Goodbye, Guilt.

Home is supposed to be a place of serenity, a place to relax, a place to be yourself and unwind. What if home is not that? What if you are terrified to go home? Where does one find the time and place to let the mind heal?

I had a childhood like this. My mother was mentally and physically abusive. I can remember racing the mail home in the afternoons so that I could tear up the letter from the school saying I needed glasses. I was literally terrified to know what I would have to face when my mom had to spend money on me so I could see clearly in class. I remember getting hit in the back of the head with an iron skillet for "mouthing off", or so my mom said at the time. Really, I just answered her question with a bit of exasperation in my voice. I was a teenager, that is what teens do, right? There are many other things that I remember my mother doing that I was confused about, hated, and learnt to hate her for. I have let that go, for the most part, even if I still have nightmares of it. I fear turning into her.

In America though, we can talk. We can tell people our woes without fear. We have some reserves about it. For instance, I told my grandmother, who then begged me not to tell the cops for "it would break up the family". I don't know if it is the same everywhere though. Our neighbours below us scream, fight and throw things sometimes. It brings back all the dread I had when it happened to me. I can put my headphones on and go for a walk. Can they? How do the Chinese people deal with the war going on inside their place of serenity?

One of my students told me that he grew up in a house like that. We talk often about the times we had so we can heal even now. He said his dad was the abusive one. He drank until drunk, came home, and beat his mother. It was when he started in on the kids that she left him. Then, social stigma hits. She didn't want her kids to be without a father. Apparently in China it is shameful to stand up for yourself, even if it means saving your life from an abusive situation. She went back to him. He stopped drinking, got a low level job doing construction work, while she is a farmer. My student tells me things are better now, but sometimes he still shakes from fear while remembering his childhood.

I want to reach out to all the people out there with abuse. I want to hug them all and tell them I understand on some level what they are going though at all points of an abuse. It never seems to go away. But, today I want to say goodbye to my guilt. I know it was not me. I know I did not cause the anger, the sudden outbreaks, or the irrational hatred my mother had for me. I hope one day the victims of abuse learn to see their true value instead of the one that the abuser placed on them. I know my student has in the semester since I've known him.