Reset Your Default

“Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”

- Ann Lamott

Putting the most shameful aspects of your family and home out in the streets is a very taboo thing to do. I’ve had conversations with friends who whisper when they share unpleasant truths about their loved ones, about crimes that were committed against them or their families, or about acts they committed before their own enlightenment.

Isolation

When bad things happen, it’s often the oppressed who are programmed with denial through gaslighting and shame to keep them silent. And violence thrives in silence. How can anyone catch a break when no one knows they're suffering?

A younger version of myself believed and hoped someone would break through our family’s isolation to see what was happening and not only save me, but also tell my story (for me). How would this even be possible? We were perfect little child soldiers in public. I kept all offenses locked in a safe tucked away in my mind and fascia, or cellular memory. I myself couldn’t even find it to unpack it, so how would anyone else be able to do so?

Permission

In my third and final effort to go no contact with my first bully, my mother, I eventually broke my silence to call her after she relocated from Austin (my home) to our native New Orleans. In one of our last calls before she died, I asked her for permission to blog about my childhood and what she did to me. I shared with her that the lessons I learned may help others and I was feeling pulled to share.

She replied, “If you need to air dirty laundry, do what you need to do.”

Trauma Bond

Why in the world did I seek her approval? After I requested her permission, I was so mad at myself. It was like someone asking their rapist for permission to tell someone else what happened. It made little sense. But I believe I did it because everyone gives abusive mothers a pass. “It’s your MOM! You only get one mom. You need to let her be and forgive her.”

Now that she’s dead, I’m glad I asked. Two years later and it’s actually easier to write knowing I cleared the air with her when I had the chance. I wouldn’t share anything she hadn’t heard before. At the age of 17 and again at 25, I sat her down and shared several pages of her offenses.

Unfortunately, her bipolar and narcissistic brain couldn’t own up to one thing, but I did my part. I used my voice to speak my truth and express the pain she inflicted on me. I vented. I’ve spent thousands on my health since I left her home to put myself back together, to reset my default of wholeness and love.

Liberation

My family had and held a lot of secrets. And most of the adults in my immediate family died very young. I learned early that secrets make people sick. I vowed early on to live in as much truth as I could muster at a time. It’s painful at first when it’s so unfamiliar but, in my experience, the benefits outweigh the backlash.

The benefit of airing dirty laundry, if done correctly, is you get to learn how common your life's challenges are by learning what other people are experiencing or have experienced. You also give others an opening to learn more about you and provide empathy and resources to improve your life. Because if you don't share anything, you don't get feedback from other people. We’re all connected, and evolution does not happen in a vacuum. Resetting your view of sharing personal and family secrets is a liberating act and one of my first acts toward pursuing freedom.

What are your thoughts on airing dirty laundry? Do you believe you can live a healthy and full life while harboring damaging secrets?