Invisible

So Many Stories So Little Time was the working title I gave my book project. For over a decade I collected stories of people who suffered by the cruelty of others, parents, siblings, spouses, employers, neighbors, even clergy. I dragged my feet at the finish line because only a few had good closure up to the point of the telling and then I finally abandoned the project.

[Frankly I don’t think I was cut out for being a psychologist. I don’t even think staying at a Holiday Inn would help.]

When SUNOai music comp crossed my path and I began writing lyrics again. I found I could represent the essence of the stories in music.

Thus my So Many Stories Life In Lyrics project was launched.

Among the most heartbreaking tales were from those who had to survive cruel parents and/or abuse by siblings. One of the few that had closure was a family friend who spent the first decade of his life locked in his room. He had five minutes to get to school and five minutes to get home. His step father routinely beat him. By his mid thirties he was a convicted criminal and drug user.

Then, one day, he had an epiphany and realized he needed to do differently or die. He felt a distinct call to stop using drugs and to turn himself around. Then he met a girl who introduced him to Christ. He never looked back except to be a witness to others.

I also collected stories of those who grew up in what appeared outwardly to be a normal household but underneath there was at least one adult who was constantly belittling, discouraging and subjecting a child to way worse than just normal parental discipline.

Then there was the email from the young woman who had been sexually abused by her brother and cousin yet her parents refused to listen to or help her. It was excruciatingly painful to read about her early life. But she too was an overcomer.

I understood how easily abuse could shape a child to grow up as an empty shell to be completely without hope or goals. It did not escape me that those who became overcomers found their strength in a faith found outside themselves. Outside their suffering. As though the pain was a first step to a refined state of being.

I believe we have certain obligations to forgive our tormentors even if they are not repentant or asking for forgiveness. We do the forgiving to cleanse our hearts. To free us from debilitating hatred. It’s for us not them. That sounds self-centered and maybe not how most interpret ‘forgiveness’. I could quote several Scriptures that reflect on how we don’t have to be doormats. [Matthew 10:14]

I know many use the commandment to ‘honor thy father and mother’ to keep us inline but I also know this does not likely refer to parents who torture their children. Out-of-context Scripture is often a common weapon to shut down Christian apologetics.

When asked for advice about dealing with others I could only offer that I cannot let someone else’s deficits/demons hold me hostage.

I was thinking about all those stories, realizing it’s difficult to acknowledge how common this is. Who doesn’t know at least one person who has suffered from another’s abuse? What does that say about our fallen world?

I have to believe there’s a bigger picture. Life is messy. Maybe we are tested in all sorts of ways? What if the more we have to overcome the stronger we can become and therefore the more we can contribute to a higher purpose.

I felt commissioned to listen as the stories kept coming, so I assumed there was something I needed to learn.

So here’s my conclusion - the first lesson was about being willing to listen. Really paying attention to and acknowledging the pain experienced. I was told several times that just having someone let them tell their story was cathartic.

Which inspired me to write lyrics that reflect how it feels to wish you could be invisible.

But here’s the greater truth that I learned - we are each individuals with our own strengths and weaknesses. We don’t have to allow being abused to wreck us, especially by those with mental/emotional disorders, even, and especially if we are related. I’ve said before I live by the rule that some folks we have to love from a distance. And this is okay. I do recommend doing the forgiving cleanse, take a deep breath, then shake the dust off your sandals and move on.

Thus ultimately proving that the tormentor has no agency to destroy you and maybe ought to be invisible and thus ineffectual.