Scars
An old high school teacher of mine has been uploading digital memories to Facebook like this gem, circa 1994. That’s me in the middle, wedged between a girlfriend I still enjoy and a man I barely remember, on a school-sponsored trip to Europe. On the surface, everything looks fine. I was all about the surface back then.
It hurts me to look at this picture. What kills me is the body language. The perfectly composed face — friendly, but fixed — masking the discomfort I have at standing so close to that man, any man, even perfectly nice ones like him. The elbows forcing a pocket of space, however slight. The arms crossed in protection over my vulnerable underbelly, the source of my pain, the crime of my gender, a subconscious attempt to press my soul in lest it splatter all over the foreign sidewalk and reveal its hidden truths.
I am in a safe relationship by that point in time, but I haven’t begun to deal with the scars of the previous one. They seep out in dozens of subtle ways; in rigid postures, in white lies, in escape. When I look back on my diaries from those years I read things of which I have absolutely no recollection. Things that happened to somebody else, a mildly pathetic heroine in a dime store novel doomed for the remainder table. I am not a sympathetic reader. Perhaps I should try harder to be one.
I have tools now I didn’t have then and still, it’s hard. Even all these years later I cover up, accommodate, lose my bearings, lie down when I shouldn’t, second-guess every single one of my emotions and desires and motivations. I thought I could get away with not rehashing the past, with avoiding the eyes of my gift horse and trudging on forward and forward and forward but as I age I become more aware of myself, of the little idiosyncrasies stuck like burrs on my coattails. Every tangled scene I’ve ever walked through is a part of me, whether I remember it or not.
What sticks with me most is that no one really knew. I was surrounded by people but I couldn’t tell a single one, not really. I was too ashamed. Now I know that if I had only confided in someone, I would have discovered the wretched truth: that my story was anything but unique. That one in four women know it by heart.
The domestic violence blog is almost ready. I am actively seeking contributors, preferably not anonymous, to share personal stories of DV (whether physical or emotional, whether as a partner or as a child). Let me know if you would like to write a post, and please spread the word.
Renée aka Mekhismom says:
Oh Maggie, I understand all too well. I was younger when I experienced beating at the hands of a *lover* maybe I will guest post.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:35 am
Marinka says:
I’m so very sorry for your pain. As a mother of a young daughter, your post is haunting. I worry that no matter how many advances we make (we as women, as society) we will always continue to worry about our daughters, their partners and the people who cross their path. Would that it weren’t so.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:36 am
kd@abitsquirrelly says:
I was in an abusive relationship in High School. It’s unreal how long these things take hold and scar us.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:36 am
jodiur says:
I can’t wait to see it, and not just b/c I’m one of the guest contributors.
Good for you for telling your story.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:37 am
Gypsy says:
Knowing how very many women know this, intimately, I’m always shocked that I don’t. Not really. Shocked. And grateful.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:43 am
Insta-Mom says:
I have the opposite experience of Marinka…I have all sons. And though I will never have to worry about what may happen to my daughter, I am acutely aware of what I must teach my sons, what they must understand. The gentleness they must possess along with their masculinity. Because although I don’t know it personally, the scars of someone else’s abuse have largely shaped who I am.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:52 am
JES says:
All those ancient and “primitive” tribes who mistrusted photography because it stole the soul — maybe they were onto something, huh? (I’ve never read how they felt about diaries but my guess is they’d be even more suspicious. And there you were, gleefully hitching your own soul to two of the devils — not even counting the human one! Ah, innocence…)
Good to see your eloquent self — tortured, tangled heart and all — back here again.
January 14th, 2009 at 11:56 am
Aunt Becky says:
I know the story, too. Too well.
January 14th, 2009 at 12:01 pm
Mariah says:
I think it is good that you have the diaries-you need to read them and you ned to remember in order to heal. I have worked at sojourn house for many years, it’s a domestic viloence shelter here. I talk to woman ALL the time about domestic violence and I am a survivor of DM. Let me know how I can hep, I think a public forum would be so helpful to woman that just need to ‘talk’ . I’m sorry for your pain Maggie
January 14th, 2009 at 12:12 pm
Aimee Greeblemonkey says:
Wow, this post really speaks to me. There was abuse in my background from my dad and I repressed it. It’s taken me quite a long time, lots of therapy, and some meds… but I have some to terms with it and I am feeling really healthy now.
But we just recently found some pics of me with my dad, and me and my husband had to chuckle, cause I just look PISSED. Even at a really young age.
http://flickr.com/photos/greeblemonkey/3059307561/in/set-72157604566655472/
http://flickr.com/photos/greeblemonkey/3059306195/in/set-72157604566655472/
January 14th, 2009 at 12:26 pm
Jim says:
I’m so sorry that you ever had to go through that. The DV Blog is going to be a wonderful thing for awareness and support.
January 14th, 2009 at 12:28 pm
Kate Coveny Hood says:
There are so many kinds of abusive relationships and it’s amazing how we can pretend that we’re not in them. Even when it’s physical. Anything women (or just people) do now to create awareness really counts. Even a blog post. You are a champion for a very important cause. I’m just sorry that you had to suffer for it first.
January 14th, 2009 at 12:34 pm
Bennie says:
Oh Maggie. I had a feeling. You are so brave and courageous to do something positive from your experience. I’m looking forward to seeing the new site…so I can help you spread the word.
January 14th, 2009 at 12:37 pm
won says:
Aho sister….
Just Aho.
(It’s an old desert term of agreement and acknowledgment)
January 14th, 2009 at 1:24 pm
Kel says:
Wounds heal but scars are forever…I am glad you were able to (are) dealing with your pain, sometimes what we can’t see hurts us just as much as what we can see.
~K
January 14th, 2009 at 1:31 pm
Christy says:
I think it’s interesting and sad what images can hide. Things are never what they seem…I’m sorry for what you went through. I experienced it in a different way than you did, but I do know it, and I’m sorry for the girl in that picture. The woman that is the author of this blog has come a long way.
January 14th, 2009 at 1:46 pm
Carolynn @ Willow Tree says:
I’m just starting to heal; if the offer still stands I’d love to throw my 2 cents in, like you said, in the hopes of helping just one. Thank you, Maggie, for your bravery.
Blessings, Carolynn
January 14th, 2009 at 1:53 pm
Cathy says:
Maggie — How have I been in the blogosphere for six months and not found you until now? Thank you for sharing such powerful emotions and authentic stories. I’ll be a regular visitor.
January 14th, 2009 at 2:10 pm
Jennifer H says:
With every word, you make it easier for the next woman, the next girl, the next child, the next man (even), to tell.
I’m so sorry that you knew that kind of pain.
January 14th, 2009 at 2:21 pm
Angela Klocke says:
Hi — a friend shared your blog with me, in light of your new site. *I* would be happy to make a contribution.
January 14th, 2009 at 2:35 pm
qt says:
I have yet to meet someone lucky enough to NOT know what you are talking about. Which is very, very sad.
January 14th, 2009 at 2:38 pm
Mojo says:
Man.oh.man.oh… I can’t imagine what it took to write this. When you get the new blog up, make me one of your first calls. I’ll promote it as hard as I know how…
Wasn’t expecting you back until tomorrow. I love pleasant surprises!
January 14th, 2009 at 2:45 pm
fraizerbaz says:
Yes, it sucks. It really does.
And this is why I, a single-mom of an almost six year-old little girl, will not let any man into our lives.
I can’t – for fear that this might happen to her.
January 14th, 2009 at 2:56 pm
Nicole says:
I don’t need to imagine what it took to write this. And I applaud you, brave one.
January 14th, 2009 at 3:32 pm
racheld says:
I told you, Sweetpea. The FIERCE of you shines.
And now you’re writing about the forge that fired it, and the courage it takes to LET it shine—my admiration just GROWS.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:14 pm
Gwen says:
So much makes sense, now.
And I’m sorry for that.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:23 pm
Rhea says:
It has to be so hard to look back on who you were and what you’ve gone through and not be able to save the then-you. Does that make sense?
January 14th, 2009 at 4:31 pm
fancy feet says:
What a great great thing you’re doing with your up and coming website. By letting people in and sharing your story you’re paving the way for their journeys and their voices and their way through. That takes guts and courage and you have a whole lot of both.
January 14th, 2009 at 4:54 pm
mary says:
One thing that kills me about your story is how young you were. High school?! That’s a time for butterflies in your belly, for innocent love. Not what you went though.
Do you wonder whatever happened to him? Maybe you don’t, but I do. I hope he got help.
January 14th, 2009 at 5:36 pm
we_be_toys says:
Wow. Just when I think you can’t amaze me with further revelation, you go and drop a bomb. A good bomb, in the sense of what you’re doing with the energy of that experience, but damn – I’m just so heartbroken for that girl you were, in spite of knowing what an amazing woman she became.
Love you-
January 14th, 2009 at 5:49 pm
The Introvert says:
I have been blessed to have never been physically abused, but I allowed myself to be emotionally and verbally abused for years. I still don’t understand it. I grew up in a loving home with wonderful parents. I don’t know where my self-esteem issues came from. But at least I am finally at the point where I feel I have put all of that behind me.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:32 pm
The Introvert says:
P.S. Thank you for sharing. I am so glad you’re shedding light on this subject.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:33 pm
father muskrat says:
That’s awful. You look like a little kid who just jumped up after a long session of Saturday morning Smurfs cartoons. Far too young to be hiding the feelings you just described.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:40 pm
pgoodness says:
Just when I think you’ve inspired me and moved me as much as you could, you go and write another post. I’m glad you shared this. It makes what you’re doing that much more powerful.
January 14th, 2009 at 6:55 pm
Maria says:
Maggie,
I’m so sorry you experienced that at your young age.
Good luck finishing up the DV blog. I’m 100% behind you in this project!!
-Maria
January 14th, 2009 at 7:53 pm
amysprite says:
I am so glad you are creating the new blog for DV victims. I hope that it helps other women write their way through the pain and healing process. I’m so sorry that you went through this at such a young age. I have other friends that were in abusive relationships in high school and it seems inconceivable to me that it could start so young, but I know that it does. Best of luck with the new endeavor.
January 14th, 2009 at 7:58 pm
fancy feet says:
I also wanted to say how sorry I am that you went through what you did. And thank you for sharing your story with us.
January 14th, 2009 at 8:47 pm
Jennifer says:
Hugs Maggie!
Good luck w/ your new project!
January 14th, 2009 at 9:22 pm
Erika says:
Thank you for trusting us with this piece of your past. So looking forward to the DV blog.
January 14th, 2009 at 9:46 pm
Heather says:
I am so sorry Maggie.
January 14th, 2009 at 9:55 pm
flutter says:
you are brave, and good.
January 14th, 2009 at 10:07 pm
Alison Veres says:
I think one of the best things we humans do is when we take our experiences of hurt and pain and use them as a motivation to bring peace and healing where its needed. There’s alot of hurt and pain out there. There’s alot of peace and healing needed. I look forward to exploring your new blog.
January 14th, 2009 at 10:20 pm
LaskiGal says:
It is not amazing what our bodies reveal? The shifted eyes, the turn of the shoulder, the tilt of a hip, the clasp of the hands . . . the force of a smile?
But that image of you now is what I see. The powerfully sly grin, the confident raise of the arms, the wisdom of the arched brows.
That is you . . . SO you.
January 14th, 2009 at 10:46 pm
sweetsalty kate says:
Violence unsilenced? Triumphant. What a brilliant thing, maggie.
January 14th, 2009 at 10:47 pm
Candance says:
The part about being ashamed is funny (not ha-ha funny) because I spent years wondering how someone could be ashamed of something that wasn’t their fault until, not too long ago, I found myself saying those exact words when my own secret came out. See what I mean about not ha-ha funny?
January 15th, 2009 at 2:56 am
Angel says:
What you’re doing with the DV blog I think will help you even today. Especially knowing that you’re giving women more to hold onto than what you had back then. Sometimes our own salvation comes from saving others.
January 15th, 2009 at 3:42 am
Black Hockey Jesus says:
Hey you. Scars are toughened skin that indicate old wounds, yes, but they’re also little signs that point the way… in. This picture/post changed the way I know you. And not in a bad way either.
January 15th, 2009 at 6:28 am
Prefers Her Fantasy Life says:
I was never abused per se. But I do remember the neighbor lifting me over the fence, hands stategically placed under my breasts; my guitar teacher following me home in his car and from his rolled down window, begging to give me a ride; a high school teacher who convinced me I was his soulmate; an out-of-town acquaintance who let me crash on his floor coming to me in the middle of the night and feeling me out.
And even with my early feminists leanings, I NEVER TOLD ANYONE. I didn’t even tell the creep to stop touching me–I pretended to sleep.
Yah, so I really admire what you’re doing.
January 15th, 2009 at 6:32 am
vodkamom says:
That was an incredibly well-written and powerful post. as always. And, my heart goes out to the lovely child who was forced to grow up all too soon.
January 15th, 2009 at 7:13 am
Justme says:
(((hugs))) Maggie…
My experience was of the watching it happen to my mother kind. It definitely scars and shapes and defines…and the pictures sure can tell some hidden stories.
If you are looking for more contributors at some point, I *think* I could find the courage to share without being anonymous…
January 15th, 2009 at 7:34 am
Tasses says:
Brave, as usual… me left wondering how I could ever be so.
January 15th, 2009 at 8:41 am
Melissa says:
Thank you for sharing your scars Maggie. I will forward this on to my scarred sister-in-law, who I hope might feel not so alone from it…
January 15th, 2009 at 3:43 pm
stacy di says:
Thank you for helping to open up dialogue about domestic violence. I know it will help. Girls need to know that it’s okay to talk about what has happened to them…and that the longer it takes to open up about it, the more the pain will manifest itself in different ways…even subtle body language. Hugs to you.
January 15th, 2009 at 4:00 pm
V-Grrrl says:
I have helped vicitms of domestic violence, gone to court with one, gave another a place to stay for a while, listened without judgement to others.
Without judgement. That is the key. I’ve attended training sessions on recognizing and spotting signs of abuse and heard educated, smart people who should know better say the stupidest, most insensitive things. They blame the victims. They have no clue. They think any person who finds themselves being abused somehow *asks* for it.
One of the girls I helped out of an abusive relationship was a relative. It was hard for me to face that I hadn’t recogized what she was going through earlier. You look at this photo and hear the story your body language was communicating. I regret I didn’t see that in her sooner…
January 15th, 2009 at 4:09 pm
A Free Man says:
Yep, your body language says a lot in that one. I know what you mean about old diaries. Personally, I get angry at my younger self for utter cluelessness.
January 15th, 2009 at 5:28 pm
Aubrey says:
I would post, but only very, very anonymously.
I see your body language. The tilt of your head, turned so he’s not exactly on the side of your face, the denim jacket’s sleeves pulled over your hands, a half-step back and away from him, the tension in your shoulders. I wouldn’t have known it was you: but I recognized the body language right away.
I love you a bit, in a just-met, open-heart kind of way. And I am glad you are safe now. And I am glad you are planting seeds. But nothing justifies. So here is a toast in memory of the girl inside the girl there. And any comfort to be found in the thought that you will eventually heal. Though you never grow exactly like you would without that little bend, do you? I am so glad to hear every nuance of joy in your life.
And another toast to the you in one of my favorite pictures – where I think one of the girls has just run up your legs and done a flip, you laughing.
January 15th, 2009 at 6:45 pm
Suebob says:
Thanks so much for writing about this. It is when women tell the truth that the world will change.
January 15th, 2009 at 7:25 pm
Postmarc says:
Oh, god….I didn’t really expect this, and overstepping my newness, a true and deep hug from someone who cannot concieve of the pain that has caused you. To share it…courage only begins to describe hitting ‘publish’.
You may occasionally grow weary of hearing it, but thank you for allowing us into emotional places that through your words, like any catalyst, cause us to think, to emote and to effect change and take action. It is powerful stuff….
January 15th, 2009 at 8:19 pm
Zoeyjane says:
It will be fabulous, the awareness you’re going to (and already) bringing to the table. I’m happy to know you.
January 15th, 2009 at 10:17 pm
Kelley says:
I have a post like this hidden in my drafts.
<3 babe. You are doing an amazingly wonderful thing.
January 15th, 2009 at 11:15 pm
BiblioMom says:
When people think of domestic violence they tend to think of the physical side of it. Sometimes I think that verbal/emotional abuse is the silent cousin to physical abuse just as deadly and many times a stepping stone to more dangerous and deadly abuse.
January 16th, 2009 at 7:27 am
Missives From Suburbia says:
What sticks with me most is that no one really knew. I was surrounded by people but I couldn’t tell a single one, not really. I was too ashamed. Now I know that if I had only confided in someone, I would have discovered the wretched truth: that my story was anything but unique. That one in four women know it by heart.
Maggie, that might have been one of the most perfect paragraphs I’ve ever seen you write.
I have not suffered from a violent relationship, but my own scars would have been lessened so much if I’d just realized the things I was dealing with were not uncommon and I’d just confided in someone. How do we give our daughters the confidence to tell people their deepest pain?
It’s interesting, but up until now — in the effort not to be repetitive in my language — I never realized that “confide” is part of “confidence”. How appropriate.
January 16th, 2009 at 7:44 am
SlackerMom says:
Man.
My question would be…How young could I have been when it all started, that by age 7, I knew what my duties were as a little girl….?
I’ll definitely be over to read the stories that will, undoubtedly, resurface a hundred thousand memories.
January 16th, 2009 at 9:59 am
Paula Schmitt says:
I’m proud of you Maggie – you are very brave and doing such a wonderful thing…I will be there to check out your new DV blog.
Hugs to you,
Paula
January 16th, 2009 at 10:19 am
MIT Mommy says:
So, how DO we make our daughters lives better? Talk? Of course. Listen? Of course. Hope it works. My one regret in life will end up being not having given my daughter a sister. But, even sisters can only do so much.
January 16th, 2009 at 12:21 pm
XUP says:
The very first man in my life, my father, was physically abusive, only in those days it was called discipline — maybe above and beyond the call of simple discipline, but still…He died a horrible, lingering death when he was only 52 and I’ve forgiven. I believe he tried to make amends toward the end of his life. I still have very conflicted feelings about him and all men. I think it’s why I’ve never been able to make a commitment; why I’ve veered furiously away from marriage. I think I might like to write about it. It’s very confused, but it might help.
January 16th, 2009 at 3:45 pm
ilinap says:
Your writing moves me. I applauded it here: http://www.dirtandnoise.com/2009/01/writing-that-moves-me.html
I have never spoken of or written of my own experience. Perhaps now is the time.il
January 16th, 2009 at 5:44 pm
Fran says:
There is something about this topic that resonates with me. Thank you for helping make the world a better place. You are absolutely right in what you are doing, and maybe there is healing for you in the process. These demons need to be brought into the light so we can heal. I am affected and wounded by this without any scars, because 1 in 4 women that I interact with bear scars. Scars I can’t see. 25%! Of course I am affected!
Bless you, Maggie.
January 17th, 2009 at 4:50 am
Nadine says:
What a beautiful post. Thanks for sharing such an intimate story. I hope it helps women who are suffering the same.
January 17th, 2009 at 6:00 am
Dalon says:
please keep expressing yourself the way you do – I enjoy reading your blog, and although I can’t relate to some things, I love that you write – you remind me that I too can get back to my journaling – it is SO very healthy!!! express yourself! and be yourself honestly – the point ultimately is to love yourself because THAT is what your kids will see … not what you *tell* them, but what you show them … and regardless of whether or not anyone has children of their own, we are ALL teachers in this wonderful, large and scary world – show what you know to be right and good – regardless of where you have come from, it is up to you to determine where you are going
January 17th, 2009 at 1:24 pm
Dalon says:
oh, and love yourself because that is truly all we need … (not just because that’s what the kids see … sorry … got ahead of myself there)
:-s
January 17th, 2009 at 1:25 pm
jen says:
the fact that no one really knew will always stick with me, too.
i suppose we are in a club of sorts in that way. xo
January 18th, 2009 at 9:39 am
maggie says:
it’s wonderful you are doing something so positive with such a shitty experience.
January 18th, 2009 at 5:27 pm
jodifur says:
totally unrelated, I just updated my links at jodifur and linked to you.
January 18th, 2009 at 7:45 pm
ingrid says:
my mom still has that “hold it together” grin from her childhood.
it’s a different generation and she won’t talk about the things from her past. but i totally recognize what you are talking about.
thank you maggie.
January 19th, 2009 at 1:34 am
Woman in a window says:
Oh my god, look at how young you were! To think that you’d already been in love and been roughed over by it. Mind boggling, both ways. Oh, how do we protect the young? We watched some inappropriate show with my daughter this weekend, Oh, it was Buffy and there was a boyfriend who was beating on his girlfriend. The dialogue began. Don’t allow…
I wonder if this will help, this early opening to expectations? She warned me that I should save this conversation for when she’s older, when boyfriends are more relevant. I told her what’s more relevant is what to hope for oneself, what to ask the world for.
January 19th, 2009 at 8:14 am
chanda says:
Battle scars, nobody should have to live through some of the horrors we humans feel the need to inflict on each other, and yet we all have them in some form or another. I hate that you have your share of those deceptively faint, soul deep hashmarks, hate it; but I adore the person you are today, and those scars played their part.
Thank you for sharing.
January 19th, 2009 at 2:59 pm
arizaphale says:
Yup. That’s some body language. Can’t begin to imagine what you went through but amazed and impressed at your survival.
January 22nd, 2009 at 4:15 pm
tysdaddy says:
I avoided reading this post for a long time. I just couldn’t bear to face more pain from the past. You handle it subtly and with poise, but there is an undercurrent of shame that is haunting.
You are brave, my friend, and not facing all this alone anymore. I’m proud of you . . .
January 26th, 2009 at 5:10 am
The Beginning : Violence UnSilenced says:
[...] am not an expert. I am not an educator. I am not a counselor. I’m just a woman hobbled by an old experience, a journalist inspired by a story, and a blogger — and that’s when it sunk in. [...]
February 16th, 2009 at 12:16 pm
Okay, Fine, Dammit » The most important post I’ll ever write here (with a contest!) says:
[...] am not an expert. I am not an educator. I am not a counselor. I’m just a woman hobbled by an old experience, a journalist inspired by a story, and a blogger — and that’s when it sunk in. [...]
February 16th, 2009 at 1:12 pm
perksofbeingme says:
I am that girl too
April 19th, 2009 at 3:45 pm