the first lock box

I have realized that my brain works a bit differently than most.  as I’m faced with pain, I emotionally shut down…my brain will then ‘lock away’ not only the event, but the pain along with it.  my body’s way of surviving… a defense mechanism. 

throughout my adult life, I have discovered these little ‘lock boxes’, as they are triggered open.  what triggers them has differed, and never expected.  all I know is, once opened.. there is no closing it again, completely.  the contents leak out as they please.  I have spent the better part of my life, choosing to ignore the leaking contents.  what has this accomplished?  not a single thing.  it didn’t change the reality of the contents of each box.  and it certainly didn’t make me forget.  all it has really done… robbed me of real joy in my life.

so, here we go…..

the first box to be triggered, were memories of being physically abused, by my dad..  a man who chose to raise me as his own.  which makes the following so much more difficult to understand.  my memories were of being knocked around, slapped, thrown against walls by the hair of my head, beaten with belts and men’s rubber sandals.  beaten until I would wet my pants, just so he could beat me for that.  not sure how young I was when it started, but I do know that through conversations with family members, I had to have been barely two and a half. 

dad had remarried, and to this day.. I cannot comprehend how she, my stepmother, could stand by and allow this to happen.  I had a mother that she could have called to come get me.. to protect me.  maybe she was afraid of him?  maybe she loved me, and didn’t want to lose me?  but if you can answer yes to those questions… why didn’t she leave? and if she loved me, why didn’t she protect me?  just a series of questions.. why and how.. that will never have answers.  believe me, I have tried getting those answers.. to no avail.  I have struggled from time to time, with the anger that triggers.  I love this woman.  she was an additional ‘mom’.. not a stepmom to me.  I wish she could give me answers.  but I am guessing.. she doesn’t have any.  in spite of it all, I forgive her.

as an adult, while in professional therapy, I  confronted my dad.  sadly.. I got nowhere.  He is a broken man who cannot come to terms with the damage he has inflicted.  not to say that he is oblivious to it… just the opposite.  he knows he has caused pain and suffering, and the guilt is eating him from the inside, out.  yet, he will never fully admit to the list of damages.  I believe that is because he simply cannot admit it to himself, what a monster he used to be.  for the record, I love my dad very much.  I have forgiven him, for all the harm he has done to me.  I have not forgotten.. and I am still dealing with the fallout of his actions and behavior.  but forgiveness is for the victim.. not the perpetrator.  maybe it helps, because I know he is sorry…  I see it every time I look at him.  I hear it in his voice, every time I talk to him.  and the funny part is, I want him to forgive himself.. desperately.

just a tiny bit of detail, my dad is a victim of the Vietnam war.. in every ugly way you can imagine.  he came home to a nation who hated him, spat on him, and called him the enemy.  there were no hero’s welcome for those men.  and our government then added insult to injury by refusing to treat their physical and mental anguishes.. and to this day, he is fighting to be recognized for his service of country.  he suffers from all of the effects of agent orange, and the mental anguish of war itself.  does any of this excuse what he did to me, or anyone else?  absolutely not!!  but can I empathize with a damaged and broken man, yes.. I can.  thanks be to God.  Amen.