Memories Captured: Remembering the Joy

In November of last year, 2011, news reports came out that there was a scandal of child sexual abuse at Penn State University.  Shortly after hearing the news, my significant other, M, recovered memories of his own child sexual abuse.  During the same time, I was at a crossroads in my relationship with my mother due to my own issues with childhood sexual abuse.  I severed all ties with her by February of 2012.  M is currently teetering on the fence with his family, exploring how to make their relationships work in light of his memories.

For families that have been torn apart by abuse, the holidays can be a heavy burden and filled with grief.  For M and me, 2012, this year, was the first year we did not have to make excuses to avoid Thanksgiving with family.  No one called to invite us.  On one hand, this was a relief.  I know that my healing cannot be done with my family in my life.  On the other hand, the grief that remains is something I would rather not contend with, for grief is a prize fighter.

During Christmastime 2010, as we were ushering in 2011, not knowing the aftermath of child abuse was going to plague our days at the end of the year and well into the next, we celebrated.  We sang.  We danced.  We loved.

During Christmastime 2010 we made a video. 

Last year, during the Christmas of 2011, we did not create a video.  In fact, I can’t find many pictures from then either.  I could say it was just too difficult with the girls going back and forth, to and from their dads for extended periods of time.  Or, we didn't have them on Christmas Eve or Christmas Day, so what fun would it have been to make a video?  But those would be lies.  Last year, during the Christmas of 2011, we were heavy with grief.  The prize fighter had us in a TKO.  Although we didn't let our emotions keep us from having Christmas, we failed to conjure the spirit to capture the moments of Christmas.

Adult survivors of child abuse lose a lot of time.  Sometimes the good times are viewed through murky goggles of pain, anger, and sadness.  It takes a strange amount of courage to cut through the muck and be present.  Being present can take all of the energy leaving none for picking up the camera to capture the memories.

However, capturing memories is important.  Remembering the joy of the present offsets the pain of the past. 

Two bloggers I know, Galit and Alison, understand the importance of capturing memories.  They provide bloggers an opportunity to share their treasured moments each month in a blogging link up called Memories Captured.  I’m grateful for this.  It is a much needed reminder for me.  I do not want to lose any more time without it being documented. 

And so, to express my gratitude, I’m joining the link up this month.  My submission is our Christmas video from 2010.  It reminds me that we are a joyful bunch.  It gives me hope.  Maybe we’ll even create another this year.

photo credit: Brian Hathcock via photopin cc

Memories Captured: Frodo

After my divorce, I knew I would most likely never have another child.  This thought did not diminish my gratitude for the experiences I had with my then six and eight year old daughters.  But I did grieve babies.  

So, I purchased a dog.

A small baby dog. 

A boy dog. 

And I named him Frodo. 

I knew that he, like Tolkien’s character, would be interested in the outside world. 

Frodo frequently escapes from the confines of his dog life in our fenced back yard.  I send M out into the dangerous parts of our neighborhood to find him, while I sit and worry if his little body is being crushed under a car.

We have the fence rigged now, with bricks from our landscaping—all spaces filled, creating a barrier between Frodo’s safety and the outside world. 

When he is not enjoying the sun outside, he is inside, curled in my lap, or snuggled deep beneath the blankets on one of the girls’ beds.

He is not a real baby. 

He is not a boy. 

However, he is the baby boy I will never have.

Don't judge.

It is scientifically proven that the brain changes after one gives birth to a baby.

My brain certainly changed after my divorce.

Wordless 

Wednesday

Last Season's End Forever in Sight

"Never let the fear of striking out keep you from playing the game."

--A., softball player

Two years ago, my younger daughter, Antonia, came home from school and said, “I want to play softball.”

We aren’t a family of athletes. We dance, sing, read, write, and make art.  I was at a loss.

I said, “OK. Let me check into it.”

She said, “Izzy said it starts tomorrow.”

Her friend Izzy was the inspiration for her desire to play.  And I thank her for it, to this day.

There are many reasons kids benefit from playing team sports—exercise, goal setting, working with a group.  For adolescents, team sports can lead to success later in life:

"A study conducted by the Women's Sports Foundation found that adolescents that were regularly involved in teen sports were less likely to engage in sexual activity until later in life than those who were not in team sports. Also, teens on sport teams were found to be less likely to use drugs than their non-playing counterparts, and were less likely to be involved in abusive relationships. In addition, the students involved in sports had a higher chance of graduating high school and college."

The Rockies and the Orioles, before the G.Y.A.A. Title Game.

Scientific benefits aside, my girls love it!  And I do, too, for there are many “parenting moments” that arise during softball season--opportunities to celebrate their wins, support them in their losses, and point out progress they’ve made after every game.  Also, softball has a way of making great memories.

Last year both Sophia's and Antonia's teams made it to the G.Y.A.A. finals.  Both girls had their first of many experiences grabbing the ball from the air and getting an “out.” And, Antonia had her first of many hits made during game-play.  

 

Sophia could consistently hit during practice but failed to make contact with the ball during any of her games. . . . Until the last play of her final game, the one for the G.Y.A.A. Title:

Bottom of the last inning.  Score tied, 2-2.  Two outs.  Sophia was up at bat.

I was scared for her and upset for her knowing that she so desperately wanted to make contact with the ball during a game just once.  How could it come down to this--her final up at her final game was her final chance? And winning the conference final depended upon her successful hit?

Her coach shouted from first base, “You can do it, Sophia! Stay low. Keep your eye on the ball. You can do it!”

He clapped his hands with encouragement, I stood up, and my stomach jumped to my throat.  Pitch, swing, and CRACK.  She made contact, the ball went sailing between first and second, Sophia took off running, and the second baseman jumped to her left, threw up her arm…OUT!

At the most crucial moment of the title game, she made contact with the ball, and yet, her team lost.  If that isn’t a lesson in the paradox of life, I don’t know what is.

Antonia's season was also a success.  In addition to accomplishing her athletic goals, I watched her come out of her shell.  A girl once slow to say, “Hello,” to anyone outside of her family or close-knit group of friends now has no problem lifting her hand to wave, and saying, “Hello,” as she enters a room full of new people.  

 

Softball sign-ups are today.  Like last year, I am certain I will be astonished as I watch Sophia and Antonia grow physically, mentally, and emotionally stronger.  And I am certain to be grateful for memories captured—a testament to their journey.

Linking up with Galit and Alison for April's Memories Captured