Children are pretty amazing. They are resilient, literal, bright eyed and curious. They are also easily victimized. Too often, they are victimized without the adults in their world really even being aware of it.
A few nights ago, my husband and I were watching TV after a long day. I was tired, and just wanted to be entertained for a few minutes while awaiting bedtime. Out of the blue he clapped his hands, once, very loudly. In the quiet room, it sounded like a shot going off and I reacted much
as if one had. I jumped physically which made him chuckle, but what he didn't see is that my insides were shaking horribly. My heart felt as if it were trying to escape my body. I was dizzy for a few seconds, felt like I was going to throw up, got A-N-G-R-Y! Then wanted to cry and run away and become invisible. All of that happened in the time it takes you to speak the words, "one, two, three". I jumped up yelling at him to STOP doing THAT! I called him a few names (and even as I heard myself I was surprised at my words) all the time yelling louder and louder, I stormed off to a spare room and slammed the door shut! Then I spent hours trying to calm my insides down. I spent a lot of tears that I had no control over. I wasn't feeling sorry for myself, I wasn't even particularly hurt, I just couldn't stop the tears. I wondered what on earth was wrong with me. After five or six hours, I fell asleep finally.
When I woke up, I still wanted to cry. He had gone to work. Even though my insides were no longer shaking or trembling, I still had to fight to keep from crying and even then an errant tear would leak out and slide down my cheek from time-to-time throughout the day. It seems like such an over-the-top-reaction for one hand-clap.
That feeling stayed beside me all day as I went about my duties. And then, as I was washing dishes, I saw a distant scenario play out in my mind. I saw my step-dad standing between the dining room table and the living room. The light from the living room windows turned him into a dark silhouette surrounded by deep orange curtains that glowed bright pumpkin from the sunlight coming through them. He unhooked his belt, and whipped it free of himself. As it came free of his belt loops, he immediately folded it in half and swung it against the table which made it crack like thunder. That harsh, sudden, loud, unexpected sound signaled that someone was about to get beaten. Either me, my mom or one of my little sisters. It was the sound of terror coming. We would all flinch, and look at one another, wild eyed, wondering who was "going to get it". The bile would rise up in my throat not knowing who was going to get hurt and not knowing of any way I could stop it. Many times I placed myself between my little sisters and that belt. I wasn't there to take it many times, but when I could, I did. I'm sure it wasn't enough.
After more than 45 years, I finally realized why, in less than three seconds, sudden sounds make me angry, scared, want to run and then want to become invisible. It was ingrained into my being as a child to respond to that sudden sound with "fight-or-flight". I remember the day when "fight" was the only course of action I would consider. It has stayed with me throughout my lifetime, but the flight response is close on it's heels.
No comments:
Post a Comment