A journal of healing

The sisterhood

little girl

Tonight I took a journey of sorts. I went looking through some of the new readers who have read my blog and have a blog of their own. It breaks my heart to see how many women out there have a story which starts once “upon a time there was a man, boy, cousin, uncle and even father” who crossed a line. One reader pondered if their young pairing bothered the other person as much as it did her. She wondered if he even remembered what happened. That struck a chord in me tonight. A dissonance chord.

I thought about my situation and my past. I remember the last time I spoke face to face with my ex-husband many years ago. We were in the process of dissolving 27 years of marriage. I will never forget the shame I felt. I felt shame… for what? But he had honed his skill to turn the ugly in our marriage to be my entire fault. He even told someone I made him break his hand when he smashed it into a wall. He did not tell them that he missed my head by less than an inch. He justified so much of what he did as either I deserved it or it was a reaction to the issues in his life…. In other words, not his fault. I am sure if questioned today, he would have no regrets and no memory.

I remember my father sitting in his bed at the hospital telling me, ME….the victim of something that at that time I had an incomplete memory of, that he had no regrets. No shame or sadness for beating the crap out of me and my sister. No ill thoughts about any of the things he did to me. Because he was so drunk then, did he not remember? Did this exonerate him if he did not remember? It took me 48 years to remember it completely myself. If I really push the issue, can I prove any of it? Does that mean it did not happen?

Or sitting across from my brother as he glibly tells his story of success and after money making success. He looked through me as if I did not exist. Maybe I don’t. If I am not there, can what he did actually ever of happened?

I read what other women thought and spoke of in their words…. Some were full of rage, others were sad. Some were lost and others were finding a healing way. But there was a spark in most that said I will fight on. I will win over this. I will find me, I will feel me.

I will be.

Enough said for tonight.

Namaste, my sisters.


Comments on: "The sisterhood" (2)

  1. A man’s responsibility is to protect and provide for those around him, especially those weaker than he. At least that’s what my father taught me. Unfortunately too few of our fellow men were taught the same. I do not feel women are weak – or innocent for that matter. But abuse is always wrong and a male who abuses a woman or child is no man. Alcohol is no excuse either; abusers are plain wrong. I wish you well in your healing and moving forward, Jane. Peace.


  2. I know it in my heart just not in my head yet. When I write about it I don’t mean to put down anybody else or their experiences. I am so lost. X


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