When a story gets intense…handling it can be a delicate situation, but being honest is SUPER important. I realize everyone has their own perspective. The most important point to be made when recording a personal story is to share your perspective and even share your perspective of how it must have felt for the other people in your story. This allows some depth of understanding to shine through tough stories. I am learning so much with each life changing moment I write on paper! Here is part 2 of how I found my voice.
Normally when I came home from school my parents were at work. I would go next door and pick up my baby brother and then I would come home, get a snack, relax for a little bit and finish up any chores that weren’t finished before I left for school, and then start my homework.
The day I found my voice wasn’t a normal day though. My step mother was home. She had stayed home today and was working at the kitchen table typing labels for something they needed at the store. I can still hear the tapping as the type hit the paper labels. My baby brother was sitting at the table having a snack, and my other siblings were there as well working on homework. I was told to start my homework.
The rule at our house was that homework was to be done at the kitchen table. My problem that day was that EVERYONE was at the table and I had to sort through my Algebra notebook and organize a quarters worth of notes, because they were due the next day. So, I started my homework in my bedroom and had my entire bed covered with papers in different piles to be put in my notebook. Sandy called to me from the kitchen table to come out and get my homework started. I called out back to her that I was organizing my notebook and would be there as soon as I had it finished. This calling back and forth to each other continued with each of us getting more frustrated with each word we said to each other.
Finally, my step mother came back to my room and was yelling at me to do my homework at the table. I pleading my case and informing her I will be happy to do it at the table once I finish organizing the assignment that was all over my bed, explaining to her that there is no room at the table for me to complete the assignment I was working on.
I think she was too angry to listen. I think she only heard that I wasn’t obeying her. She grabbed a hold of my arm … I am not sure if she thought she would simply yank me up or drag me into the kitchen to do my homework. Something inside of me snapped. As I yanked my arm out of hers she leaned forward and as my arm pulled away from hers the back of my hand hit her in the face and knocked off her glasses. It was as if time stood still. I found my voice and let her know that it was ridiculous to expect me to do this type of homework at the table, that I wasn’t a little kid who needed to be monitored on my homework. I always received good grades and that she was just trying to control everything about me. She simply said she was calling my dad.
Needless to say he was furious. My step mother told him I HIT her. I guess that would be true, although unintentionally. I hate to admit how good it felt to finally stand up for myself. I remember my father coming into my room fuming and grabbing a hold of me, not even wanting to hear my side…which was typical.
I remember finally finding my voice and yelling, “You will NEVER lay another hand on me again! You will listen to me. There is more to this story than the version your wife wants you to believe!” I think the words your wife cut through the room like an axe splitting a log for the fire.
He stormed out and left the room. But I did it! For the first time in my life I stood up for myself. I continued to find my voice and decided to write my side of the incident out for my dad. I gave him the note as he left to take my brother to football practice. When he came home he told me I was to be grounded for a week. And that was really the end of it for my father. The fact that I was grounded for only one week spoke volumes to me. My father could understand my side of the story. This didn’t make everyone happy. My stepmother was truly angered and outraged that my punishment was only being grounded for one week.
As I look back on this situation I want to cry. Cry for all of the lost time I spent trying to be the “good” girl. Cry for a malnourished relationship between Sandy and I. Cry, for a long lost relationship with my father. Neither of us seemed to be able to get over the loss of my mom, the family tension, and the mistakes made along the way. None of us were able to climb over the walls that kept us from becoming a close knit family. We all seemed to have our shields up to keep out all of our individual pains. For me those pains were primarily mourning the loss of a life I thought I would have, loss of love, loss of time, and most importantly a loss of myself. This day was the first step towards finding me. It all started with discovering my voice and having the courage to use it.
Moments like these make us who we are. I am grateful to have found my voice. This one moment allowed me to stand up for myself more often. I know I wouldn’t be the same without it.
