Tears

I awoke this morning with this song in my head, and it’s created a tailspin of memories.

 

I don’t know why it was in my head. I haven’t heard it for years. But it was very firmly stuck on a loop in my mind.

I first heard this song when I was about ten, I think. It may not have been this version. I remember falling in love with the lyrics, and feeling like they could have been written about me. I think a small part of the ten-year-old me believed they were.

I learned at a very early age that tears were not acceptable. Actually, there was more than one reason why. My grandfather, firstly. (He always seems to work his way into first place, doesn’t he?) I don’t know exactly when I decided to stop giving him the satisfaction of seeing me cry, or begging him to stop. It was shortly after my sixth birthday. I remember that because Percy, my purple teddy bear, was still brand new, and I got him when I was six. I made a promise to myself to never let the monster see me cry again. I understood how much he got off on it. And so I stopped. I toughened up.

My dad comes second in the story of my lack of tears. He had no time for weakness, probably because it was the thing he hated most about himself. He told me on many occasions that I had to be a good girl and not cause any trouble. When I cried, he would mimic me. God, I hadn’t thought of that in a lot of years. It’s brought a lump to my throat right now. He belittled my fears and sadness by making fun of me. That’s so sad. He also told me that if I cried a lot or made a fuss or did anything vaguely naughty, he would take me to the children’s home and leave me there. I believed him with all of my heart.

I also couldn’t cry because of Mum. I don’t blame her for this. But she was always ill, and I had to be a grown-up five-year old and look after her. I was not allowed to upset her in any way, for fear of making her sicker.

So, I didn’t cry. At least, like this song; not out loud. Actually, I don’t think I really cried on the inside. I stopped feeling everything, except for fear. The world became a terrifying place. Nowhere was safe. Everything was always at stake. I felt on the brink of losing it all.

I saw a counsellor for a little while a few years ago. She told me I was the only patient she’d ever seen who didn’t cry once. Counselling, she said, is a fairly wet business. But I couldn’t cry.

When Dad died in 2007, something shifted. I cried for, like, a year. The slightest memory of him could send me into uncontrollable sobbing. I was an emotional wreck. I stayed really emotional for a few years after he died. I remember watching ‘The Green Mile’ and crying for about two hours after it finished! It was like I was making up for the decades of no tears. It was ugly.

Today, I am married to a wonderful man who I love with all my heart. But he criticised my tears so much that they are once again hidden. I feel them inside, bubbling under the surface. But that’s where they stay. It makes him angry if I express any sadness at random things (like TV shows or songs). I think it’s because he’s afraid of sadness. Anger is a much easier emotion for a man to feel.

Well, this was not the blog post I had planned for today. It’s been rather self-centred. But, it’s helped to write about it, so I guess that’s good, right? I’m sure there are people out there who can relate to this. To you all, I say: cry. If you need to cry, then do it. You’re emotions are yours to do with as you wish, and if that means having a good cry, then do it. Cry out loud!

 

Blogger Appreciation Award

Blogger Award

 

I am excited and honoured to have been nominated for the Blogger Appreciation Award by the hugely talented Didi Oviatt. Before reading any further, I suggest you check out her website and blog. She has written, co-written, and published many books, and she’s conducted some great author interviews, as well. Check her out. You won’t be disappointed.

A Little of Something Positive

This is a tough one. I was brought up in a house that believed, “Self praise is no praise,” and preached it regularly. But, I’m getting better at saying nice things about me. Hey! That’s something positive, isn’t it? But, something a little more substantial. I am a passionate person. Certain causes—like mental health, child abuse, homelessness, and domestic violence—are issues I try to write a lot about in an effort to spread awareness. Also, in an attempt to make people who would otherwise have no idea about the affect they have on a person understand just a little better the long-lasting trauma that remains. I’m proud of my writing on these subjects.

My Nominees (all of whom are utterly fab!)

laissez faire

reneworredo

Short Prose

Uncertaintyweb

Lass X

Lizzy

There are so many more bloggers I could have mentioned, but these are the ones I love to peruse on a daily basis. They are all super talented people with interesting tales to tell. Check them out, guys! They’re worth it!

 

 

 

A Childhood Lost

 

stopdomestic violence

a childhood lost

 

the t u m b l e

d

o

w

n

stone wall

draws me nearer

it’s years since i’ve

dared to stand before

this house

d a n c i n g  leaves perform

a show of  s

w

i

r

l

i

n

g

s h a d o w s

hypnotic silhouettes

teasing me in

one

step

toward

the uncared-for, splintery door

as though reflecting my thoughts

a vast

looming storm cloud

st ea ls

the sunlight from the a i r

leaving only a vestige of a time long

g o n e

i step into the past and

wonder if i should be here

light and darkness mingle

dotting the interior

with sepia sadness

i loved this home

i hated this home

stairs creak under my weight

still i take them

one by o n e

light headed,

trepidatious,

i know i must do this

to regain

control

so i ascend

to the height of my

r

a

e

f

and i’m greeted by

hideous

peek-a-boo shadows

a childhood lost

i glance inside the

dusky remnants of

The Room,

and that is

enough

i turn

i leave

outside

the suffocation ends

my lungs expand

and light once more suppresses

darkness