Why Didn't You Tell Me?

 

 

The worst thing you can say to someone who ‘spills their guts’ to you, is to say, “But, why didn’t you tell me?”  You just added another level of shame and guilt and it will shut the wounded one down.  Never mind why they did not tell you before… they are telling you now and it is a great honor that you are receiving this hurt, wounded, part of someone’s soul.  Listen with empathy and compassion.  That is your gift in return.

We are so used to saying “I’m fine”, when , obviously, we are not.  In fact, others do not want to hear anything but “I’m fine”, since they do not deal with their authentic feelings either.   Some do not wish to be a burden or rain on other’s parade.  Some do not qnat to make their feelings known because then they have ti accept it is real and they are trying mightily hard to live in denial.  When I am quiet, know I am working hard inside, like a duck on a calm-looking pond…underneath they are padding like heck.

Denial is huge when we have trauma in our lives.  As I sia, I shut down my emotins and clean house like a whirling dervish.  Even my granddaughter is on to me.  “Oh, look, mom, Grandma is doing ‘mad cleaning’.  We are alike, her mother and I.  I find something physical to do and will do it until I drop, if the trauma is huge.  Grief is my major trauma.  When my father passed, I went home and cleaned mother’s whole hosue from rafter to downstairs, eilings to floors, dusting to mopping.  It took me like an hour.  Not that her house was dirty, by any means, but my work was my way of getting through the first hour of a really rough spot.  I cannot tell you what it was like when I lsot my soulmate.  I moved in 24 hours.  I moved 12 years of living and left not a trace of myself in that house.  I know it needed a good vacuuming, but I ha hit the wall by the time I got everything taken to second hand store and wrapped up boxes for shiping home.  How I did not die of a heart attack, I will never know.  I was a crazed person.  I somehow, have to shut down emotion and turn it all into physical.  Smaller stressors can have me walking in circles taking to msyelf to get through it on my own rather than projecting or complete denial. 

Often, emotional pain is attached to our sense of Self;  not being “enough”, worthy, our guilt and shame that is misplaced, and fear of all kinds.  We feel too weak, too vulnerable, too fragile to even speak of “it” (whtever IT might be).  And a reason we do not tell, is, in part, feeling like we are reevealing some of our powerlessness.  Women, particularly, have been conditioned to think that we are “too emotional”, “too sensitive’, too much a drama queen, and by telling, we only exacerbate that belief about ourselves.  Asd well some people, who are there to tell IT too, are too weak themselves and might react in anger, in guilt, and open us up to ridicule and judgement - might abandon or reject us.   We tend, also not to want pity, nor to be seen as someone who cannot handle life and its many dramas.  We do not want to pset the apple cart and be made to feel like we are simply being Drama Queens….again…  and have our feelings disrespected, devalued, or dismissed.  One lat reason:  We do not want to be seen as if we can not cope, and that that might be true.  And so we swallow our truths, paste a smile on our face, and pretend we are doing the courageous, best thing, by not telling, no matter how much we are hurt.

I, for one, am like a wounded wolf.  I crawl off into isolation and try to heal myself without anyone noticing, until I an no longer take it and I blurt out everything all at once.  It is a heavy burden for others to bear but I cannot bear it alkone any more.

Choose well, who we tell, sisterfriends.  Even lfuelong best friends do not aways know what to do with our emotional pain.  May you be blessed with the Listner, The Non-jugmental, the Cimpassionate other, that would take our emotional pain we have had need to express, and will comfort it like it were a wounded newborn.  Those people are priceless, rare, in fact, and safe for us to speak what smetimes is unspeakable.  Nurture that kind of relaitonship.   It may take some time for us to trust enough to do so, but sometimes we simply have to tell someone, because, inside, it hardly sounds real to us, nevermind be accepted as real by someone else.

Blessed be, sisterfriends.  Blessed be.

©Carol Desjarlais 3.20. 22

I attepted to use my watercolor creams.  I am  not sold on them, but I am giving them one last audition before I use them with my little stuents and get them used up.

Along with them, are th Crayola Signature Watercolor Creams.  They are getting their last chance as well.

Both are difficult to use penwork over.

I used some sticky tape ( the thin blue lines) to help frame this character.  Notice her eyes look both directions, on urpose, showing we do not know where to turn, betimes.  I left off her hair to symbolize the nakednes we feel when we do tell.  The flowers holding her in, of course, has it meanings.