Cycle of Change
The seats of the S10 pickup truck were stained, floorboards dirty with debris, but I climbed in, shifting my feet away from the trash. My father climbed in swiftly. There were some important things he had to take care of, but he had wanted me to come. About two miles into the “unknown destination”, my father pulled into the local Walmart and said he had to meet someone. The sun was already sitting high in the sky, and his directions were perplexing.
“Get out and wait for me. Do not go inside, and do not talk to anyone. I have people watching.” He said, with a firmness you did not question.
I sat. I waited. I walked. I waited. I saw cars come; I saw cars go. My stomach growled with protest, my throat yearned for something cold to drink, but I had no money, neither could I call anyone, because “people were watching”. Eight hours I waited. Eight hours until workers started to talk to me in the parking lot. Eight hours until a security guard brought me inside.
Panic was rising fast, what if “they saw me” walk inside? I disobeyed—was my only thought. My father showed up before I could give my name, he gave his speech of being held up, and how he was going to take me home. But I knew. This abuse was not in the form of a beaten body, but of a beaten mind. He had complete control.
A father beats his children, ridicules, manipulates and the future holds much the same for their children and thus the cycle of abuse. In many ways I agree with this understanding, and its proven relationship with abuse. However, I feel that there are some aspects that are much easier said than changed. “Stop the cycle of abuse”, people shout. “The cycle ends with me”, others shout, and while these are great energizers for change, it seldom brings about the comfort for someone who was the subject to abuse as a child. Why? Becuase often we may concentrate of one type of abuse rather than the totality of them all. Why does change feel so incomplete after having made changes to yourself, for you and your family? For me the answer was not easy and has taken years to uncover. At first glance, one might say I broke the cycle, having never beat my children, as was done to me. Yet, herein lies the struggle that remains even amongst the change. There was more than one part of my mind or body that was abused. Healing just one, does not stop the cycle, it merely marks the beginning of change.-- There are a series of notes that make up Amazing Grace. When all played together it is a harmonious tune. However, for each key changed, the song becomes more and more lost in sounds that no longer represent the peaceful rhythms. Fixing just one, does not bring the song back into focus, it rather brings you one step closer to finding the tune and harmony again. Abuse is no different. For some there will need to be a lot of changes to heal what was broken, for others, maybe not so much.
When I first became a mother, my roadmap to parenthood was simply to do the opposite of my father. Where he hated, I loved, where he hit, I hugged, where he failed, I strived, but although my roadmap was clear at the time, years later I would see it as distorted still. I have learned that my guilt, my fears, my anxieties, my bruises are often displayed and my children- the beneficiaries. While openly self-criticizing my appearance, I feed the remnants of abuse. While showing fear to be myself, I show fragments of jagged edges that cut rather than heal, and while I love without conditions, I am still learning how to express not only my love for my children, but also the love for myself. How can one teach their children the healthy balance of family, life and God, when the teacher is swimming uphill to a raging waterfall? For me changing the cycle meant changing me-not just one action or event, but many. With a focus on mental, physical and spiritual challenges, I accept all that made me, but change what is necessary.
For every prison erected to build fear, I will tear it down. For every shackle that debates my worth, I will crush it, for every thought that says I don’t deserve to be loved, I will rebuke. I am a child of God and although my memories were not a display of what love should look like, my relationship with God is. 1 Corinthians 7:32 Love is patient and kind; love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way; it is not irritable or resentful; it does not rejoice at wrongdoing but rejoices with the truth. Love bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things.
I, as a parent, am not perfect, but I strive to be better. I strive to be the change that transforms the true essence of life, family and God into our home. Sometimes it’s small things, like open conversation without judgment, other times it’s a laugh inducing moment, where for me it might have been guilt or ridicule. Other times, when the house is quiet and my thoughts are plenty, it is saying to my wonderful children, “I am so thankful that God gave me you”.
We all struggle with something, some may understand the voice in this story, some may not, but even still—Be the change you need to be for you or for someone in dire need of change.
Colossians 3:21
Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.