When I was a kid, I slept on the top bunk after a short stint on the bottom one. My elder brother, six years to be exact, had the authority, then, to make these kinds of decisions. Besides, he got to bed much later than I and didn’t want to disturb me. As if masturbation every night at midnight wasn’t a deterrent for sleep.
What exactly was he doing down there? my young mind thought. Moaning and thrashing about as if he was down there with some pretty young thing. I never asked. He never told.
Actually, I already knew. Before the bunk beds, my brother and I slept in the same queen bed for about six years—long enough for him to introduce me to his midnight issues. But with me, his affair fell right after my early bedtime.
A soft whisper. “Can I… you know?” He played with my hair and caressed my 8-year-old butt. Sometimes he would kiss me on the neck… begging… and breathing.
Ah, the raw memories of sexual abuse. They would rob me of sleep until about 10 years ago, when I took my childhood back.
I don’t demonize my brother. I don’t fault my father and mother for not protecting me from a horny brother, who probably had been sexually abused before me. I simply give none of what happened in the past any negative thought. It is almost as if it was another lifetime, completely.
Everything that had happened in my past had a purpose—a divine reason—even the horrible nightmare things, like the queen-sized bed.
My mom recently told me that my brother thinks that I’m the only sibling in the family who cares about him. I don’t know if he’s correct about that. I simply wonder about what he thinks? How he thinks or deals with the memories. I’m more curious than caring, to be honest. But, I never ask. He never tells.
Sometimes silence heals if you understand the peace that can come with it.
I am an actor by trade. I have learned to embrace the truth of other characters besides me. In my search for each character’s authentic reality, I often make up amazing pasts to build a strong back-story, it’s called in the acting world. I have more fun with this part of the process than I should. It’s my time to rewrite the words of the author so they fit me more snugly. This back-story helps me relate to the character’s malevolence, depravity, or intricate love they bring to the stage or screen.
I left the theater for a long time, because I felt as if I was avoiding my own back-story to play with other’s lives. Acting was an easier choice than reality. Plus, an added bonus was the applause at the end of the night. Praise and adulation for making people believe you were someone you’re not. And I got paid for it, while most of the world does this every day, every minute, every second.
Honestly, I’m tired of so many people living their lives asleep or in total avoidance.
When will we all stop to be still? When will we give thought to the purpose of our humanity and make some sense of the maelstrom of our pasts?
It’s in the undoing that you become one step closer to your spiritual purpose on Earth.
Take a breath. Take a moment. Let silence draw you to the path of total understanding. I have and am finally at peace.
Don’t let another day pass, acting as if none of it happened, every jot and tittle matters more that Who You Are!