”A Time To Speak”, my Mother’s autobiography.
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I grew up ashamed of my parents. There is a sense in which this was the way I knew to reject the circumstances of my childhood, and even at a very early age, begin to strive for a better way of life for myself. In time the tendency to judge and to reject became the unhealthy emotion of shame. At the time I could not know that this rejection was not beneficial for me.
I have recently begun to remember the intensity of this emotion especially in my teenage years. The impetus for this memory has been the publication of my mother’s autobiography.
My mother has always wanted to write this book. She has wanted to tell her story for years. After my father died in 1995 she began to write about his life. Eventually she began to write about her own.
I am proud of my mother for this accomplishment. She spent many long hours typing her memories on her typewriter. It was very important to her that she tell my father’s story and then once that was written to tell her own. Many times I called and asked what she was doing and she said that she was in the other room typing. That meant that she working on the book. What little I have helped with the editing and publication has been very miniscule in comparison to what she has done. When asked, I felt that it was only right that I try to help in whatever way I could.
Now that the book has become a reality I have mixed feelings. It brings back these old issues that I thought I had somehow avoided. Yes, I have been ashamed of my past. I don’t talk much about the first years of my life. I learned over time that one way to deal with the past is to not speak of it, or think about it. Today, I am something different.
I don’t think I have been in denial; I think that I have assumed that it was over with. My past is very confusing. There were all of the eye surgeries, poverty and family issues. I was a kid that got picked on in school because of my poor vision. I chose to retreat, to go inward. When I was not having eye surgery downtime I isolated myself in my room and read. When I could not read because of the eye problems I simply made up stories in my head. And, my mother was there to read to me. She valued education and did everything that she could to encourage her daughters to read and to learn, this included learning to read out loud to us herself. This was a heroic achievement, yet, I have never considered it as such even though some of my fondest childhood memories are of the three of us girls around my mother who was reading aloud to us.
Over time I have used various methods to ‘let go’ of my past. What this meant was letting go of the feelings that had been evoked, primarily this feeling was shame. About 15 years ago I did a method called rebirthing which is basically a breathing technique. As part of the work I was doing then I discussed with my rebirther by core beliefs, we came to a conclusion that my core belief about myself was “I am not good enough”. I worked on turning this around into “I am good enough” and “I deserve to be here”.
I became very aware of what is called “victim consciousness.” In other words I processed the world from the point of view of a victim. Poor me, I was called four-eyes when I was in school. Poor me, my family was poor. No one drove a car. We lived in the project.
So, I worked on shedding my victim consciousness. That was my story then. Today my story is whatever I want it to be. I thought the ability to feel shame when reminded of those early years had gone away. When I read my mother’s book I was intensely reminded that they had not.
I think a thing keeps coming up to be healed until it is healed. For me, my mother’s book gives me the opportunity to remember my past in a more positive light. I am very proud of my mother for seeing this project through. Now that the book is published and I can hold it in my hand, I am given a chance to see my life from a different perspective. When I feel those tinges of shame I can choose let go of them one more time. For my mother it is a time to speak, for me possibly a time to listen.
My father’s Rubik’s Cube Art
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My dad could be downright weird and exasperating and there were about three years while I was a teenager when I tried not to speak to him at all. Now I feel that he taught me the true meaning of being an individual. He pursued his hobbies such as the Rubik’s cube single-mindedly. A second book which has just been published by my sister features his cube art. Sarah published both together and they complement each other nicely. It is a beautiful little book with an introduction by me and great editorial work by my nephew John. For more information on both books, as well as my nephew’s great video about the cube book, see my sister’s website: www.wordthunder.com.
