TheBanyanTree: Stories

[Jim Miller]

Monique,

You are correct in that this is only a piece of you. I think you might be
surprised what people will tell someone who simply listens and only speaks
to ask probing questions. They will speak openly to a stranger who actively
listens with no judgement. Trust can be built quickly, but we all need to
be face to face to truly establish it without reservation.

Everyone has their unique story. What we do and what happens to us are all
pieces, but not our story. Sometimes I think it takes another person to
find our core story. This I know; each of us has one or more experiences,
that are exclusive to ME/YOU. We guard these because they are so personal
and often traumatic. These experience are so personal that we believe that
no one else could understand or care.

I'm going to share with the Tree a piece of my life that affects my story.
 This is not my whole story, but it has profoundly changed me; how I view
others, AND how I view me..

In April 2011, our daughter-in-law was arrested, jailed and convicted of
felony child abuse. Our granddaughters, one 11 and one 14 came to live with
us. Both are special needs children and came into our house with full blown
PTSD. The schools and support services were incredible. Until just
recently, they were our responsibility 24/7 except for the few brief hours
at school. Even those were frequently interrupted by problem calls. The
girls couldn't be left alone, even after the PTSD was managed. Because the
court will not permit unsupervised contact for 5 years, our son has stepped
up to his responsibilities and the girls are back home. They love their
father and he is wonderful with them. I worry about his strength to keep it
up, and still support his family.

I was the most difficult two and a half years I have experienced in my
life. I've learned so much about mental disorders and understand the
lifetime imbalance that brought our daughter-in-law to strangle her oldest
child until the child fought back. As we have observed her progress through
therapy, we recognize that she simply will never recover to normal, yet she
is learning to cope, and the girls are learning to be empowered. (The
youngest had been two years in martial arts training.)

Even though I wanted the woman jailed forever. (there were also concerns
about suicide, and I shamefully thought that might be an acceptable
solution.) I have learned empathy. I have learned that some things can not
be changed, therefore we must take the lead and change what we can. I am
still the same person I was with all the strengths and weaknesses, yet I am
not that person I was nearly three years ago. My core being took a hard
turn because of circumstances. BUT, most people will never know this about
me.

Jim


On Mon, Dec 9, 2013 at 10:48 AM, Monique Colver <monique.colver at gmail.com>wrote:

> If I ask you for your story, will you tell me? Or will you look at me as if
> I'd lost my mind, because who does that?
>
> If I tell you my story, will you accept it for what it is, or will you feel
> pity? I can see pity, whether you say it out loud or keep it inside. You
> can't hide it.
>
> If I tell you that mostly I don't know why I'm living, will you back away
> and go look for more pleasant stories?
>
> We don't tell our stories because we don't trust that the person we're
> telling them to will not only keep our stories safe, but will not use them
> for their own purposes. We don't trust that you'll look at us differently,
> if you really knew.
>
> We tell as much as we can bear, and then we pull back, because there's a
> chance we may tell too much, and we don't want to tell anyone else parts of
> our story because if we do, it might be true, and then we can't ignore it
> any longer. Best to let sleeping dogs lie and not disturb the dark things.
>
> Some don't have darkness, they don't have secrets, and they're happy to
> tell all they know. But is it? How can we know? What if they don't know
> their own story, and so what we hear isn't the story at all, but what
> they've told themselves is the story?
>
> We can never really know what the story is. A simple recitation of the
> facts isn't a story, it's not the core, it's not what makes us who we are.
> The date I was born and the circumstances of my birth do not tell anyone
> who I am. What can tell you who I really am? Only I know everything about
> me, and I'm abnormal in the oversharing department. Most people are far
> more private, because who can we really trust? Or they don't want anyone to
> know, and they have their own reasons, whatever they are.
>
> I do some online support of people with depression. Not enough to matter,
> but it matters to me. They don't like to tell their stories because when
> they do, people pull back, or tell them what to do to fix it, when it's not
> easily fixed, not like that, not from someone who doesn't know. They don't
> like to tell their stories because of the looks that they get, the looks
> that are supposed to be laden with compassion but instead come across as,
> "you poor fool, you," a sentiment that is not helpful.
>
> People as a general rule want to be connected to other people, but when we
> have to hide how we feel we're not connecting, we're just passing by. We're
> constantly encouraged to be happy, to look at the positive side of things,
> to remember these important life lessons, but people don't work that way.
> People don't dispel long standing depression by only thinking happy
> thoughts.
>
> Here's my story: When I'm alone at night and my husband is out of town, I
> wish there was someone I could call, I wish there was someone who gave a
> crap that I was alone and not liking it, but there isn't. I wish someone
> would come watch a movie with me, or go out for a drink with me, but there
> isn't, not here. Sure, if I lived there, or there, or there, but I don't.
>
> It's not the whole story. It's just part of the story.
>
> What I hear from depressed people is that no one reaches out to them to see
> how they are. Perhaps they've exhausted all their avenues. Perhaps no one
> really cares. I don't know them well enough to know. But I tell them that
> we still have to reach out and make the effort, because if they won't come
> to us, we have to make the effort.
>
> And then I don't because I'm not certain anyone would care, and I'd rather
> not find that out.
>
> But I tell them that anyway because any little bit we can do to reach out
> decreases the possibility that somewhere someone is waiting too.
>
> And sometimes I do, and sometimes it's okay and sometimes it's not.
>
> People are more than stories. Stories are a start, but we're far more than
> the stories that we tell.
>
>
> m
>