The Seeds of Anger
The man I grew up calling dad punched holes in things. The walls of our house. The windshield of our car. Other things that weren't readily fixed with epoxy and a paintbrush.
Early on I identified two safe places: my grandparent's house and the classroom. My teachers became my confidantes and mentors. I got to school as early as possible - and stayed later than other kids. I developed the ability to juggle a full schedule of commitments. If it kept me out of the house, I did it. I excelled in nearly every subject.
The man I grew up calling dad wasn't my biological father. I accidentally discovered that truth a few months before my mom died. It was on a to do list that included groceries mom needed, in her handwriting. The list was written on a sheet of paper shaped like a hen. Mom needed milk, bread and "Gwen's adoption papers."
When I asked my grandmother what it meant she told me to find mom. Mom took me into the bathroom and put down the toilet lid. She sat on it and then sat me down on the floor in front of her. I'm adopted? I asked. It was never the right time to tell you, she said. When the plan to tell me came up something else inevitably took precedence. For a few terrifying minutes there I thought mom wasn't my mom.
It was a relief of sorts to find out. But I still pulled back the shower curtain every time I took a shower. I lived in fear he was out on my grandparent's lawn with a shotgun. I continued to have recurring nightmares about firing squads lining up my family and killing everyone in it. In the dream I can see the scene play out. Even though I'm screaming, silence is all that comes out. It doesn't take a Psychology degree to evaluate that one. I felt silenced and isolated.
When I reflect on it now from a chair in the sky 20,000 feet above the greater Atlanta area, I extend compassion toward myself. To the me of then, the me of now. Who am I right now as I tell this story? It's just a story. It's in the past.
Or it was. Until tonight at the airport. I saw two little kids, probably ages five and two, getting backhanded, yanked and thrown by the adults with them. Parents or friends of the family, who knows. If I had to guess, I'd guess parents. And it was like a moment out of Chuck. (Chuck gets a Matrix-like ticket to access some part of a computer that teaches him karate in an instant. If that were my superpower, I would have been tempted to use it tonight.) Childhood memories shot up from somewhere at the base of my spine. Memories of hair pulling, titty twisting and Army boot kickings.
My gut instinct wasn't to feel pity for the kids. Nor was it to be angry at the parents. It was an immediate connection with the situation. I have been there, I thought, extending kindness toward the kids and adults. I thought: if he's doing that in public, what he does in private may be worse.
I sat with it. I listened to the kids crying and moved to another location to finish a phone call and my tea latte. I practiced the breathing and meditations I've learned. I looked at it, at my visceral response to it. But I couldn't shake it. I wanted to leave the cafe and wheel my carry on down to the gate, ignoring it.
Mom, after moving in with her parents (my grandparents, who raised me after her death) expressed remorse at not having gotten out of the situation sooner. She really did wait until the last minute. She was a few months shy of her death and made the hard decision to get out. I'm not sure why so many people ignored what was happening. Family members have expressed they wish they hadn't ignored it.
As for the airport. Here's what I did. I mentioned on Twitter what I'd witnessed. That I wasn't sure how to proceed. I thought that one of my 13,000+ followers might have some thoughts on the best response. The one that compelled me to talk with the airport authorities was from Julie. She asked, "what does your gut say?" And I knew that answer. It said, "No, I don't know the specifics of the situation, but those kids may need an advocate and right now they don't have one. You're an adult - use your voice." For the first time in my adult life, I reported a violent situation.
Beyond the offhand remarks, some of the responses from Twitter reflect that moment of indecision that accompanies "meddling" in someone else's affairs. Right, there's no short code or one-button answer to it.
How challenging it can be to confront the violence within our own homes and neighborhoods. Within ourselves.
The man I grew up calling dad punched holes in things. We all have that seed of violence within us. No button on any computer will push that seed away.
Tonight at the airport I was reminded how my own seeds of violence sprouted. They grew in the detritus of anger in my childhood household. In response to it, my behavior often resembled that of a caged animal. That's not a healthy way to express our anger. When I see that flash of anger now I work with it. Extending compassion to myself and all beings. I use it as a chance to extend kindness in all directions.
Knowing we're all doing our best. And being unafraid to use my voice to shine a light into the darkness.
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Resources (many of these sites contain warnings/easy ways to exit if it's emotional):
Wednesday, January 20, 2010
Reader Comments (49)
wow. Thanks for sharing your heart so openly and candidly. Being a mom of 5, thank you for using your voice to take up for kids who may not have one. I'd venture to say, you took back some of your own power, and reclaimed more of your voice, by standing up for those kids! I'm a firm believer in shining the biggest, brightest flashlight into dark areas! The more light, the less dark!! You go girl!
Thank you, Gwen, for your courage and honesty. Angela
Amazing post. One of the best I've EVER read, ever. I saw your tweet and had wanted to reply something along the lines of "If I were there I'd go Puerto Rican on their asses." My instinct is to intercede, to be the one to tell someone doing wrong that it's not ok (because if no one ever does, they'll always think it's ok being my rationale). I never realised where that instinctual feeling came from until now. It brings me to tears to realise it and to realise that I don't have to allow that seed of anger to sprout. I know it may take time to evolve into reacting in a way similar to how you did but I want to get there, I want to work toward that. It feels like if I do, if more people do, there will be some bigger shift away from anger in the general consciousness. Whoa. Thank you as always xoxo
I do feel for the children and I understand you're confusion about what to do. I've spent a lot of volunteer time in this field, and here's what I know: kids who witness violence grow up to be violent. It's what they are taught to be acceptable. You did the right thing, and now you'll know what to do the next time too. We can't sit by. These are children.
I too grew up in a volatile household. And I've acted as an advocate in a public place for a child I didn't know who was being abused by her grandmother. That was one of the scariest things I've ever done - walking up to that person and asking if they needed a break from the situation - if I could help by holding the child - knowing that I would have appreciated the same kindness as a child. That woman accepted my help - even though I know that was hard for her - I did fell a bit better about her when she recognized that her actions might be out of line and rather than lashing out at me, she accepted my offer.
Abuse and it's aftermath are a minefield. It sounds like you're managing your responses beautifully and to the best of your ability. Some seeds just shouldn't flourish.
Well done. This really spoke to me. Thanks.
I think it's wise that you contacted the authorities. It's important to speak up in these situations. I still have regret about not speaking up about some violence I'd witnessed as a kid. I was so young and my immediate reaction was to throw-up and run home.
These days I do my best to break out of that passive mode.
Thanks for sharing this story.
Honesty.... right now that's all I can think of and how I wish I was brave enough as you are to be more honest, even with myself.
Thank you for sharing Gwen.
You should be proud of yourself for finding the strength to face your inner demon and beat it by helping others who couldn't help themselves.
Thank you for writing about it with such depth and unrestrained honesty. I was moved by what you wrote.
Thank you for your candidness. This piece just opened up something within me, an understanding that I did not have before about my own childhood, and, judging by my tears, boy did it ever need opening.
You made a difficult call in that airport, but I am glad that you did. A blind can allow so much hurt.
Wow... although I haven't experienced anything like that, I can totally relate to how you feel seeing kids being abused violently. I've often wondering about the whole "meddling" thing and can really feel for you and the situation you were in. Thank you for sharing so openly, I am sure it was painful to talk about like that.
LoveFeast Table:
I think you're totally correct about Gwen regaining some of her power and voice around this issue by reporting it, and by being able to talk about it on a forum such as this. I've noticed over the past two years of knowing and falling in love with Gwen that when she's ready to blog about something, she's ready to move on and past it. I'm proud of her, and her willingness to share the difficulties she has been through. Hopefully others who have experienced them can find some release in understanding that they are not alone, that they are not isolated, that their voices can be heard.
Keep shining your lights in the darkness.
Abuse comes in many forms. I was 5 when I was adopted and my step father's form of abuse was of the mental form, driven by jealousy. To this day I carry the scars and can't get rid of the memories. At 91, he has survived my mother and depends on me for family support. I do it out of compassion, not out of love. One phrase or comment will reverse Chuck my mind (love the reference to Chuck) and I'll flash on the past. I've learned to deal with it and am convinced this is why I'm the father of 3 boys. A life lesson to be learned.
I went back and read your original tweet. Going with your gut was the right answer.
So tricky to know what to do in that situation. It's also interesting how our angels show up, sometimes looking like demons.
Here's to healing the past.
Wow. Very , very powerful stuff. This one is likely to be sitting with me for awhile.
Thank you.
Good for you! I hope the dreams stop now... maybe take it one step further and become an advocate for abused children. You could do amazing things with the power of our audience and you already are. Big hugs ad very proud of you!
so touching and inspiring. that took a lot of strength.
I read your post and it was very touching. I have just noticed in myself some troubling things and I believe everything happens for a reason. I know that I read your post because I needed to look into my own actions.
I’m a young, 23 year old mother with a daughter who is 1 ½ years old and a son who is only 3 months old. I’m going through a divorce right now and things can get very stressful and trying at times. I have found that I have less patience with my daughter when I’m having a stressful moment with my ex. I do my very best to not let the situation that my children cannot help, let it affect my parenting but sometimes I find myself being very short with them.
Kids can have days where they are just into everything and doing one thing after another. My daughter was having one of those days, yesterday and today. After swatting her bottom for the 5th time, I got very upset with myself. I wasn’t hurting her, but I know it inflicted fear in her. I grew up fearing my father and I had a flashback of how I used to feel when he would go on a rampage and I realized I was making my own daughter feel that same exact way. I was immediately disgusted with myself. Not even an hour later I read your post. It touched me.
My divorce, my situation, my mistakes, they are not my children’s fault. Thank you so much for posting that article. I needed to read that. You are a very inspiring and motivating woman and I appreciate your story.
This was truly touching. Thank you for being so open.
I am really happy that you did something for those kids.
I had an experience in an airport once where there was a girl that was standing in the middle of an aisle, sort of staring off into space.
I gently inched around her.
"What have I told you about being in the way?" Her mom grabbed her by the elbow and snapped her out of the way.
She sounded mean. The kid acted a little hurt, a little scared, and somewhat resigned. This was no new experience.
The mother smiled at me. She expected me to smile back.
I said, "Your kids are way more important than a stranger."
We all reach the end of our rope with our kids. You just can't hang out there.
Gwen- You give strength and voice to those who do not have the strength/wisdom to speak out for themselves. The world is a better place because you are here speaking out loud for all to hear.
I have been a similar situation in that I stood in the grocery store and did not know what to do. I saw this same couple again with that 2 year old kid and in THAT moment they behaved properly. Next time, I will stand up and give her a voice. thank you for this
I started to comment, but then decided an email made more sense, so you have something from me there. Thanks for sharing this, and for sticking up for those kids.
Someone once did the kind of thing for me that you did for these kids at the airport. My own family never said a word and never made any offer to help, but this woman I knew from church did. She took me aside one day and said, 'I've seen how your stepdad treats you in public and can only imagine what happens at home. If you ever need a place to stay, for any amount of time, you're welcome to stay with us.' A few months later, things got out of control and I ended up taking her up on her offer, and I finished high school living with her family. I will never forget what her offer meant to me, and I am so grateful for "meddling" people who put their own comfort at risk to help.
Thank you for such a beautiful and moving post, Gwen.
Although our situations were very different, I experience the same gut-wrenching feeling and flashbacks when I see kids being verbally or physically abused in public. I've only ever had the courage to confront one couple (coincidentally, also at an airport) after I had to stand in a queue hearing the kid's wails and their horrible comments for what seemed like forever. The fact that you reported this violence is so important and fantastic: not only does it send a much-needed message to the world that this is unacceptable, but it empowers those who suffered abuse themselves and promotes change for a better future.
Your honesty and authenticity is very special :)