This is a letter I wrote and sent to my friend Teri, who grew up two houses down the street from me in Michigan. I first knew her when she was six years old, and I walked home from school with her every day through high school. Both of Teri's natural parents had died (her father died when I was in 5th grade) and she lived with her demanding, perfectionist stepmother and later, a stepfather. Rarely could Teri play or hang out after school; she always had a list of chores to attend to and I knew she paid hell if they weren't done. I was seldom invited to her house and I, like the rest of the neighbors, couldn't stand her stepmother and was actually afraid and intimidated by her as a child. Lou was the ultimate wicked stepmother.
Now I know that I was usually the last person Teri talked to before she entered her house of horrors, and until the past two years I didn't have a clue exactly what she was going through. I was never aware that she and her sister Lisa were not only emotionally abused, but also physically abused children. It was a secret they guarded well and they're still paying a dear price for it to this day. Lisa can't speak of her childhood without tears welling up in her eyes, and after years of counseling, Teri has a great deal of trouble establishing and maintaining close relationships, even with her husband, who she's now separated from, and her two grown daughters.
This has affected me deeply and I've questioned myself repeatedly to figure out how I could have been so completely oblivious to something so horrible that was happening right under my nose. When Teri answered my letter, she thanked me profusely and told me that my words meant a lot to her. She said she became a master at hiding her abuse, and she never once even considered that I or anyone else "should have sensed something." The one time Teri confided her abuse to our counselor in high school, she was told that those things didn't happen in nice neighborhoods like ours to children who got all A's like Teri did, and she must be making it up. That's truly what people thought in those days. Child abuse happened in lower class neighborhoods only and manifested itself in obvious ways to the surrounding adults.
Our little neighborhood in the 1960s, like a lot of middle-class neighborhoods, had a "Leave it to Beaver" sensibility to it; a climate where all adults were expected to be responsible and loving parents, and all kids were expected to be obedient and respectful children who never questioned the adults in their life. It was the perfect cover for something like this to happen. In examining the situation and talking with Teri, I've finally come to forgive myself for my blinding innocence.
March 28, 2011
Dear Teri,
I must confess that I’ve been an occasional “lurker” on your blog for awhile now. Until reading it, I didn’t realize some of the things you went through as a child with your stepmother. I’ve been questioning myself about how I could have been so naïve not to have picked up on the abuse that you suffered. Of course, I knew that Lou could be verbally abusive, not to mention a virtual “slave driver,” and I definitely remember a few occasions when she scared me half to death. I think most of the kids in the neighborhood were intimidated by her to some extent.
But never did I suspect that she was also physically abusive. How did I miss that? I walked home from school with you every day. How did I not know about your foot issues and your teeth issues? I guess it was just so out of my realm of thinking and experience. In my limited view of the world at that time, the adults in our lives were there to ultimately protect us, not to do us harm. And even moreso, it was drummed into our heads as children never to question adults about their actions. I think it’s totally amazing that Lou found a man who would go along with her behavior without speaking up, which makes him 100% guilty of complicity in my eyes. Or maybe it’s not all that unusual; perhaps I have way too much faith in humankind.
And what about the adults in the neighborhood, the teachers at school, did none of them ever realize what was going on? I’ve had conversations with my mother, and she truly didn’t have a clue about what was happening. She’s as stunned and angry as I am to find out the truth. I find myself wondering what the consequences would have been if you HAD told someone, or if someone had realized and contacted the authorities. What were the repercussions of child abuse back in the 60s? Were children taken away from their families and sent to foster homes? Were adults jailed? Or, worst of all, did NOTHING happen?
All I can say is that I’m so sorry for having blinders on for all those years. I can’t say how it would have been different had I realized, but I do feel a sense of regret, as your friend, for being so oblivious to what you were going through. I think you’re an amazing person for working through what happened in your past, for doing your best to understand the behaviors involved, and after all is said and done, for being able to have some sort of relationship with both of them yet, no matter how limited it may be. I think the ability to forgive is so essential for moving forward with your life. I’m not at all sure that I could do the same in your place and I admire you for it.
Love,
Sharon
Sharon
No comments:
Post a Comment