There is a turkey…in my bathtub…as I write this. Adam has a turkey fryer that he is going to use to deep fry our Thanksgiving turkey, tomorrow. The turkey has to be completely thawed, or else things can go bad, real quick. The oil would splatter, possibly even explode. We don’t want that! So, there’s a turkey thawing in my bathtub.
When Adam and I were in the shower, last night, the topic of “earliest memories” came up. I started to tell him about, what I believe, is my earliest memory. It was my third birthday. My brother and I were playing, and I ran into the dining room. My mother was wrapping a present. It was one of those little magnetic chalkboard toys, with all the magnetic letters and shapes. It had a drawer in it, where the chalk and letters could be stored. It isn’t the gift that makes it such a significant memory, though. My mom was nice to me. I remember she talked to me in a sweet, gentle voice. She smiled. She wasn’t angry. That came as such a surprise to me, even at that age, it became a memory I held onto forever. Then, I casually started to talk to Adam about some other random childhood things. My dad wasn’t home as much, when I was little. I have no memories of ever having my mom take me to bed, tuck me in, kiss or hug me goodnight. I assume, she must’ve, when I was tiny? I just know that I didn’t grow up being told goodnight. I took myself to bed. My dad was always loving, affectionate, kind. I hadn’t ever stopped to wonder why that seemed to stop. As I talked about these things, with Adam, I realized, it was because it made my mother angry, when my dad showed me affection. I learned to avoid snuggling him. I would tense up and freeze, when he’d hug me or play with my hair. I’ve carried a lot of guilt about those things. I didn’t know why I’d shut him out the way I had, until it dawned on me, because I didn’t want to make my mother angry. I would see my sister sitting in his lap, riding with him to run errands, getting all the affection I refused from him. I’d feel sad and a little jealous, sometimes. I blamed myself, though. It wasn’t until I got older and moved out, my dad and I formed a relationship that was independent of my mother, and her watchful eyes.
I was processing all of this information, all of these thoughts and memories, while I talked to Adam. I wasn’t upset. I wasn’t crying. Truthfully, I was just “matter of fact”, about it all. I’ve never shared those things with Adam. Hell, I hadn’t even known some of it, until I took the time to consider it, last night. Adam got so quiet. He looked very sad, almost angry even. I stopped talking, then. We silently finished our shower. I turned the water off, and before I could step out, Adam pulled me into his arms. He told me “I will never be mean to you. I will always tell you goodnight.” He had the saddest look in his eyes. I’m not sure whether it’s a good idea to just toss out information like that again? I felt sorry that I’d upset Adam. I don’t know if I’m numb, over it, or maybe I pushed it back down into that deep place inside me where I usually store things like I told Adam? I don’t feel sad today, though. I’m good! I’m doing my best to make sure that Adam can see that.
4 thoughts on “Interesting Things in the Shower”
These little revelations about the past- memories, truths we discover- are so odd and volatile. Sometimes they bring peace, and other times, unexpectedly, they seem to rock the foundations of reality. At least, it can be that way for me at times.
I wonder, if you dig deep, why your gut reaction to having shared with Adam was uncertainty. (Is that a good word for it? You don’t seem to regret it, exactly.)
Maybe Adam’s reaction made you vulnerable? He showed emotion, concern, distress perhaps… all his emotions acknowledge a wound you’ve kept hidden. In your writing, his response contrasts with your matter-of-factness. It’s like a real physical wound. If you hide it and avoid it, it might throb dully, but if someone sees it and touches it and starts trying to take care of it, it hurts…
The past hurts you more than it hurts him. It’s okay to share it. It’s okay to feel the uncertainty when his response touches a little close to your wounds. It’ll be okay if he sees just how ugly the wounds are and how much they hurt you, too. You guys can walk through it together, now.
Have compassion for that little girl. She needed her mama to love her all the time. Hold that girl in your heart and grieve for her because she suffered.
I grieve my dad. I grieve because I have memories like yours, good memories, and why couldn’t he have been that way always? I want my dad, the dad that sang songs to me when I was two and a half and smiled and me and played with me just because he loved me.
You’ve been through far deeper trauma than I have… my words are all speculation and not worth much.
I admire and respect you and I learn from you and your posts. I am thankful for your insights. God bless you. ❤️
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You write the most insightful, amazing comments! I hadn’t even thought about things that way, until I read your comment here. I really appreciate the light you shine on things for me sometimes!
Eve, an awesome post, sharing those feeling with Adam, lets him understand more of you and why you are the way you are. Sometimes growing up, we hid our feelings. it is good to get then out in the open, then you can move on with Adam beside you, loving and caring for you. God Bless you, Adam and your family this Thanksgiving Day! Sir 🙂
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You as well, Sir! Happy Thanksgiving!