Kristina
I honestly do not remember anyone in my family feeling shame over his behavior; maybe embarrassment. Unspoken words and feelings, we all shared the pain without any vocalizations. People of our generation and the generation before us simply did not speak of such things. We hid them behind our closed doors, relegated to accept our lot in life. We smiled and enjoyed the rare moments of quiet and solitude while he was either at work or passed out in his favorite chair. We lived for the moments we could laugh and play; not nearly enough of them.
We lived in a middle-class suburb on a quiet street in an unassuming house with its perfectly manicured lawn. To the outside world our family seemed normal; a respected father, adored mother and well behaved children. We played normal so well. We perfected our escapes from realities. We lost ourselves in the abyss between silent misery and stolen moments of laughter. He lost himself in the contents of the refrigerator in our garage, believing we were oblivious to his problem. His increasingly staggering gait gave proof to his drunkenness. The alcohol could have been the excuse for his anger and violence, but quite frankly, he was cruel without the aid of the beer. Also, sadly, we welcomed the moment he became so intoxicated that he ended up incapacitated.
For myself, ironically, I felt lucky. His cruelty was never directed towards small children. I was the mascot of the family, providing entertainment to the rest. He was my grandpa, Papa, and I lived with him a relatively short period until my mother rescued me from this home she had fled from years before. I had been untouched from the physical violence. My scars and bruises were never evident to the naked eye. My wounds were internally deep. I witnessed the beatings and cruel words.
Some of my most vivid memories were scenes of intolerable cruelty witnessed from a dark corner of the hallway or wrapped safely in my great-great grandmother’s arms, her attempts to shield me. He beat my Nanny, grandma, until she wept out loud. He beat my aunt and uncle until they pleaded for him to stop. All the while, he spat out obscenities and insults. After the violence ended, we never spoke of them. We mindlessly continued to move through our lives. We were resigned to the fact that nothing would come of speaking out. Our community would never believe that this man could terrorize his own family. After all, this was the man who supported his wife’s elderly grandmother, cared for a mentally retarded son who was not biologically his own and nursed his physically ailing wife.
Because I was taught to hide my feelings, I believed that this was normal behavior. I was destined to repeat the cycle. The cycle of allowing another human being to control and abuse me. For many years I did allow the men in my life to physically and mentally tear me down. Thankfully, I finally learned to break the cycle and respect myself. Allowing myself to speak about my childhood, working through the pain and believing that no one should be treated so horribly, has been the vehicle to my recovery.
***
Kristina blogs at Live, Laugh, Love.
24 Responses to “Kristina”
Leave a Reply
Thank you so much for sharing your story.
Thank you so much for sharing your story here, Kristina.
And huge respect for learning to break the cycle, and find your “vehicle.”
We value your unsilencing.
am happy that increasingly, families and their surviving members are becoming aware this this kind of silenced behaviour is NOT normal, not okay. we’re getting there and stories like yours help people come to terms with their own histories.
thanks.
Silence is not golden sound is. You found your voice and therefore the golden sound it is will ring out forever. Bless you and keep the sound alive.
“We played normal so well”…
This is exactly the purpose behind Violence UnSilenced. To get stories like yours out in the light where they can be exposed for what they are. Nobody should have to suffer like you and your family did. No matter what excuses are offered up.
It’s because of people like you who are willing to put the “dirty little secrets” out there that the awareness of domestic violence has risen so much in the last 10 years. And it takes an uncommon courage to set aside the embarrassment, the shame so that others can know that they don’t have to hide behind “normal”.
And you’ve also made another important point. Abusers take all forms. They’re not just guys in dirty white tank shirts living in trailer parks. They’re doctors and stockbrokers and auto mechanics and dirt farmers. They’re schoolteachers and nurses and hairdressers. They’re pillars of the community and they’re the angry, disagreeable old cuss at the end of the street.
Your story, like all the others, breaks my heart. But your courage, like all the others, makes it sing. Thank you. For adding one more voice to the chorus, for telling those in the same situation you endured that they can find their voices too.
I smile widely and mentally shout very loud every time I see the cycle has been broken.
It can take many years and a multitude of attempts to do, but first, you have to realize that what you’re in IS a cycle desperately in need of breaking. This can be oh so challenging when your childhood version of “normal” is adopted by your adult self.
So happy that you made the leap and glad you shared your story!
No child should ever have to witness that kind of horror. Thank you for sharing your story. You should stand proud at your ability to break the cycle!
Thank you for having the courage to share your story with us.
Thank you so much for sharing.
Scars from such a young age rarely fade – so good of you to share your story here.
Thank you for sharing this.
It is an excellent reminder that indirect abuse, watching it happen, has the same results as direct abuse.
I once wrote in here about women who grew up with the violence, not knowing how to live with sane normals. It takes an incredible amount of courage and effort to find that place to change, to break the cycle. Bravo my dear friend, Thank you for sharing your story! (Hugs)Indigo
I know how hard it is to witness that kind of abuse, feel incredibly terrified by it, and yet accept it as normal–because you have no choice. I am so sorry. You are a very brave woman to to not allow that cycle of behavior to define you.
Blessings and Light to you.
I’m so glad you broke the cycle.
Thank you all for your encouraging words! I lived the “normal” cycle for many years. I was in an abusive relationship myself for a while but I have refused to endure such heartache any longer. It takes a loooong time but it can be done. Thank you again and I pray that everyone out there is safe today!
thank you for sharing this
Painful memories are all the more painful and fresh after the sharing…it’s like ripping off a scab…healing takes longer, thanks for ripping off the scab
Sandi
Thanks for sharing your story, and for ending the cycle of abuse.
The power of terror that selfish person held over your family is unjustifiable. I cant even make myself call him a “man” because a real man would never behave in such a way (likewise for a woman). It disgusts me that he would beat his own family. It disgusts me that no one spoke about it. It disgusts me because I see my own family in your story all too clearly. Good God. Thank you for being strong enough to share and stop the cycle of abuse.
Sometimes that whole’ ‘Til death us do part’ thing becomes a wish rather than a promise. I feel for your family, for the trap in which they thought they were ensnared, and congratulate whoever in it found the strength to call their relationship with that monster dead.
I’m so happy to hear you were able to find the support, knowledge, and strength you needed to break the cycle. Often overlooked in abusive homes are the witnesses to the abuse — those who don’t bear the physical scars you describe, but those who bear the emotional ones. Many times (not all, but many), abusers learned to be abusive not by being abused, but by witnessing abuse as a child. Thank you for sharing your story and best of luck, health, and happiness to you.
Thank you for sharing your story.
Thank you for having the courage to share your story. I am so glad that you have been saved by your mother and decided to break the cycle. Have a wonderful day, Kristina
The people who are supposed to take care of us and protect us…what the hell happens to them to turn them into monsters. Were they always monsters? I hope by telling your story you are being freed from all those horrible memories.
Peace to you.