Silence

The girl sat on the edge of the couch intently looking at me. I wasn’t sure exactly what to think or say at this point. She completely threw me into my longest lived nightmare within a 10 minute conversation. She was asking for help and advice and all I could do was sit in silence and fear. Fear for knowing exactly how she felt and fear for her as I have seen many people in her very situation and unfortunately the cons far outweigh the pros. Outcomes are typically sad and filled with sorrow whether in direct correlation to the person or the indirect affects in the person’s close circle of friends and family.

 My first reaction was to scream at her a simple “get out, run and do it now”. But I couldn’t. I could not bring my own fears into my perspective. It would not be very fair to her. She was genuinely asking my advice as a role model and mentor to her. All I could come up with was silence. How does one proverbially break out the kid gloves of compassion and understanding when the issue at hand is a solid reminder of a heart in terror so prominent that it paralyzes you? I was grasping for calmness to answer her. It wasn’t coming fast enough. Every time I looked at her face it was inquisitive, scared, and tears slowly streaming down her cheeks. My God, my answer would either break this person completely or throw her into a titanium ball of fear to a place I would never be able to reach her. I closed my eyes and sighed, asking for strength and wisdom that wasn’t quick to come. I argued and stomped my feet at my situation. Kicking and screaming was not helping me either. Why was I in this situation and how can I possibly guide this woman who is so broken? One wrong move on my part will tear her to shreds. I was struggling with my own life and in no way ready to guide someone else’s. Alas, here I am facing fear in this woman’s eyes and struggling to keep my own at bay.

 This woman’s childhood was filled with pain, sorrow, fear and complete confusion. To this day she still harbored a self resentment based on blame that something she did brought on the beatings, hatred, and emotional torment. A person’s heart and mind is a very deep and dark chasm. I picture it much like the chambers of the Bastille; long dark hallways with innumerable rooms, closed off to any signs of light or hope. Each room carries a different memory a different emotion much like the prisoners once housed in the Bastille…each sentenced for different offenses and each awaiting their fate. This issue blew open the doors to my deepest hallway. I keep this on the deepest floor, under lock and key. It is a place I seldom visit anymore; however, it remains as a constant reminder of finding my olive leaf and mustering the strength to overcome it. This woman and her advice blew open the hallway door and every room in that chamber. It threw me in a tailspin that washed me over with every emotion I felt as a child myself, forcing the feelings through. I couldn’t push them back or suppress them. It no longer affected me in a negative way but it did serve to cloud my otherwise objective advice.

 You see I too was a child of abuse. I grew up in an alcoholic household. Both of my parents drank very heavily from the time I was 5 years old. I was raising and responsible for myself from that age as I couldn’t count on anyone to be there. I had no other family I could run to and after I started school I was terrified to talk to anyone. I always thought it was my fault. Money was tight, we were in a new place and it’s my fault that my parents couldn’t make ends meet. I was needy. I needed to eat, needed school clothes, etc. Therefore, I made my parents drink themselves into numbness and no pain. It was very logical to me then. As I grew, the situation got much worse. Domestic violence was a regular occurrence. The weekends were my enemies because they always turned violent. I remember coming home and every room in the house destroyed, furniture broken, food trashed and thrown all over the kitchen. My dad was never home since he was in jail and mom was lying on the couch so beaten at times I caught my breath seeing her. My pre-teens got worse. I started rebelling and the violence remained, although we added emotional abuse to the long list of sorrows. My parents in their drunken states destroyed me verbally and emotionally. I was their pincushion, their net for venting. The last fight I remember, I jumped between my parents because my dad had a butcher’s knife, arm up ready to bring it down in force. I don’t ever remember feeling the sheer terror I did that night. I ran between them, facing my dad, harboring my mom. I remember he looked at me and his eyes softened. The knife slowly slipped between his fingers and he collapsed. He slid down the wall in a complete alcoholic coma. My mother stood there still talking although the fear of watching my dad in a complete coma drowned out everything around me. Something changed in me that night. I still can’t explain what exactly it was. After that it was about survival. I set my goal to reaching 18 so I could get out. I did go to college and moved away for a while. My dad went to rehab and he and I built a very strong relationship. He became the rock and man I knew he always would be. My mother, sadly, never got over the drinking and she destroyed herself. I don’t know where she is today and sadly enough I pray she is fine but do not hold an ounce of desire to reach out.  

 It took me years to come to terms with my childhood and not use it as an excuse to be a non-productive member of society either drinking or on drugs or out for the weekend go times that leave one so empty come the sunrise on Monday morning. But I have overcome it. I am a stronger person for it and wouldn’t be the survivor I am today without having gone through it. I also learned to forgive; myself, my parents and anyone else I come into contact that needs it. You see I never told anyone what I was going through at home and for that reason cannot look another in the face and assume their life is perfect. Silence is fear’s greatest friend. It protects fear and allows it to harbor deep within you.

 Now this girl, poor and terrified sitting on the couch intently making a plea for help….she too has had a similar background. The issue at hand is that she never dealt with her fear or past, is not able to be alone in her own house because she is forced to think and see herself in true light. She went from that childhood to marrying a man she thought would be her savior, her security blanket, the one person in her life that would justify and protect her. Unfortunately, not even God can protect you from yourself, especially when you are too busy not to listen. He on the other hand married a broken woman with the intent to fix her and be her champion. Now he has started to drink to bury his perceived failures and the rage and sorrow has turned physically and domestically raw. The beatings have started in her marriage. So what do I say? How do you tell a person to run when the person she is running from is the champion of her heart.

 So with all the calmness and strength I could muster I squeezed her hand tightly and sat down next to her. My own Bastille was starting the process of lock down again and we began talking. I’m not sure how this situation will work out, but I know I won’t leave her…regardless of her choices and my begging. I had one friend end up in a wheelchair, stabbed 28 times by her husband and survived raising 4 children…I know it’s possible, I just hope this woman doesn’t wait until she is robbed of her very freedom. It is truly sad when all you can do is sit patiently on the sidelines and watch this play out, when your well intended words are cast upon deaf ears and your greatest fear is the ending play of the game.

Much like a paladin headed into battle…I brace and prepare myself for a war.  I cannot win and have no control over the situations that come my way. I only hope that I can face the battle with the heart of a paladin and his noble strength to survive it.