Dear Sister

Dear Sister, 

Our mom had a piano that she’d go to, to sit and play notes to an open page of scripture. I don't think she'd ever had a piano growing up, and that piano (well keyboard) was the first piano we'd ever had at home. When sitting at that piano, one would face the wall when you played, looking at that, or a copy of a painting we had on the wall. 

It was her place of solace and peace — an activity that calmed her mind. 

The first time I saw her play was at about 12 years of age where I thought to myself, “what happened to her?”

Because there is just no other explanation for a mother who can’t connect with her kids, other than some unresolved traumatic experience (or ongoing coercive control).

And because of that, I see it as a failure as a woman, to ever condemn another woman, or to fail to jump to action, should she call you as she’s fleeing an event of danger. I’ve been on both ends of it, fleeing myself, and also being the one who was called upon. If it’s a random phone call on a Tuesday — pick up the f*cking phone. Even if a woman is wrong in her actions, you can correct or care for someone without condemnation. 

It’s taken decades, but slowly our mom has been unraveling the torment on her mind and system. Slowly, she’s been able to connect the dots, which always gets more difficult over time. Even with her early onset of evil and manipulation robbing her life, she’s been able to do it. Despite the random outbreaks and incessant criticism I was dealt in my teen years — these a miscommunication on her part — she is the strongest woman I know. Because she’s been carrying a weight that wasn’t hers to carry. She’s been carrying the weight that only Christ was designed to carry. But she allowed God to move her -- and that weight is finally dissolving. It's because she's in a place with a lot of space, and a lot of quiet. 

In my upbringing, as children do, I sought to be like her, spending years in friction thinking I was doing something wrong when things were going well. Thinking I had to carry a weight like she’d been carrying (and this was also doubled down from being a scapegoat to my father). But I also sought to figure out what happened to her, I knew something happened because while her and my relationship has not been perfect, she can love, make mistakes (in the past extremely horrific for me), take accountability for them, and move forward. She can learn from them and adjust her behavior. That is the boundary line — it’s whether or not your mother, friend, partner, father — adjusts to make space for your needs after taking accountability for a mistake or action that negatively impacted you, no matter how big or small. 

But I’m here writing to you so that you know this: your traumatic experiences only determine low self worth if you allow them to dictate your life in a negative way. Your traumatic experiences cannot rob you of your autonomy forever, only if you allow them to. It’s a razor sharp boundary line to uphold: that experience happened to you, therefore, you can and you will overcome the impact of that experience.

I have no doubt in my mind that you can and you will. 

Find your space of solace. Protect your peace. 

-B

For any sister out there.