Posted by Becky @ 6:00 am Believe
March 12, 2010 | Words
I was about 8 when I went to Walt Disney World’s Magic Kingdom in Florida, just after it first opened. I wore knee-high socks with a long-sleeved pink velvet dress. In Florida.
This one.
But, hey, it was my favorite dress and apparently all the rage in amusement-park fashion.
I remember waiting in lines and a “ride” that looked like a giant tree. (If I’d been back since then, I might actually know what some of these things are called.) I remember eating in a real restaurant, one that served shrimp. I remember the haunted-house ride that made it look like the person in the middle seat was a ghost. I was the ghost. I remember going through the It’s a Small World ride more than once at the end of the day.
I left that place with magic dust in my eyes and the desire to believe fairy tales.
Ah, yes. Fairy tales.
I’ve always known certain things in my head about my family, but I made up a fairy tale for my heart. This is a family with an abusive father (my grandfather), who tormented and tortured his children and then all but forgot them when he left them behind. While he was abusive to his own children, he never laid a hand on his grandchildren (as far as I know) or great-grandchildren, but they lived with the effects of his abuse every day.
You see, I knew the truth of the secrets that lurk just below the surface of a six-pack or two — abandonment and abuse of every kind. I knew the truth of addiction — whether it was to alcohol, drugs, food or religion — and the continuing cycle of abuse, whether it was inflicted on others or oneself.
But I wanted to believe my fairy tale. The one that said I was different. I had people who loved me, saw the best in me and wouldn’t intentionally hurt me. Oh, how I wanted to believe that fairy tale. I did for many, many years. Because it was so much prettier than the truth.
The truth is, this is a family with sisters who haven’t seen each other in 20 years.
This is a family where you could say something wrong and be banished for life, without notice, leaving you to wonder just what you did wrong. If you ask, nobody knows. Or, even if they do know, they won’t say.
This is a family where a mother asked at the start of every telephone conversation with one of her daughters, “Are you still fat?”
This is a family with another father (my grandfather’s son) who disowned his own son, reclaimed him and then flipped him a big old bird from his grave, intentionally naming him in his will for the sole purpose of saying, in front of everyone, that his son gets nothing from his father.
I don’t understand intentional cruelty like that (fairy tale), and, yet, I do (head).
Ah, yes. Fairy tales.
I was the only one who believed my fairy tale. It was pretty and sparkly and sprinkled with magic dust. But now it’s time to put the storybook back on the shelf.
…
The princess has been kissed, and she’s awake now. Wide awake. For herself. For her children. For their children.
The Beginning
Posted by Becky @ 6:00 am 
March 12th, 2010 at 9:21 am
I’m sorry.
And here is to new beginnings.
March 12th, 2010 at 12:56 pm
I’m glad you’re awake. I’m sorry for the hurt.
March 15th, 2010 at 1:38 am
Cherish yourself. And Cherish you wonderful husband and children. You have not only survived, but have broken a chain of terror. You - are awesome!