Let me first tell you a story of a little girl, a girl who was scared and tired of the stuff that was going on at home. She was in 1st grade and thought that maybe, just maybe, if she told someone her story they would be able to help. She really liked her teacher, so one day she stayed behind at recess time to talk to her.
The little girl stood there in the shadow of the teacher, twisting her hands together in nervousness, standing on her own toes, wriggling in the nervousness and shame of what she was about to tell. She had been told not to tell by her evil sperm donor, but this was something that her gut told her she needed to tell about. This was not a secret she should keep. Her blonde hair hung in her face, dirty and greasy it hung in strands covering her eyes. Her shirt was dirty and ragged looking, her pants torn and frayed and nearly 2 inches too short. As she looked down at her feet she could hear the taunts of the others students "You expecting a flood?" they would jeer while laughing at her misery, if only a flood would come and wash her away from this horribly sad world she had to live in. If only they had to endure the pain and suffering she had to, maybe then they wouldn't tease her quite so much.
She looked up at her teacher and said in a quiet voice, barely audible"my daddy hurts me" The teacher smiled her friendly smile and replies "well sometimes daddy has to spank because we do things wrong. He's just trying to teach you to be a good girl" The little girl feels the hot tears welling up in her eye, draws a deep breath of courage and says "no, he doesn't spank me, he hurts me down there" with trembling hands she points to her midsection and waits with bated breath for the teacher to speak. This is it she thought, now I can be saved. Her disappointment had only just begun. As she looked up at her teacher, she knew by the smile, the pause in reply, the vacant look in her eyes, the girl knew she was not going to get help today. The teacher simply replied "but dear, that's how our daddy shows us he loves us" With that the little girl put her fake smile back on and walked away, she would not be saved today!
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That little girl grew up with that memory permanently embedded in her mind. She never forgot those words..that's how daddy shows that he loves us....she clearly had been hurt by her daddy too. I guess it was more common place back then. or perhaps she just didn't want to get involved, I'm not sure. One thing i know for sure.....that was not the right answer and that is why I write this blog! I spent many years trying to figure out why that teacher would tell me such a thing, why would she think it was ok? Even if she had been abused herself, she was now a grown-up, she could have and should have helped me escape. What is it with this mentality of it happened to me so that makes it ok for me to do it to others or to watch it happen to others and turn a blind eye upon it? I know it is now the law that teachers and doctors who suspect abuse must report it, I am not sure if it was back then or not. It was the late 70's so I don't think the law had actually been passed yet. Perhaps that teacher was just living with the mentality of what happens at home stays at home and felt she was only responsible for what happened in her classroom. Perhaps she thought it best that she not get involved. I don't know what she was thinking, but again I say it was wrong and I am glad the rules have changed so that other children can be saved.
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The other day I was reading Harry Potter to my son, it was the 6th book and we were reading the chapter where Dumbledore shows Harry the first Slughorn memory...the one that had been tampered with. I couldn't help but think to myself that is how a lot of my memories feel, blurry and faded, like I don't know exactly what really happened. The voices aren't quite right, the scenes are quite clear, and I wonder once again if there is something blocking that darkness. I know I had my zone that I would go into, that place where I could go in my mind to escape the reality I was stuck in. I know I have darkness hidden in my mind that apparently was too evil for me to cope with so my mind protected me by making me forget. I am of two minds when it comes to those memories...a part of me wants to know and a part of me wants to keep it all hidden away and never know just how bad it really was. That part of me believes that if it was so bad that I had to block it out and forget it, then perhaps I really just don't want to know! Perhaps it truly is best left forgotten forever! But then again, if Harry had not gotten the true memory then perhaps he never would have defeated Voldemort. Perhaps I will never defeat my Voldemort until I find my inner Harry Potter and reveal those memories.
I also think it would be really cool to have one of those pensieves so I could dump my memories that I don't want and only keep the good ones! THAT would be awesome!
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Alright people, that's it for this weeks edition of Thoughtful Thursday! Enjoy your weekend! My magical words of wisdom for the week....find your inner Harry Potter, be brave, be strong and defeat the evil that lingers in the world!
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1 comment:
So sad, and what is even sadder to me is not only that the teacher didn't help - its that the little First grade child had already learned to read the eyes of adults and know if they were going to help. To me that says there were far too many adults not reaching out. My heart breaks for the little girl and my soul is inspired by the woman she became. You have a powerful blog and voice. HUGS!
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