i read an article today about an article about an 11-year-old girl in Texas being gang-raped by between 18 and 28 men. (if you can call them men. they sound more like animals to me.)
last night, i told my story to a group of loving, supportive women. i talked about being kept separate from my Puerto Rican heritage for most of my life, and have been lit afire with the new task of uncovering my ancestry.
my best friend is working on her graduate research project, and asked me to fill out a questionnaire about many aspects of my transition from high school to college. more than once i teared up, thinking about the horrible things i've experienced.
in short, the past is being dredged, and the muck is rising. it's good. i need this to happen...in our society, it it preferred that we function and live in the future as opposed to honoring our past and feeling our present. all of those horrible things are a gift that i must unwrap. now that i am medically and more emotionally stable (knock on wood!), it is time to go deep. i'm terrified, and exhilarated. excuse me while i fight the urge to vomit, take swigs of rum right out of the bottle, or go on a 4-mile run with a hamstring injury.
numb is such a pleasant place to take a vacation...and then, when i get back, the muck i left behind has risen from elbow level to eyeball level.
so, here i go. i know MY story. every time i tell it, it gets a little clearer. little details surface, things i had forgotten because my brain was so fuzzy from low glucose levels. and they matter. the images i can recall from when i was 6--my mother getting angry at me for asking what her tampons were used for--they matter. why did i reject one of my first Christmas gifts--a baby doll? why did i express a desire to have been born a boy in elementary school? they're pieces from my puzzle...and not just my puzzle, but the puzzle with pieces belonging to my mother, my father, their parents and their parents' parents.
maybe if everyone went back as far, striving for a stark naked understanding, we, as a human family, might find it less desirable to rob, rape and kill each other.
my dad's brother is diagnosed schizophrenic. in the throes of mania once, he threatened my grandmother--his mom--with a gun, saying he was going to kill her. why? where did those delusions come from, and how did the energy from that incident reverberate through the Tormos clan, influencing my dad and his sister, his other brother, their children? why did i date--and later file a restraining order--against a schizophrenic/manic depressive named Scott Jaffe?
my mom has (had?) a cousin who never was institutionalized (to my knowledge), but never ventured out of the house after having some kind of "nervous breakdown." what caused this? how did her family--my relatives--react? how did this influence my mother's reaction to my somber, quietness as a young girl...and later my depression, my suicide attempts, my institutionalization...which influenced my recovery...which influences how I perceive my own worth?
i think these next two year are going to unearth some terrible and wonderful things. i'm ready to understand--truly--where i came from, who i am, and where i'm going.
last night, i told my story to a group of loving, supportive women. i talked about being kept separate from my Puerto Rican heritage for most of my life, and have been lit afire with the new task of uncovering my ancestry.
my best friend is working on her graduate research project, and asked me to fill out a questionnaire about many aspects of my transition from high school to college. more than once i teared up, thinking about the horrible things i've experienced.
in short, the past is being dredged, and the muck is rising. it's good. i need this to happen...in our society, it it preferred that we function and live in the future as opposed to honoring our past and feeling our present. all of those horrible things are a gift that i must unwrap. now that i am medically and more emotionally stable (knock on wood!), it is time to go deep. i'm terrified, and exhilarated. excuse me while i fight the urge to vomit, take swigs of rum right out of the bottle, or go on a 4-mile run with a hamstring injury.
numb is such a pleasant place to take a vacation...and then, when i get back, the muck i left behind has risen from elbow level to eyeball level.
so, here i go. i know MY story. every time i tell it, it gets a little clearer. little details surface, things i had forgotten because my brain was so fuzzy from low glucose levels. and they matter. the images i can recall from when i was 6--my mother getting angry at me for asking what her tampons were used for--they matter. why did i reject one of my first Christmas gifts--a baby doll? why did i express a desire to have been born a boy in elementary school? they're pieces from my puzzle...and not just my puzzle, but the puzzle with pieces belonging to my mother, my father, their parents and their parents' parents.
maybe if everyone went back as far, striving for a stark naked understanding, we, as a human family, might find it less desirable to rob, rape and kill each other.
my dad's brother is diagnosed schizophrenic. in the throes of mania once, he threatened my grandmother--his mom--with a gun, saying he was going to kill her. why? where did those delusions come from, and how did the energy from that incident reverberate through the Tormos clan, influencing my dad and his sister, his other brother, their children? why did i date--and later file a restraining order--against a schizophrenic/manic depressive named Scott Jaffe?
my mom has (had?) a cousin who never was institutionalized (to my knowledge), but never ventured out of the house after having some kind of "nervous breakdown." what caused this? how did her family--my relatives--react? how did this influence my mother's reaction to my somber, quietness as a young girl...and later my depression, my suicide attempts, my institutionalization...which influenced my recovery...which influences how I perceive my own worth?
i think these next two year are going to unearth some terrible and wonderful things. i'm ready to understand--truly--where i came from, who i am, and where i'm going.
