I am not going to deny that there haven't been a lot of tough days- which is not to diminish the awareness of my privilege that has run through my consciousness ever since I was a small child, when at the age of 5 I told my dad that I was having problems (more on that later) to which he crisply replied, "What kind of problems could you have at such a young age? You don't know hunger, you have a home and a family...." The rest is a blur of inner anguish. Here was the person I relied on the most to protect me who told me I was wrong to have any psychological difficulties. I don't think I ever directly came to my father on my own behalf for anything other than practical considerations (of which there were many growing up- rides, permission, money for something I needed) for the rest of my life. So while there was a surplus of culture, intellectual discourse and financial stability my parents were both emotionally elusive and absorbed with non family matters. To a certain extent, I was raised with the expectation of worldly engagement and success so my mother could mold her sole female offspring to engage with the world in a way she lacked the confidence and grit to try.
Call me crazy (well my kids do) but I found parenting the most amazing balm for the pain of my childhood. The many daily interactions between myself and my children brewed a kind of intoxicating peace inside me, Despite the nutty petty conflicts, minor disasters and concerns, the ongoing worries over their character, health, basic ability, physical prowess, emotional intelligence, I felt a kind of abiding love for them which is hard to put in to words.
It's been one roller coaster of a week. Glued to the screen during Dr. Ford's testimony and weeping constantly. I too was pinned down, I too cried for help, I too felt threatened with bodily harm. Heard that laughter of derision. The prickly part of my situation was that I was around my tormentors, my older brothers, constantly growing up, they were my family members. Then I wonder where my father and mother, who should have protected me but were occupied elsewhere, and how, at this time in my life, I have to accept that they loved me but not in the way I needed. That I was put upon in measures large and small for all my formative years- and then I understand the tears, And why they fall. And why it's hard to heal, despite your greatest desires to.
