Alcoholism and domestic abuse are epidemics in this country (the U.S.). And I’m taking it personally.
Both are affecting my family. For how many generations, I’m not sure. This week I am learning that there is an imminent situation that has been presenting itself for three decades.
I had no idea.
It’s too close to home. It’s scary. And it’s real, in real time. She’s taking the necessary steps. Not knowing for sure what steps he will take in response. How will he react when he is served the papers? Will the papers of protection truly provide what is sought after? Or further provoke the aggressor? It’s hard being so far away. I feel helpless.
My early training tells me, “Be quiet. You can’t share this with the world.” My relearning demands that I do just that.
It’s time to speak out. Time to yell. To scream! Shake things up. There are too many women living in fear of men. Too much violence. Often times the bruises are not visible. The scars are on the inside.
My fear is turning to anger as well. Not the kind of anger that would signal me to hurt someone, to abuse another, but the kind of anger that gives me the signal to take action. Action leading to change.
This comes through education, empowerment, and healing. I have taken the first steps. My own steps leading towards that very change.
I can continue by helping in my own community, knowing those in her community are doing their part. I need to make sure I don’t retreat to my old fear based place of functioning, even though this is very scary stuff. Stop the tape that warns, “Careful, you’ll make him angry.”
Instead I will strengthen my practice. Be aware of the thinking, “This isn’t supposed to be my life.” And remember the acceptance of what is. No matter how damn unpleasant that what is.
This approach doesn’t lead to complacency, rather to a place of clarity, informing me how to take the next step. I will keep walking forward. Speaking the truth.
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