The Incredible Lightness Of Truth
Even amidst the turmoil of the past couple of weeks, there has been so much good.
In my struggles to maintain the carefully constructed facade of who I am, I’d never allowed myself the chance to fully grieve who I never was allowed to be. The secrets I kept were more toxic to me than I’d thought, and with every passing day, they dragged me lower and lower.
Letting go of those secrets has reminded me that I am free.
I’ve spent so long feeling tied down to my life, boxed in, and stuck, but I see now that the only way that I was bound was in my mind. There is a part of me that is still 8-year old Aunt Becky, scared and alone, wishing away her real life for something that makes her whole again.
She’ll always be in there, I think, searching for the love she was denied, but acknowledging that she’s in there, I think that is the first step to letting those skeletons out of my closet and making them do the foxtrot.
Knowing that I’m not alone, reading all of your comments and Tweets and emails and finding out that so many of you grew up in similar situations, I cannot tell you how much that helped. I know that there are others out there like me, statistics tell me there HAVE to be, but knowing that you, you people who I know, my PRANKSTERS, know how I feel, that made me realize that I had done the right thing by putting it all out there.
Sometimes, that’s all you need to be brave: knowing you’re not alone. But reminding yourself that it’s okay to be alone, too.
I don’t pretend to know what the future is going to bring for me. I don’t know that The Daver and I will make it. I don’t know that I won’t fall flat on my face tomorrow, breaking every bone in my face. I don’t know that I’ll ever truly succeed at anything I try to do in the way that will make me fulfilled.
But I do know that I will be honest about where I am going and where I have been. I owe it to myself and to 8-year old Aunt Becky.
I’m not afraid anymore. The truth cannot hurt me.
Not when the future is so full of light and laughter.
I promise to be back with something funnier. It’s time to bring some laughter back. I’m certainly not making a case for myself in the Funniest Blogger Thingy this year.
Over at Toy With Me, I’m talking about why we need to talk about sex with our children before they learn about it from Internet Porn.
Best of luck to you. I wish you the best.
Thank you, love. Things will go somewhere. I don’t know where, exactly, but they’re going there.
You are incredible and you are never alone. Love and hugs from a Prankster.
Love and hugs back to you. Thank you.
Another beautiful post. I’m sending a psychic hug to 8 year old Aunt Becky while I applaud her adult self.
8-year old Aunt Becky thanks you. And 29-year old Aunt Becky also thanks you. Luckily, we’re the same person, so it’s not that creepy.
First of all, what beautiful pics of your babes!
Taking care of yourself takes guts. You are doing a very brave thing here. You are NOT alone.
*hugs*
I hope that trying to put it out there helps other people too. xoxo
I love it that you can be honest and funny. It is what makes your blog so refreshing. Keep being honest with yourself and us. It is always helpful to know that you are not alone.
Having comments like this makes me feel better about not bringing The Funny all of the time. The Funny is like The Sexy except not so much.
I’ve been reading the Fancy Nancy books to my daughter and they make me think of the Younger Aunt Becky.
((hugs)) Hoping that your spirits are lifted soon and all is right in your world.
Now I need to find these books. My spirits ARE lifted, and although my heart may feel sad, I will be fine.
It’s so amazing how you open yourself up to people – the amount of trust you have is so inspiring. You’ve been going through an obvious transformaiton for a few months now, and I think we all look forward to seeing who you find on the other side of this. We’ll dust you off if you fall, Becky. Hugs
*sobs* I just love you. Thank you.
Aw, babe, sometimes that quicksand we find ourselves mired in comes from the most precious of sources. Your strength and honesty are amazing – the guts it took for you to face up to the Daver’s addiction and help him recognize it, to start therapy, and to start rebuilding – others would have given up, walked away, and just gone on being miserable. You have been sorely tested, my friend, but you are never alone. You’ll find the strength within, and, when you need a little help, we’ll be there to pat you on the ass and get you back up and moving. You are NEVER alone. Use those digits I gave you – seriously.
I will use them. It will be like The Force. I will use them wisely. xoxo
virtual {{hugs}}
Thank you, darling.
Becky,
You WILL get through this. You are a wonderful amazing person. You are not your parents, and you are a wonderful parent. We see it in what you write and how you talk about your family. You are awesome, and I bet 8 year old Becky was pretty awesome too. *BIG HUGS*
That’s all that I ever wanted to hear. Thank you.
You will never be alone, you are so brave to face all of this. I have faith in you.
I love of you. You’re a good friend to me. Thank you.
After reading this post, I went back and read yesterday’s post, and all I have to say is, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you (and The Daver) have to go through this. But I’m also here to tell you that marriages can survive even huge traumas like this (mine did). There is plenty of reason to hope. And we’ll all be here, hoping along with you.
i’m writing so hard the tip is becoming abraided. aunt becky, we have all had difficult lives that children have, but those experiences have made us the strong, kick-ass grown-ups we are today. express, express, express! life is not all about fun, but you inspire with your passion and humor. stay hard!
Love you Beck. Young Aunt Backy and Present Day Aunt Becky know each other and they still love each other. Work on that relationship. It’s worth it. Work at it with the Daver. It’s worth it.
My husband too is a workaholic you and I both know what that means. This may sound corny, but I mean it. In marriage there are highs, lows and plateaus. The highs are well, highs. The lows are hell but worth working them out.. you’ll have a marriage when you’re my age where you and the Daver will be able to laugh at some of those things. (Yes I Mean Laugh). And cry about those TOGETHER when you speak of them. You will have built a strong marriage during those years, bet me. Oh, I forgot the plateaus — the I’m so bored I’ll pick a fight with you for 3 days–years. My theory is…people break up during the plateaus. They simply don’t know what to do with all that FLAT time. (still working on that one *hooked on social media*)
Eight year old Dawne, whose father was hospitalized for years with mental illness. And whose mother is probably in hell making Hitler cry, gives eight year old Beck love and hugs. xoxo
Tragedy + time = comedy — the great Mel Brooks
I didn’t comment yesterday, Aunt Becky, because I couldn’t.
I read your blog at work and it’s totally not cool to be sitting at work sobbing, because someone else’s hurt brings all your hurt to the surface.
My parents are alcoholics.
And I am drawn to emotionally distant relationships. And I’m addicted to addicts. I figured out while I was pregnant that I needed to stop spending time with people that were this way, because all I was trying to do was win my dad’s affection over, and over, and over again, by trying to make it work with people who didn’t love me back.
It’s hard. I’m in a relationship with a genuinely nice guy…and I keep having to remind myself that, no, he isn’t being clingy…this is how a person is SUPPOSED TO ACT when they say that they care about you. They aren’t supposed to leave you with a brand new baby, fresh c-section scar, to go to the bar to get blowjobs from fat chicks in the parking lot. (True Story)
I but I know I have to overcome MY addiction, because I don’t want my daughter to watch me be a doormat and think that that’s normal. It’s a whole different ballgame now…and I plan to win it.
You will too. I’m pretty sure you’re the team captain.
No matter what happens, I truly believe that everything will be ok. Best of luck.
Isn’t finally being honest with yourself the most liberating thing ever? I went through a similar process two years ago in therapy and the best advice I can give you is to just *feel*. Whatever you’re feeling, let yourself. Revel in feeling. Swim in it.
You are amazing.
(((hugging you)))
(((hugging you)))
Just look at what a week of therapy has done for you already- you sound so empowered! And thanks for the pics of your precious kids š
I have a good friend, as a matter of fact she’s H’s nurse’s aide, that told me just recently that she was sexually abused by her cousin when she was a little girl and her grandmother, who raised her, knew all about it. She has been pulling up all these really horrible memories lately that come uncalled for and unannounced. She also just started going to a therapist and going to begin seeing a psychiatrist soon.
I look forward to the next time she shows up here to work so I can sit her down in front of the pooter and show her your post. Then, we’ll have a nice long talk, again and I will remind her that I’m here anytime she needs.
That goes for you too, sweetie.
XOXO
I am so, so, SO sorry. We, too, have been in the position that you and the Daver are in and the abyss that it puts you in is definately not one to be envied. Sadly, I have had many moments over the course of my marriage where sobbing on the floor, day after day, was one of the only things I could remember about those times. But, like you, I was able to confront those issues and we have forged ahead. We’ve had setbacks along the way, but have come out stronger and more united. You are not alone in you struggles. Your pranksters will always be here for you, loving and supportive, every step of the way.
Becky, I am usually a lurker here, but I feel like I should write now just to let you know that even those of us who have been lucky enough to avoid addictions in life are also pulling for you and hope that you make it. I cried at yesterday’s post because I thought you were going to announce the end of your marriage. I’m so happy The Daver listened to your concerns and is working on himself. I think that it’s a testament to you as a writer that I (and many others) care so much about you and your family just through your blog (or I’m just a hormonal psycho pregnant lady; I promise not to show up at your house). I’m just proud to be one of your Pranksters, and glad to join your cheering section.
{{hugs}} Even ‘normal’ families have their problems. I was the shy anti social member of a clan of outgoing, social, take charge sort of people who thought all I needed was to be forced into enough social situations that I would get over it. At age 8 I was put in charge of the 3-6 year old kiddy games for the Jaycee summer picnic in hopes I would blossom! Not learning from the past I was forced into asking people for contributions at the next party, then put in charge of a bunch of other 9 year olds who were supposed to be decorating for the Halloween party. And badgered relentlessly about my appearance, my speech and my overall attitude
I still wake up screaming with nightmares
To this day I can’t even bring myself to go to PTA meetings as a result of it for fear someone will expect me to say something or god forbid volunteer to run something.
One of the hardest things for me to come to terms with in my life these past almost three years since the doors of hell opened up and said ‘welcome’, was that in the end we are the sum of all of our parts. BUT, and yes that’s an all caps BUT, it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. Doesn’t mean all the ugly, painful, sorrowful things that happened to us turn all rosey and sparkly either. They can still suck, because, yea, they suck, but at the same time, we become a fuller, hopefully, wiser, and truer version of ourselves when we stare it all in the face and make the decision to go foward, in spite of the shit.
I still wish I could change things but I know I can’t so instead I promise myself, most days, to be the best I can be with what I have in this instant. Because, after all, in the next instant, I may be taken out by an oil spill or eaten by a sausage machine. (Sorry I had to go for at least a little lightness, I didn’t want to be all Oh Wise Horse from the Velveteen Rabbit… too much.)
I heart you Becky, all the parts that make you perfectly imperfect and 100% Real.
xxoo
I think you are one of the most amazing people on the planet. I’m not just saying that, I really REALLY mean it. I admire your courage and your honesty and I’m so sorry that you ever had to feel this way.
My past does not mirror yours but I’ve been through some shit of my own. I know what it’s like to be young and scared and alone.
I love you big. xoxo
P.S. Your kids are the cutest. You know, after mine. š
You know I love you and am here for you. You will get through this and be even more Fabulous. It’s time for some wins.
Aunt Becky, you are such a talented writer and also such a special human being! With your honest words you allow us in to your thoughts…and to feel your pain/joy. Only gifted people can do this. You are amazing, as is the Daver , and god those beautiful munchkins, well it’s obvious they are special. The 8 year old aunt becky should be proud of her ‘adult’ self. Your future IS full of light, laughter and love…i just know it.
And you know what? Your writing is only going to get better and better. You don’t always have to be the clown for us. Honestly.
“Iām not afraid anymore. The truth cannot hurt me.”
That’s 100% correct. Don’t forget it. 8 year old Becky did nothing wrong and it was not your fault you had alcoholic parents. The truth is nothing to be ashamed of or embarrassed about ~ it could shame or embarrass your parents, but oh well. They SHOULD be ashamed and embarrassed for their behavior, but that is not your fault.
Never be afraid to speak the truth.
I’m SO proud of you, Aunt Becky.
Way to go, Becky. Way to go. High Five, Thumbs Up, and Booty…um..something Booty would be good here.
You know what I mean.
Keep writing hard. It’s good for you, it’s good for me, it’s good for the whole human race.
We all have things to overcome in life, so you’re never alone.
Aunt Becky, I am backwards-girl, but I feel joyful for you. You set out to bring Becky back. You never would have had this realization if you were not well on your way. And The Daver is amazing for facing whatever propells him into work (I already love him for getting you to write). What an amazing example you’re setting for your kids! You are full of Win!!! You fill me with courage! Thank you, Aunt Becky!!!
I am always so deeply touched when you write posts like this… baring your soul, sharing your truth. Wherever your path takes you, know that I’m here… wishing you all the best always…
Becky, you gave me the strength to be honest at the doctor’s office today about the anxiety and stress that I’ve been under. While I love my son and wouldn’t change him for anything, I’ve been hiding under a rock, scared that people would judge me for his behavior. He’s so apparently normal that when he does something ‘autistic’ it shocks people, and I’ve had complete strangers and people who know me fairly well tell me that I need to beat my son, spank him until it hits, or just give him an old fashioned whoopin’. That’s not all, or even most of it. My husband is at least my rock – we’re both rather dysfunctional in our own ways. We’re both ‘Aspies’ and that helps.
You are so real it hurts. I admire you so much. You’ll make it, no matter what. Keep reminding that 8 year old that she is loved, and she will start to believe it.
also, your baby girl has the most beautiful eyes.
Wait…what? Internet porn is NOT the proper teaching tool for my kids? Shit.
I was thisclose to writing about my boyfriend deciding to go to meetings (the stop drinking kind, where everybody has coffee and chain smokes) but thought I would sound too much like a pussy to everyone who started reading when it was all about zombies and blowjobs.
Thanks to your last few posts, I just finished a first draft. Now it’s waiting on his permission. I’m fine if he doesn’t give it, because writing it felt like reading you. Big exhale, urge to punch things lessened.
PS there are sweatshop kids in Asia who are working very hard to give rich white ladies the kind of eyelashes your daughter has. Good lord. What a gorgeous girl.
We’re there for you darlin’ and you’re gonna make it and so is the family.
Haven’t read far back enough yet to come across the funny posts, but I did give you an award today on my blog. ypu’ve got an amazing way with words and every word has touched me in the few days I’ve been reading.
http://afterbedtimeblog.blogspot.com/2010/07/award-winner-here.html
Light and laughter for sure! How cool that you gained this insight into yourself (and you and The Daver are taking steps to tackle the issue). That is no small accomplishment. Some people never experience that kind of insight — although I believe most of us have some personal demons to tackle. Many people prefer denial.
There is nothing so liberating as self-insight, at least in my experience. But I was raised in a fucking cult (“fucking” is a term of art in this context; trust me) and my parents were addicted to bullshit. I was formally baptized when I was 8-years-old and the course of several more years was tragically determined by that event. As a result, for years I wore unbelievably ugly magic underwear that I believed could stop bullets. I figured that was a pretty good tradeoff for the fact that God apparently wanted His Chosen People to be recognizable by their lousy fashion sense, glazed expressions, and apparent lack of areola mammae. So when I discovered the underwear didn’t really stop bullets, I was PISSED. (I’m sort of joking, but not …)
Courage, Becky. If there is an “Gifted Writer Who Inspires Me/Restores My Faith in People” Award, I nominate you.
Wish I could say anything that someone else hasn’t already said. š
I think you and the Daver can make it, because you are absolutely worth him fighting all his own demons for, and you, well, obviously: you win at life.
So glad you’ve experienced the love and concern I’ve felt so many times in cyberspace. My bloggy buddies have been great (just recently went through a pretty nasty divorce)
Here’s to you!!! Cheers and you better DRINK up!!!!
Love you sweetness. Long time.
Oh, Aunt Becky, where were you when I was a kid (and why are you 5 years younger than me? Not fair!) Anyways, here’s a letter from 8 year old Poosemommy:
Dear 8 year old Aunt Becky,
Do you want to be my friend? We can play Barbies after school and you can spend the night, and my mom will let us eat pizza and Oreos and watch TV really late. Just call her “Mom” ’cause she hates to be called Miss so-and-so or Mrs. So-and-so. Everyone calls her Mom. My Dad works late, but when he gets home he’ll tell us a story, then tell us to be quiet about a bazillion times. You can use my My Little Pony sleeping bag. Then we can eat waffles for breakfast, watch cartoons, and play in the back yard with my little sister and her friends (they are funny!)
Will you be my best friend? I don’t really have one.
Check yes or no:
yes ___
no ___
Poosemommy
Sometimes watching my kids, I wish we could go back for a little while like that and be kids again. Not for all of it (especially those awful teen years), just the fun kid parts. Wanna play pretend with me for a minute? Close your eyes, eat an Oreo, and give your kids all the hugs they will take. We can’t change what we went through as kids, but we can sure as hell make things better for our kids. And you do. Like a fucking rockstar.
<3 U Aunt Becky!
Hugs to my new friend!
xo
Reading your last few posts, I was struck by how almost all of us are shaped by things in our past we thought were well and truly buried and forgotten. Sometimes they stay buried and we trip along merrily with our lives trying to ignore the shadows that follow us, but sometimes its in our own best interest to dig them up ourselves and deal with them. You are brave for facing your situation head-on – this way you dictate the terms, you set the boundaries. I hope that this process brings you some peace, and brings you and The Daver closer together.
(How’s that for a can of mixed metaphors?)
(And, oh my, Amelia’s eyelashes!!! Adorable).
Hey there Aunt Becky! I just had to pop in and say I’ve passed on the Sunshine blogger award to you! I haven’t had much time for internet-ing as I’ve been traveling down under and living with kangaroos who don’t have internet because they have stubby little arms and can’t type. So I’ve got a lot of reading to catch up on, but I’m missing your blog posts and hope to get more time this week.
Hope all is well! You can check out my blog for more info!
Dude, I check out for a few weeks and when I come back the whole universe is changed! You’re on the right track with the therapist(s). Maybe they can help, maybe they can’t. But you’re doing it right and that counts for everything. So I’m kinda worried, but not really because we all see what you’re made of and know that if anybody can thrive, it’s you. And the fact that Dave is taking this seriously is a BIG sign that you have momentum on your side. Best, seriously. Best.
I like the heartfelt ones better than the funny ones, me. Sending hugs to 8-year-old Aunt Becky. Been there, did that, still do it.
Ya gotta stop putting those false eyelashes on Amelia. She’s to YOUNG!
I know what you mean by feeling boxed in. I’ve actually dreamt of being enclosed in a room, banging on the walls to get out. I also had a dream of escaping the room, but when I realized my husband was home, I knew I had to go back in. I know what tools I need to get out of the box, but sometimes the box feels very comfortable and outside is scary. Writing helps a lot.
Your honesty is helping a lot of people. But keep throwing us a funny post now and then. Our sense of humor helps me to continue to believe in God (some kind of God, anyway).Good luck to you and the Daver.
Letting go can be really difficult, but the other side has a peace, a blissful wonderful sense of peace.
amazing how the truth can set you free. and if anyone can make her skeletons do the foxtrot, it’s you!
Even when you’re not funny, you’re still amazing – so just be who you feel like being in the moment. We’ll be reading either way š
I love you hardcore, lady.
Your children are beautiful (and patriotic and half naked!) and so are you!
This post bowls me over with honesty, fills me with hope and inspires me all at the same time. Thank you for your amazingly kind comment on my blog. It felt like a hug through the internet. I only know you for being the most hilarious woman on Twitter but I love this side of you. And I relate so much. I have been drowning in secrets. I need to set myself free too. Thank you.
The kids are beautiful. They will help you get through this and I am sure you will get through it with aplomb. (I love that word – aplomb!) Go Aunt B, we are all with you!
It’s not an easy time for you, I know, and I hope it makes a little bit of difference to know that you’re not alone. I’ve been reading you since just before Amelia was born, and I can’t believe how much has changed (for both of us) in that time. Honesty sucks, because it’s way less painful to gloss over any hard truths and go on with all the stupid little tasks that have gotten us this far. But (at least I hear) life is was more meaningful once you’ve confronted all your hard truths. I’m still working up to that myself.
My heart is with you as you deal with all that’s going on right now. And I’m so glad that you have so many spectacular things around that remind you that, even when things are hard, there are still sparkly cell phones to look forward to.