Earlier I wrote about the doors of my childhood closet, and finding new perspectives. I'm not the only one--look at the Narnia kids. All kinds of cool stuff behind the coats.
But closets have other connotations as well. Skeletons, for one thing. And whether to come out or stay in, and who should know about it. I have friends still struggling with this one, in our days of continued injustice.
My whole family was in the closet. We lied, we covered up, we told half-truths. And as I peek out through the doors now, I'm amazed at how many people still don't know what's behind the coats.
All of you, my blogfriends, you know. Some were there for it, some knew us back then and are only just now learning, others of you are just getting to know me, and are hearing the whole thing. But other people out there still have no idea, even after the divorce and all these years. I have to say it aloud, sometimes two or three times, for it to really dawn on people who were kept in the dark.
But it's true. It happened. He used his hands, his fists, his anger, his strength. It wasn't just words, as so many believed. There were bruises, blood, slams against the wall. Choking. One time, he threw an iron skillet. That kitchen floor still bears the scar. I saw some of it, heard it all.
It's time for the secret-keeping to be finished. It just shames all of us.
2 comments:
Even the families I've always thought were perfect had secrets to hide. I'm sorry you've experienced this kind of abuse, but I hope that in writing/talking about it, you'll find forgiveness and closure.
It takes an enormous amount of energy to keep a closet door closed. Hoping you are finding fresh air and sunshine and amazing new freedom and energy as you prop the family closet door open.
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