Broken Windows


Of course, there’s a reason that I locked those memories away. As I let them float through me, I feel like someone’s using dental implements to rip open the scabs on my heart. Those memories are like private horror films experienced through virtual technology. Inside I scream and cry as I watch my brother destroy or threaten everything I ever cared about as a child. Memories of him throwing my cat, Sylvester, into the dryer and turning it on, breaking my first and then my second guitar, kicking my goats, whipping my horse, and ripping up my first term paper (written in the days before computers and back-ups) race through my entire system. When I finally stop the memories, I feel like Sylvester must have felt when Mom made my brother turn off the dryer and open the door: battered, nauseous, frightened and mad as hell.

I know, as a crisis counselor, that I need to untangle the past from the present. This is difficult for reasons that surprise me. I am finding an odd sense of comfort in feeling like a victim. If I am a victim, then nothing is my fault. There’s nothing I can do about it and I can just give up. I can complain and whine and get sympathy for how awful life has been. I do not have to deal with responsibility. I do not have to rewrite my book because it is hopeless.

Fortunately, I am stubborn enough not to let some asshole destroy me. The urge to rewrite my book is overpowering the urge to chuck it all and give up. I don’t even care about my panties so much anymore. Someone saw a drawer full of Jockey’s For Her. Big deal. If that excited them, they need professional help beyond what our prison system is capable and willing to provide. And hey, there’s a chance somewhere between one in a hundred and one in a thousand that the police will recover my laptop. Who knows; I might even make money off of this.

So I’m fighting back. I know that trauma begets memories of trauma and that the only way to heal from trauma is to basically breathe through it. This involves “being present,” accepting the pain and other emotions, and letting them flow through me. I got back into yoga and tai chi to help me do this. I also have begun writing again.

The copyright of the article Broken Windows in Gender & Society is owned by Regina Sewell. Permission to republish Broken Windows in print or online must be granted by the author in writing.

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