My Mother's Mother

In the echoes of the past

A grandmother’s shadow lies

Her secrets whispered in the wind

Heard by discerning eyes

Affairs and lies

A life in shades of grey

Leaving behind a tangled web

In which we find our way

What pain drove her to such depths

To shun the light of day?

What sorrows did she carry

Which led her heart astray?

Divorce and deception

A legacy unclear

Leaving behind a fractured path

For those who follow near

Generations intertwined

A thread of hurt and sorrow

Passed down through whispered tales

Shaping our tomorrows

Where did it all begin

This cycle of despair?

And how can we break free

To show that we still care?

In the depths of asking why

We find a glimmer bright

A chance to heal the wounds

To set the past to right

Though scars may mark our souls

The future holds a key

To break the chains of trauma

And set our spirits free

So, let us learn from history

Let empathy be our guide

To med the broken pieces

To walk with grace inside

For in understanding where it started

Lies the chance to mend

And in breaking generational trauma

Our true healing can begin

Generational trauma is the new term for a family being cursed throughout generations, or generational curse. It’s not so much a curse, as it is behaviors learned from traumatic upbringings.

My grandmother was not a nice person. She lied a lot, manipulated situations, treated her children like crap, chose men over her children, had several affairs while married to my grandfather, got pregnant and had an abortion behind my grandfather’s back. Yet, her conservative views allowed her to judge others in her situation and damn them to hell for aborting their children. In fact, my mother got pregnant at 16, and my grandmother essentially forced her to have an abortion. (This is the “baby” that I was supposed to be. The baby she consistently told me she wished she’d had so that she didn’t have to end up with me. This baby’s name was also going to be 'Name Kept Private', my son’s name.) My mother did the same thing to other women, as her mother did, both having abortions themselves. Claiming it’s murder, making fun, calling names, and belittling women who choose to receive abortions. Christian hypocrisy at its best, I guess.

When I was a kid, I was up north in my home state at a popular lake destination. I was wearing a white bathing suit. One of my cousins, my grandmother and her best friend were also there. As I’m playing in the water, I notice that the three of them are laughing and pointing at me. I didn’t know why but decided to keep swimming. A few years ago, my cousin told me they were laughing because my white bathing suit was completely see through when wet. I sat there for a minute, and realized they all were laughing and pointing and never told me. They allowed me to walk and swim around an extremely populated beach, when everyone could see everything… All my body parts.

I have so many stories about my grandmother and her lies. So many that I could write an entire chapter in a book, and maybe more. So, I will do my best to split them up into one story per poem, (as there are many about her) so that each blog isn’t too much to read, as I know some of them are.

I wish that I could say the generational trauma stopped with me, but unfortunately, I learned about it too late in life, and my son has already been affected. All I can do now, is continue to learn, grow, change, and make a difference in the world, and pray to God that he doesn’t repeat the same mistakes with his own children.

#GenerationalTrauma