VOLUME 4 |NUMBER 2 |2013 19 18 ICSA TODAY
Driftwood Dolphin: Driftwood from a lake reminded me of my favorite
animal, the dolphin. You can see my art moving to a place of healing and
fond memories.
There Is Beauty in My Mind Now
Personal Affirmations: Disconnection ruled my existence. I needed to touch and
use my senses to keep myself in the present. Just repeating affirmations wasn’t
enough, so I put them on rocks I could hold and feel as I read them.
Memoryscape: Random rocks pieces of old, fallen, broken wood I found separately
but together they show a different kind of beauty.
When I Finally Walked Away
When I finally walked away from
this group, my parents took me,
eight of my children, and a
granddaughter into their humble,
two-bedroom home. I had to start
over at 47 years of age in an
America that was a foreign
country to me. We had to adjust
to a different society in a small
Southern town where newcomers
were not accepted. My children
had never lived in their own
country. We spoke English and
looked the same as everyone
else but when folks found out
our background and began to
see the difference between our
history and theirs, they rejected
us. We had little money and few
resources or job opportunities,
no vehicle, and no credit history.
We were mistrusted even by the
churches who knew my relatives
well.
Despite all of this, I was bringing
myself and my children home. Not
only was it their first encounter
with their biological family and
our roots and heritage, but it also
was a new reality. Neither they nor
I had been able to become
bonded to anyone, not even each
other, because we lived as a group
with no individuality. We each had
to find our own identity and begin
to find our autonomy. Doing these
things is still a struggle at times
for all of us, as my children have
grown and entered American
culture and politics. My parents’
and brothers’ open arms and
loving hearts made all of this
possible.
These past fourteen and a half
years have been a traumatic
journey. I have struggled daily, to
parent so many children while
going back to school myself, to
help my children transition from
home schooling to a public-
school environment, and then to
care for my elderly parents until
their life’s journey ended. I have
been more fortunate than most
my children have not let their
integration back into society
prevent them from helping one
another and me as they are able.
My oldest children living at home
were my right arm and worked the
hardest to fill the gap the absence
of a father had made.
Coming home, I closed the door on
my past and threw away the key,
just as I had done 30 years earlier
when I went into the group. I was
now beginning a third life with
three sets of four children. None of
these three sets of four siblings
knew each other very well because
there had been so many
separations. Even though I was
born in America, my mother had
sheltered and taught against “The
World.”This upbringing included
very little TV, and no worldly music
or movies or outside friendships so
American society was still foreign.
It was as if I just woke up from a 30-
year coma. I didn’t know where or
how to begin.
I was at the center of a hurricane,
but there was no peaceful “eye” in
my personal storm. My emotions
had all but died, and then this
figurative hurricane blew the
skeletons out of my mental closet.
One thing I knew, and that was
how to work hard and persevere
every day as if it were my last, to
keep up a brave front, and make
the best of the worst. I worked
hard at moving on, stayed positive,
and attended self-help workshops
and all kinds of counseling for
both myself and my children. No
one understood my situation, least
of all the churches. (I have not lost
my Christian faith however, it is
deeply scarred and I am easily
triggered by “religious”
associations.)
I tried to give my children a normal
life, but they carried the damage of
trauma and abuse, just as I had.
This damage only festered as the
years passed. All of these issues are
another chapter in my life I wish
not to write more of them here—
only to express that there is such a
vast need for us to help the second
generation and their children. How
to stop this cycle of trauma? Before
tackling these questions, I first had
to work on my own recovery.
ICSA_volume4Issue2_Final 8/9/13 8:31 PM Page 20
Driftwood Dolphin: Driftwood from a lake reminded me of my favorite
animal, the dolphin. You can see my art moving to a place of healing and
fond memories.
There Is Beauty in My Mind Now
Personal Affirmations: Disconnection ruled my existence. I needed to touch and
use my senses to keep myself in the present. Just repeating affirmations wasn’t
enough, so I put them on rocks I could hold and feel as I read them.
Memoryscape: Random rocks pieces of old, fallen, broken wood I found separately
but together they show a different kind of beauty.
When I Finally Walked Away
When I finally walked away from
this group, my parents took me,
eight of my children, and a
granddaughter into their humble,
two-bedroom home. I had to start
over at 47 years of age in an
America that was a foreign
country to me. We had to adjust
to a different society in a small
Southern town where newcomers
were not accepted. My children
had never lived in their own
country. We spoke English and
looked the same as everyone
else but when folks found out
our background and began to
see the difference between our
history and theirs, they rejected
us. We had little money and few
resources or job opportunities,
no vehicle, and no credit history.
We were mistrusted even by the
churches who knew my relatives
well.
Despite all of this, I was bringing
myself and my children home. Not
only was it their first encounter
with their biological family and
our roots and heritage, but it also
was a new reality. Neither they nor
I had been able to become
bonded to anyone, not even each
other, because we lived as a group
with no individuality. We each had
to find our own identity and begin
to find our autonomy. Doing these
things is still a struggle at times
for all of us, as my children have
grown and entered American
culture and politics. My parents’
and brothers’ open arms and
loving hearts made all of this
possible.
These past fourteen and a half
years have been a traumatic
journey. I have struggled daily, to
parent so many children while
going back to school myself, to
help my children transition from
home schooling to a public-
school environment, and then to
care for my elderly parents until
their life’s journey ended. I have
been more fortunate than most
my children have not let their
integration back into society
prevent them from helping one
another and me as they are able.
My oldest children living at home
were my right arm and worked the
hardest to fill the gap the absence
of a father had made.
Coming home, I closed the door on
my past and threw away the key,
just as I had done 30 years earlier
when I went into the group. I was
now beginning a third life with
three sets of four children. None of
these three sets of four siblings
knew each other very well because
there had been so many
separations. Even though I was
born in America, my mother had
sheltered and taught against “The
World.”This upbringing included
very little TV, and no worldly music
or movies or outside friendships so
American society was still foreign.
It was as if I just woke up from a 30-
year coma. I didn’t know where or
how to begin.
I was at the center of a hurricane,
but there was no peaceful “eye” in
my personal storm. My emotions
had all but died, and then this
figurative hurricane blew the
skeletons out of my mental closet.
One thing I knew, and that was
how to work hard and persevere
every day as if it were my last, to
keep up a brave front, and make
the best of the worst. I worked
hard at moving on, stayed positive,
and attended self-help workshops
and all kinds of counseling for
both myself and my children. No
one understood my situation, least
of all the churches. (I have not lost
my Christian faith however, it is
deeply scarred and I am easily
triggered by “religious”
associations.)
I tried to give my children a normal
life, but they carried the damage of
trauma and abuse, just as I had.
This damage only festered as the
years passed. All of these issues are
another chapter in my life I wish
not to write more of them here—
only to express that there is such a
vast need for us to help the second
generation and their children. How
to stop this cycle of trauma? Before
tackling these questions, I first had
to work on my own recovery.
ICSA_volume4Issue2_Final 8/9/13 8:31 PM Page 20
