The college that my parents determined that I should attend did not have a swimming pool. "Not important" they decided for me. I loved to swim and was good at it. One semester I took a life saving class which was given at the town pool, a mile or so from campus. I was clearly the best swimmer in the class and the instructor realized it and used me for purpose of demonstration. No big deal. Not even for me. One of the most highly rated colleges in the country, my first year, I was on the verge of flunking out and I went home for Christmas vacation. Fights between my mother and my younger sister, Barbara had esscellated - one a daily basis Barbara would come home from school and throw her winter coat on the couch in the living room. Our mother would tell her to hang it up and the fight went on from there. No resolution: how could anyone solve such a horrible problem. Not them, for sure. I surrendered and would hang up Barbara's coat before my mother could start screaming at her. The second floor, where our bedrooms were, had a staircase which switch directions in the middle and had a small landing there. Now that I am older the rememberance of some incidents - and my parents' handling of them - infuriates me. One day while on the second floor Mom and Barbara got into a screaming fight, one of them threw a sewing machine at the other and they proceeded to tumble down the stairs while trying their best to strangle each other. When my father came home from work and for some unknown reason was unable to ignore what had happened he sat me down and gave me that old favorite - the parental lecture. It was my responsability to keep peace in the family. To keep family members from literally trying to kill each other. He was the Attorney General of Michigan!! I wen back to college and my best friend asked me how my vacation had been. I started to say, "Oh, it was fine.." when the dam broke. I put my head on the table we were sitting, sobbing, "It was awful."
Why go back and write about this stuff. My first reason is for myself to articulate the craziness of the abuse that I endured and accepted as - acceptable!! To clear them out of my head so when the come up again - like hairballs - I can remind myself that I have already written about that and there is no need to go over it again. The second reason is to reach out to other who have been in similar situation, to help them to know they were not alone and they can let go of the fear attached to the memories. Even more, it is so any person - adult or child - who is in a similar situation can read this, recognize the sickness of the situation and get some help.
One curse of this behavior is that the victim comes to believe the persecutors that she is responsible for stopping this kind of behavior and, maybe worse, that the person who criticizes for her failure to do show is showing how much he loves her. As she goes through life, being criticized becomes seen as an expression of affection, even love.
I think I'm going to throw up.
P.S. I am not going to do any editing, correcting at this time; I'm too sick.
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