That’s what friends are for

WARNING: Contents may trigger memories in those who have suffered similar experience. I apologise in advance.

In all the years I’ve been writing these blogs, I have rarely delved into my personal history. Today I open that door a little. For a period of about ten years throughout my teens, from sometime in 1954 to November 22, 1963, I was physically and verbally abused by a psycho step-father. A small example: if I was alleged to have done something, he’d drag me by the ear to the scene of the supposed crime, usually something minor. I still can’t stand to have anyone touch my ears. The day President Kennedy was assassinated was the day my mother and I gathered the courage to escape. Why didn’t we leave sooner? Because we had become so demoralized by this monster we were more afraid of the unknown outside the door than of the hell we knew was inside.

Keep in mind this was in the early sixties and the support systems available today were non-existent. People were expected to “suck it up” and carry on with their lives. I suffered in silence for better than thirty years before a friend helped me place those memories behind a wall. That wall stayed intact until earlier this year. I can’t point to a specific incident, but something cracked that wall allowing memories to begin seeping back into my consciousness. Maybe something I watched on television, or something I heard, I don’t know.

This is 2019 and things have changed greatly. There is now help available for people combatting these dark memories, help that wasn’t even thought of fifty years ago. Another major change in my personal life is that I came out as transgender. That fact alone has been beneficial in this case.

In my previous, male, life, it was expected I would bear my burden in silence – I’d just “soldier on”. Asking for help was seen as a sign of weakness. Today, being perceived as a woman, I’m not bound by that convention. I can ask for help and support. And I have done just that. I spoke with my doctor, who directed me toward a support group. As well, I told both my best friend and my eldest son. The support and aid they have shown is amazing. An example: my best friend and I are fans of one particular show. I usually record the show to watch later, while she watches in when broadcast. We often talk about it and one night she advised me not to watch one particular episode since she felt it could be triggering to me.

Without the support of these two people, I don’t know that I’d have reached the point I could write this piece. But I have, thanks to their support and belief I can overcome this again.

As Ringo Starr said “I get by with help from my friends.”

Cat.

An essay on friends

In my posting “Some of this, some of that” of earlier today, I mentioned a friend in New Jersey.  That started me thinking about friends and friendship, so of course I have to write about it.

Friends come into our lives in various ways – through work, social settings, social media or mutual interests to name four ways this happens.  Obviously by “social media” I‘m referring to sites such as Facebook and other such sites.  And yes, I’ve actually met some of the people on my Facebook friends list and count them among my dearest friends.  And there is one lady, mentioned in “Some of this, some of that” who, because of some of our conversations, I do consider a friend in fact, not just on Facebook and am looking forward to meeting her some day.  Ms M, keep that in mind 🙂

One lady I first met through a mutual friend on MySpace (remember MySpace?).  We began chatting and arranged to meet one day at a Starbucks and have become good friends since.  By the way Carol, coffee’s on me next time 🙂

I drove a cab for several years and some of the people I first met as passengers have become friends and even though I haven’t driven in seven years, we remain close.

Sometimes people enter our lives, become friends, then suddenly are gone again.  My view is that we were brought together with these people for a specific purpose – either so they could influence us, or we, them – then, when the purpose is accomplished, they move on. Or their purpose is to introduce us to yet another person.  Yet because they were a part of our lives for even a brief moment, both we and them are better people for having met.  At least we hope they are better people for having known us.  I’ve had that happen a couple of times and yes, I am a better person for having come under the influence of these people.

I treasure my friends, am honoured that they consider me a friend as well and am always flattered when they comment on something I’ve posted either here on WordPress as words or as images on Facebook.  If you have close friends, friends you value, tell them so.

Now, enjoy your day, offer prayers and whatever support you can for the victims of Sandy and, remember to hug an artist – we need love (and friends) too.

Cat.