My Story Starts with Shame

Shame was my oldest companion. For as long as I can remember, every moment, every memory was laced with shame. Even now, Shame tries to tag along with me, but I’m really not inclined to invite her anymore. I’ve had enough of her company.

Looking back, I can see how all this shame came about, you know what they say, hindsight is 20/20. But growing up under it, in the moment, feels inescapable. And, it makes writing this part of the story difficult because I don’t want to accuse or blame anyone, namely my parents; I believe they did the best they could with what they had at the time. But sometimes…. sometimes I wish they’d done better. And yet, I am who I am today because of my path and the experiences that helped shape me along the way.

Looking at my dad through a conventional lense, I think it’d be pretty safe to say that there were probably some mental health issues that ran in the family. Perhaps some personal or familial traumas that were never processed or talked about. He would often accuse me and my sister of things that just made no sense to our young minds. I remember one time when my sister was about 3 or 4, (I would have been about 5) she drew a caterpillar and his initial reaction was that it “looked like something else” like we had any idea what that looked like at that point. Another time my sister and I were playing hide-n-seek in the house. I thought she’d gone to hide in the bathroom so I swung the door open shouting “aha!” only to have my dad there instead accusing me of “trying to see” him. When we’d be sitting with him on his lap or on the couch near him and tried to adjust our seating we were often accused of trying to “accidentally touch him”. None of these thoughts naturally occured to me, it would literally have been the last thing on my mind had I not been constantly reminded of it. While I had no interest or even knowledge of what he was talking about, I knew it made me feel like I was a horrible disgusting person who was inherently corrupt.

When I was old enough to be in school, my dad would often be asking me which boy I liked, or who I had a crush on, while also simultaneously giving me the message that girls should not chase boys or try to see or touch them. I remember one time, I was probably about 7-8 years old, I was happily playing at home and he stopped me to ask about who was my “latest crush”. I was the kind of girl who would “beat up” the boys, or out run them at tag, etc; I was not interested in having crushes on them. “Come on,” he cajoled me, trying to make it a fun game––there’s a good chance he was genuinely trying to connect with me on my level, but my initial claims of not having a single crush or boy interest were not enough for him to let me get back to whatever fun I had been having moments earlier. “Fine, I guess D,” (for privacy sake I’m just going to use his initial because this kid plays a bigger role next year, when I’m 8-9); I just wanted to go play, I gave him a name so I could get out of this game.

To this day, I still hate it when people superimpose their motives and reasons on me. It really irritates me when people, who don’t take the time to actually know or listen to me, act like they know me. As a kid I couldn’t articulate all this I just knew it felt very inauthentic. But, as I was just a kid who didn’t know anything, I must have been wrong and he, who had lived 30 years more than I, had to be right. What did I know? I learned young that I couldn’t trust my knowing, and this affected me for most of my life.

These things are also difficult to write, because I don’t want to make anyone hate my dad; I don’t hate him. His tactics, his ways, his constant guilt trips made my life very difficult, yes; they filled me with shame and taught me to hate and distrust myself for much of my life. I was angry a lot of the time, hard not to be when you believe you are inherently bad and icky. But now that I’ve worked through a lot of my trauma I can see all that for what it is––his own stuff he hadn’t yet worked through, projected onto me, coupled with my soul’s lesson for what it came here to learn. And I can do this.

I Know What I Know

I am guided by what used to be common sense; it’s not so common anymore, but it still makes sense. I don’t need a doctor to tell me when I’m sick, or the news to tell me when there’s an actual pandemic out there––I can feel it and I can see it.

I’ve lived almost 40 years of my life, my mother and grandmother and great grandmother many years collectively before that. I’ve watched them and the wisdom that has carried our species for hundreds, if not thousands, of years. Clean water and fresh air, sunshine and healthy, fresh foods, plenty of exercise, rest and laughter, and good old TLC is what has kept us going and going strong. If the fact that we are here as living proof of that isn’t enough, until 2020, it was common knowledge, backed up by decades of research, that the preceding list is what has always worked best.

When scurvy was an issue, what was the answer? Vitamin C from citrus fruit. When rickets was a problem, and also seasonal affective disorder (SAD), what was the solution? Vitamin D, through both sunshine and supplementation. Babies cared for in orphanages were shown to thrive when they were held and given affection in addition to the basic needs such as food, water and shelter. Research over the years has shown that children learn best through play and socialization, and school curricula were even adapted to account for this. I could go on. But now, suddenly in 2020-21 all the aforementioned findings seem to be moot according to the “new science”.

Do they really want us to believe that we have evolved so much from one year to the next, such to the point that now the opposite of what used to work in the past is what we really need? I wouldn’t even call that evolution, then. If we need to rely on even more crutches and “outside” solutions like masks and vaccines and curfews to keep us safe, I’d say we’ve devolved––that does not sound like a species that is getting smarter and more well adapted to its surroundings, if you ascribe to the theory of evolution.

No, I know what I know. My faith has been tested time and time again, and here is what I know: My God shall supply all my needs according to His riches, not my limited knowledge or experience, but according to the goodness and richness of His supply. I know that we are made in the image of God, little replicas, we are made to imitate and be like the Almighty God. The God who spoke and brought the Universe forth with the sheer power of His word. I know that when I read and listen to His Word, written for me full of promises from Him, my faith grows stronger and drowns out fear. I have learned that whether you want to take the Bible literally or figuratively, it works, it’s that powerful. I know that when I speak to mountains, they move––whether that mountain is called sickness, or lack, or fear or any other name you want to put on it.

I know that my body was made by the Divine Designer and therefore it is not flawed, but perfectly equipped to give and get what it needs to and from its environment. I do not need to inject toxins and extra chemicals and substances into my body in order for it to learn something. My body is a highly intelligent operating system that processes all kinds of information about my environment and surroundings. I know that my body interprets the collective wisdom from the Great Spirit and translates it in a way that is relevant to me, and that when I pay attention to what is needed at the time I will always have everything I need. And, that it comes from within.