The Light and The Dark

When I was a young girl, my father always told me I could be anything I want to be in this world, so long as I kept my mind in the books and off the boys. He also told me I could only ever rely on a man to leave me. He wanted me to be able to take care of myself.... His heart was in the right place. My mom & dad were together, miserably at times, for over 50 years until she passed from this life in September of last year. My parents embodied a complex balance of traditional and progressive ideologies, especially relative to parenting strategies. In the mid-1970s when I entered this world, I believe my father recognized changing worldviews as an opportunity to raise his daughters to be both independent and successful, while my mother knew there would be significant challenges and struggles resulting from the same.

For the first 12 years of my life, my family attended a Catholic church. I also attended a Baptist school from 4 years old until the end of 4th grade. From these early experiences, I learned that that the contextual underpinnings of a society are formed and distorted to the nuances of group think. The differences in religious beliefs and practices between these two congregations, for example, were simply a reflection of differences in values and perspectives among their people. Behaviors that were unacceptable under one roof were embraced under another. It was very confusing but liberating to be exposed to such diversity in thought at such a young, impressionable age. I had questions. I yearned to find the truth beyond the social dynamics of my decade, beyond the religious structures of churches, and beyond my own understanding of myself and the world in which I lived.

Along the same timeline, in the midst of so much thought provoking and profound exposure, I also experienced disheartening and demoralizing betrayal in the form of childhood trauma. The experience itself was never violent but resulted from the curiosities of a boy twice my age exploiting my naivety and trust, and that of my family members. After repeated occurrences, my family began to suspect something and requested that my favorite Aunt investigate. Our conversation was the most uncomfortable discussion I have ever had. I denied everything. I was ashamed, embarrassed, and feared my family would be disappointed in me. That was the first time I ever told a lie of such magnitude and I repeated that same lie for years. After the conversation with my Aunt, I don't remember ever seeing my Aunt again. I never saw the boy again either.

My earliest life lessons led me to realize that even the most sacred spaces are spoiled by the perversion of people. For years I have questioned the motives of everyone who came into my life, into my space. I have questioned my own motives and purpose in life. I want to believe in myself as much as my father, but everything else - everyone else - has told me something else. It took me along time to acknowledge that the only voice with power over me is my own, internal voice. I still struggle with this notion, but recently my perspective began transforming ... For the first time in a very long time, I believe there are people willing to listen without judgement or defense. I know there are people willing to shine their light on me whenever I find myself lingering in the dark ... not to highlight my scars, but to illuminate my spirit.