Your words are so true. My father's father committed suicide when my dad was only 9. It was during the depression, they lived in a small southern town, he had been accused of fraud. I never knew about this until after my father died and my brother and I discovered it in the headlines of the local paper (from 1933) online. My father lived his whole life with secrets/shame. He feared the world and craved safety, for himself and for us, more than anything else. It breaks my heart.
It took a long time, I knew my mother was difficult, but I know now, I was raised by a covert narcissist, and unfortunately a Dad who was tested late in life by my stepmother's insistence, and diagnosed as being on the spectrum. My growing up was slowed down, I was immature and anxiously unaware for too long which happens I guess when you don't have a guiding hand to help you navigate through childhood. Shaming, even over little things, seems to come naturally from those who have a prescribed vision of exactly how their children should orbit around their challenging personalities; but of course, they AREN'T the ones with the behavioral problem, it's always the kid. I admire so much that you write about how your life is impacted by a difficult parent, it takes courage to wade through needless shame. I'm so sorry your health has taken a hit from what you've unfairly endured, but so grateful your books, your art, have carried you through it all.
That O’Donohue quote! Powerful, I’ve saved it for reminding. Your words on the unpredictability of what another person will (or will not) feel shame over were insightful. We really can’t know.
I’ve been closely following the trail of writing and interviews you’ve done around whether “to tell —- or not.”
To be “the Truth Teller” in a family does exact a price.
Twenty five years ago I wrote a book, encouraged by published writer friends, a small press publisher and others to “put it out there,” with their help.
I got scared. There were “secrets” in that book. Uncomfortable truths. Family members got wind of it. I was worried about my kids, my husband suffering because of it.
So I shoved the manuscript into a cardboard box and allowed my fears (some founded at that time, some not) to win.
I decided a few months ago that I’m going to write the story. With the passage of years, the death of several key people, and my change of heart, I need “to tell.”
I can’t wait to read it. You are a warrior for the storyteller in all of us!
your words always move me.....you're so damn fluid, and honest and clear, and open. i usually cry....then nap! you live big, fall hard, and always have the strength, and the words, to share it all.
what can i say....thank you, stay health(ier), come for dinner...m.
Your writing is so timely as I wrote about the shame I felt years ago to another this morning. The shame I felt was a gut wrenching, but I grew so much from it upon reflection. Here's my story.I was probably around 25 years old and purchased my first house...an 800 sq. ft cabin on Whidbey Island, WA. My father came to spend the Summer with me from upstate NY. He painted my house pink with yellow trim (good guy) and did a lot of small repairs. I have no idea what I was fighting with him over as he sat in my kitchen. But he put his hands over his face for a moment and said this to me. "I am old, you are young, you need to have more patience with me." I was immediately shamed and very sorry. I grew a lot in that moment and we never had another spat between us. It is still painful to think about 40 years later but it was an important side road to understanding what's always important. Kindness. PS. On a side note I made your spicy marinated olives the other day! I served them on top of so warmed butternut squash with a little Cambozola cheese. Oh my...turned into my dinner!
Your writing is not only powerful but also relatable. There are things I write and then I don't hit publish. I wonder about those still here how they would react and of course, my own children that I do not want to be burdened with any of it.
Truth can be hard to speak and hard for others to hear and/or understand. Some of us are brave enough to do it anyway. No advice - only compassion. Also, you are heard and seen and understood by so many of us who have lived/survived similar tough paths or who are currently going through it. We are your tribe. Can't wait to read your new book.
I resonant so much with what you are saying about shame. Especially, that writing about shame induces shame. Struggling with this at the moment. Thank you for your insightful words.
Wow! You put into words exactly what happens even when we just *talk* about remembered childhoods around an intergenerational dinner table. I have had my parents explode at some stories that are simply part of my memories. One story in particular was my memory of saving up half the money for a new bike. I consider that formative to my character in learning to work for things I want, and they took it as an insult that I didn’t think they provided enough and were quite offended. Even though we all agreed on the facts of the memory.
Thank you for sharing both your wisdom and your pain. This is a succinct challenge to memoirists.
The phrase medical and social work staff used about my elder with dementia was ‘presents very well’. What a ride that was, in ways exquisitely specific: you have all my empathy.
Your words are so true. My father's father committed suicide when my dad was only 9. It was during the depression, they lived in a small southern town, he had been accused of fraud. I never knew about this until after my father died and my brother and I discovered it in the headlines of the local paper (from 1933) online. My father lived his whole life with secrets/shame. He feared the world and craved safety, for himself and for us, more than anything else. It breaks my heart.
It took a long time, I knew my mother was difficult, but I know now, I was raised by a covert narcissist, and unfortunately a Dad who was tested late in life by my stepmother's insistence, and diagnosed as being on the spectrum. My growing up was slowed down, I was immature and anxiously unaware for too long which happens I guess when you don't have a guiding hand to help you navigate through childhood. Shaming, even over little things, seems to come naturally from those who have a prescribed vision of exactly how their children should orbit around their challenging personalities; but of course, they AREN'T the ones with the behavioral problem, it's always the kid. I admire so much that you write about how your life is impacted by a difficult parent, it takes courage to wade through needless shame. I'm so sorry your health has taken a hit from what you've unfairly endured, but so grateful your books, your art, have carried you through it all.
That O’Donohue quote! Powerful, I’ve saved it for reminding. Your words on the unpredictability of what another person will (or will not) feel shame over were insightful. We really can’t know.
Thank you for writing “Permission.”
I’ve been closely following the trail of writing and interviews you’ve done around whether “to tell —- or not.”
To be “the Truth Teller” in a family does exact a price.
Twenty five years ago I wrote a book, encouraged by published writer friends, a small press publisher and others to “put it out there,” with their help.
I got scared. There were “secrets” in that book. Uncomfortable truths. Family members got wind of it. I was worried about my kids, my husband suffering because of it.
So I shoved the manuscript into a cardboard box and allowed my fears (some founded at that time, some not) to win.
I decided a few months ago that I’m going to write the story. With the passage of years, the death of several key people, and my change of heart, I need “to tell.”
I can’t wait to read it. You are a warrior for the storyteller in all of us!
Thank you -- Good luck.
your words always move me.....you're so damn fluid, and honest and clear, and open. i usually cry....then nap! you live big, fall hard, and always have the strength, and the words, to share it all.
what can i say....thank you, stay health(ier), come for dinner...m.
I had a great teacher. 🙏🏻❤️🙏🏻
Your writing is so timely as I wrote about the shame I felt years ago to another this morning. The shame I felt was a gut wrenching, but I grew so much from it upon reflection. Here's my story.I was probably around 25 years old and purchased my first house...an 800 sq. ft cabin on Whidbey Island, WA. My father came to spend the Summer with me from upstate NY. He painted my house pink with yellow trim (good guy) and did a lot of small repairs. I have no idea what I was fighting with him over as he sat in my kitchen. But he put his hands over his face for a moment and said this to me. "I am old, you are young, you need to have more patience with me." I was immediately shamed and very sorry. I grew a lot in that moment and we never had another spat between us. It is still painful to think about 40 years later but it was an important side road to understanding what's always important. Kindness. PS. On a side note I made your spicy marinated olives the other day! I served them on top of so warmed butternut squash with a little Cambozola cheese. Oh my...turned into my dinner!
I just love your writing & can’t wait to read Permission.
Thank you -
Your writing is not only powerful but also relatable. There are things I write and then I don't hit publish. I wonder about those still here how they would react and of course, my own children that I do not want to be burdened with any of it.
Truth can be hard to speak and hard for others to hear and/or understand. Some of us are brave enough to do it anyway. No advice - only compassion. Also, you are heard and seen and understood by so many of us who have lived/survived similar tough paths or who are currently going through it. We are your tribe. Can't wait to read your new book.
I believe that our most important stories to share are things that shaped us that are not traumatic or salacious. This is a great read
I resonant so much with what you are saying about shame. Especially, that writing about shame induces shame. Struggling with this at the moment. Thank you for your insightful words.
I admire your courage and am grateful for you writing it all anyway. I can’t wait to read Permissions.
Wow! You put into words exactly what happens even when we just *talk* about remembered childhoods around an intergenerational dinner table. I have had my parents explode at some stories that are simply part of my memories. One story in particular was my memory of saving up half the money for a new bike. I consider that formative to my character in learning to work for things I want, and they took it as an insult that I didn’t think they provided enough and were quite offended. Even though we all agreed on the facts of the memory.
Thank you for sharing both your wisdom and your pain. This is a succinct challenge to memoirists.
The phrase medical and social work staff used about my elder with dementia was ‘presents very well’. What a ride that was, in ways exquisitely specific: you have all my empathy.
This lands with such clarity- thank you, I know I’ll come back to this piece and I can’t wait to read Permission.
Love this... and there's no shame in that.