TheBanyanTree: Stories

[Monique Colver]

You think I would be surprised? I would not be surprised at all -- people
tell me a lot of things. People tell me horrendous stories, but not because
I'm a stranger. I don't know why they tell me.

None of us are the same as we were three years ago. I'm barely the same
person I was three hours ago. I'm sorry you had to go through that, and
especially for your grandchildren. I know so many children going through
similar things right now, and so many who have, and sometimes I think it's
a wonder any of us survive.





*We appreciate your referrals!*

Monique Colver
Colver Business Solutions
www.colverbusinesssolutions.com
monique.colver at gmail.com
(425) 772-6218


On Mon, Dec 9, 2013 at 3:56 PM, Jim Miller <jim at maze.cc> wrote:

> 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
> >
>