Crisis Class

 

This semester, I am taking an Individual and Family Crisis Class.  I am a little shocked at how overwhelmed some of the students are with the discussions.  For me and the house that I grew up in, Crisis was something that happened on a daily basis, so when some are so shocked by things, I am not.   Sometimes, I forget that not everyone lived in a house like mine. Growing up, that was all that I knew, of course, but there was no other way for me.  I think it was when I was a nanny that I finally realized that not every house was like the one I had grown up in.  I can remember being in my room, and the dad came and started vacuuming my room.  My mouth was wide open; I was shocked.  I had never seen a man vacuum before. And I was in my early 20's.  It's more of a continuum, I think; little by little, I knew that houses were not all like mine, but when that is all you know, it's hard to imagine things differently. 

Taking a class like this is a reminder of just how crazy things were for me growing up. With that comes the realization of just how far I have come.  Growing up in a household where there was crisis day in and day out, I literally learned to take care of the things that needed attention and just keep moving.  There is also this grief because of the things that people should have done for my family growing up, and everyone looked the other way. I could give pages and pages of examples.  

There are a few that come to mind that literally take my breath away.  First and foremost, when dealing with a crisis, you want to make sure that the person is safe and their needs are met.  But for me, after I told that I was gang raped, no one made sure that I was safe no one tended to my basic physical needs. Mentally, I was not ok; physically, I was not ok.   I don't feel like I mattered at all.  Everything was all about the adult's reactions and the chaos around me.  It was everyone saving their own ass, and I was left to figure things out.  There was no attention to what I needed at all.  I think of that counselor who sat there with all of her turquoise jewelry, her legs crossed in a knot.  She sat there letting my father scream, berate, and blame me for the entire session, then said maybe we should do this separately. Where was the care and concern in making sure that I was okay?  So much of what I am learning is things that I never received.  Things that should have happened. Ways that a girl who had been gang raped should be cared for, I never got those things. Things happen. You clean up and keep going.  You pretend that you are fine because the things that happen to you are things that happen to pretty popular girls. The things that happened don't happen to girls like you.  You just want attention; you are just lying. 

I was failed in every possible way. I know it was a long time ago, and things have changed. Laws have been created, and there is greater awareness. That doesn't help that 13-year-old girl that I was, who needed to be cared for. There is still this longing to have the things that I didn't get.  That is crazy to be almost 50; I would give almost anything to go back and be able to give her all the care and attention that she needed.  I guess that is why I always say I am going to become the care that I never got. 

I heart your heart.