I wasn't sure I could talk about it either. I think all of us wanted to pretend it hadn't occurred.
But the truth was - SHE DIDN'T KNOW WHAT HAD HAPPENED. She didn't know the TRUTH because I didn't tell her. I didn't take responsibility for the fact that she didn't know. I was content to stick with my version of the story for decades - that my mom didn't care about my feelings. Sticking to my version of the truth kept me from having a better relationship with my mother - I see that and own that now.
So why am I recounting this highly dramatic event from my past today? Because it highlights what I see happening in our world right now. We are in an incredibly emotionally charged time and I see people doing the very same things . . . Can you see all the parallels?
- Blaming people for what they are doing/not doing without understanding the whole story.
- Reacting to things without having all the information. (and I say that without blame, it is not easy to access truthful information or to discern what IS true out of the sea of conflicting information out there)
- Blaming / shaming people for not knowing the truth, when they haven't been told the truth or are unable to find it.
- Holding onto our beliefs (and our version of the story) so tightly that we can't see anything else.
- Deciding how people are going to react before they have a chance to show us anything different.
At this moment in time, so many of us are so caught up in the emotions that are surging forth that we often can't see outside of our own stories or see the bigger picture. If we continue on this path, the divide between us is going to get wider and wider. Our relationships with others might become so damaged they will be nearly impossible to heal. Our ability to come together to find resolutions could be greatly diminished. If we operate so heavily from a place of fear like that, we might even forget what it is like to feel love and joy.
So here is my challenge to you . . . would you be willing to do any of the following?
- Listen to someone else's point of view with an ear towards where your beliefs might be in alignment instead of where they are different.
- Consider the possibility that we may be reacting to misinformation or "half of the story."
- Remember that we need many of the same things . . . to be heard, to be understood, to be supported.
- Offer compassion to others - whether we agree with them or not.
- Look inside and see where we can take some responsibility for what is occurring, instead of blaming others for what is happening.
- Be open to new information that may not line up with what we have always believed to be true.
- Ask ourselves: Do I want to know the truth? or do I want to be right? Would I rather live my life in fear? or from a place of love?
Furthermore - Can we consider the possibility that we have ALL been lied to about what is really happening in the world and that none of us know the full truth / the full story?
We can continue to believe "our side/story" is right and the "other side/story" is wrong if we want . . . but we just may find that both sides are equally flawed and equally complicit. Do you want to stay stuck in that place of separation?
I believe the time is upon us to make a change . . . to open our ears and open our hearts . . . to come together and unite - in peace and in love. We can change this world we live in if we choose to . . . one moment at a time . . . one day at a time. It truly is up to us. The question is: What are you going to choose?
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