Tuesday, 3/9/21
(Grace’s story began with “Introduction to Grace’s Era of Childhood” dated 2/02/21, then ‘Reality vs. Fantasy’ dated 2/16/21 and has been posted on Tuesdays since then.) (For an explanation of who ‘Grace’ is, please see ‘Cast of Characters’ tab on home page.)
Hello Beautiful Being, how are you doing today? Glad you could be here!
Now back to when ‘Grace’ was seven years old . . .
Seems like so much of childhood was spent just trying to survive. I don’t remember if there were threats of death or great bodily harm or ‘just’ shame that kept me from telling anyone else about the abuse.
In third grade I would go to school and cry on the teacher first thing in the morning. I never mentioned what was happening at home, I just couldn’t handle it anymore and thought she was a safe person to release some pain and tears with. She told the principle what was happening and he took me into a separate room to say, quite emphatically, that he’d had most of my older siblings in his school therefore he knew my family and he knew there was nothing bad going on, so I was just being a ‘big baby’. Right now I don’t recall what all else he said but the rebuke went on for a few minutes. (As I’m writing this the effects of that episode are moving through me – the shame, guilt, sadness, hopelessness, etc.) The principle was talking rather loudly and the door was ajar so another class could hear what he was saying. Later that day there was a fire drill and when all the students were standing outside in lines a girl turned to me and snidely said, ‘big baby’. That’s the first time I kept a bland expression, did not respond or defend myself and just essentially stared the girl down. She didn’t know what to do so she faced forward again and left me alone after that. Don’t know how my seven year old brain figured that out, but it worked, and I rarely had a problem with bullies outside of family after that. It all still hurt like hell underneath, of course, but no one knew. Between what happened with the teacher, the principle, that little ‘bully’ girl, and the exhortation from my mother about having to keep quiet that occurred around this time (see post titled “How Pearl Was(n’t) Nurtured” dated 10/19/21 for details) I learned to keep my mouth shut and how to pretend all was ‘fine’ when it really, really wasn’t. And that looking stoic when I’m being torn apart inside is something I perfected over time and was eventually able to do that with family. It didn’t stop any of their bullying or sexual/verbal/mental/emotional abuse, but it gave me a small sense of control, and it was a level of protection from how any expressed pain/tears/trying to defend myself would cause even more smug glee for those who were intent on inflicting as much pain as they could.
I’m sure the teacher I cried to didn’t intend for the principle to react like he did, she just didn’t know what to do with me and was looking for advice. For the rest of the school year it seemed like she tried to build my self esteem by giving me rewards and ribbons that weren’t really earned. She even invited me to write to her when she moved away after the school year was over. In retrospect I can understand and accept that she really did care.
The original subject for this post was going to be about something totally disconnected from Grace’s era because I just didn’t want to deal with any more of it at this time. But what I was trying to write about wouldn’t come out right and it wasn’t making much sense, so I finally gave up and came back to Grace. I was so emotionally exhausted before knowing this was going to be the topic, yet after mentioning the feelings seven year old me had there came a realization that this exhaustion is what I felt on a daily basis. Surviving the abuse and having to repress all the secrets, pain and emotions it evoked took so much energy, back then and throughout my life. As I’m working through this and no longer needing to expend so much energy trying to hide everything (even from myself), I’m being freed to enthusiastically enjoy life more. Thank God!
Another revelation came when I noticed that when immediately waking up in the morning there’s frequently a momentary peace and eagerness to live but it’s quickly displaced by a sense of dread which continues through out the day, even when doing something I truly want to do. That dread also has it’s roots in childhood. It’s not necessarily a true thought or feeling from the present, more like an ingrained habit from the past I wasn’t aware of. It is time to break that habit now.
Thank you to my third grade teacher, Mrs. M., and all the other teachers who genuinely care about their students. You’re needed. God bless you!
Meet you here on Friday? May you have some peace until then!
Today’s poem was written years ago after watching the movie “The Elephant Man” (whose real name was John Merrick).
True Beauty "Maybe my head is so big because it is so full of dreams . . . that cannot get out." John Merrick, your dreams did not die with you, in vain. They live on in the hearts of those who understand the beauty of your spirit. May you rest in peace, knowing you have touched many with your dreams that have escaped. - Pearl E. M. (Quote is from the movie)
