Screams from Childhood – Chapter 1

my mother has called from Germany to inform me
that my father—sunk into depression at sixty-eight—
was admitted to a psychiatric hospital with paranoid thoughts

my mother forbids me to inform my brother
I tell my mother that my brother has to know
he has to find out the truth from his family—not through others
he will feel abandoned and betrayed when he has to wonder
why his own family remained silent
he might believe that the family blames him
and should he accuse himself—he might feel left out and isolated
—yet my mother is adamant that I remain silent

my brother and I have become friends since both of us
live far away from Germany
for the first time I feel close to someone in my family

my brother had a serious confrontation with our father recently
to free himself from his father’s destructive control
I know that my brother has to know
I know that he is not responsible for my father’s problems
I know that my father has been running away from himself
because he never dealt with his family past or war past
therapy is taboo where I come from

I cannot hand over my brother to silence and betrayal
the moment I hang up I call my brother—I tell him the truth
that day and during the following days
we have long conversations
as we try to come to terms with this news
he feels guilty—I try to convince him that he is not–
I am sure that my father’s past has caught up with him

but I have done what my mother asked me not to do
I have contradicted her with my action
now I am in trouble
my anxiety has returned—has captured my body and mind
I also feel the responsibility for my brother
he has suffered greatly from my parents’ authoritarian practices
my mother once revealed
that she was especially hard with this brother—her oldest son—
so that he would not turn out like her own brother
who was treated as the very special oldest son, too

I have acted against my mother’s wishes
I have followed my conscience—I am so different from my mother
an abyss exists between us
I am passionate about being honest and open
I am against hiding the truth

yet my mother’s thinking torments me
should my brother hurt himself–it would be my fault
because I told him the truth—I feel blamed and declared guilty

as the familiar anxiety keeps me from sleeping
I call a therapist I have met through friends
at first I say that I need to come
because I want to help my brother
but that does not get me anywhere

finally I manage to utter—I need help—but he has no time
I fight—let me come when you have a cancellation
I convince him—and my therapeutic journey begins

© Barbara Rogers

I grew up in a big house
surrounded by a high wall
an impressive staircase led up to the entrance door
framed by two big columns
up there I could overlook the huge garden and the swimming pool
—to people on the outside I was growing up in paradise

I did not know about life outside
I was not allowed to leave this walled-in world
except for visits to my grandparents, the island in the summer
or to go to school—I was seven or eight years old
when a boy from my class came to the big gate
he rang our doorbell and wanted to play with me
I went to the gate and opened it—but I had to send him away

fascinated by life outside of the big wall
I felt sad and lonely inside
I could not make sense of anything
my sorrow and pain were shoved away
you have everything—a swimming pool—rich parents
you live in a big beautiful house with a big beautiful garden
how dare you complain—what is your problem?

I did not feel I had everything—only rarely
could I spend time with my parents
I lived far away from them
on the third floor, in a different world from theirs
where nannies took care of me

© Barbara Rogers

my anger is my lover—my anger knows the truth
my anger remembered the incest that plunged
the sixteen-year-old into a morass of confusion, anxiety, despair

I had to hide the truth from myself because the small child
had felt safe with a father who never beat her
she could not bear the truth
her father meant closeness, security, survival and joy of life to her

when my anger started to tell me about the incest
this child inside made the anger go away again and again
this young girl cried for weeks in therapy—my father loves me
my father would never do this to me
terrified she fought the truth—she believed
that she never could survive the loss
of the image of a loving father

I was not angry as a child—I was not the family rebel
on the contrary—I was the family showpiece

but the anger survived like a submarine in the depths
it waited until it was safe to surface

when it trusted me and my work in therapy and was sure that
—confronted with the truth—I would not be afraid anymore
or believe I must be crazy to remember something so awful
my anger articulated clearly—your father was irresponsible
he abused you unimaginably—he committed the crime of incest
and, I am sure, other crimes you don’t know about
what did he do in the war?
he was capable of lying to everyone
he continued his life as if nothing had happened

but the child who trusted and loved her father needs time
to mourn the loss of her idol—every therapy session helps her

with time my anger is liberated to be a seeker of truth
and becomes my engaged mentor

after I listen to her and comfort her patiently
the child can let go of her illusions
and evolves as a treasured part of my aliveness and love of life
now the anger can tell the truth
about the incest and other childhood abuses

banned from my inner world and emotional repertoire
my anger appeared at first like a dark and monstrous giant
who caused overwhelming fear
among other identities who lived inside of me
—the ones who tried to please and clung to illusions—
they had been running the human being named Barbara
they were terrified to recognize reality

slowly my anger reveals the truth until I can live with the facts
it helps me confront old pain inside—it welcomes my true Self

my anger becomes my lover who wears colorful, exotic clothes
who wants me to be true to my Self and speak my truth
this lover gives me the strength to say no and create boundaries

this lover teaches me that I never was bad or wrong
never an evil or worthless child—but informs me of the truth
that the people into whose care the child’s life was entrusted
hurt me through evil attitudes and actions
through inhuman methods of treating children

my lover supports me to dare to venture into life
and to walk proudly and freely
my lover encourages me to make my dreams come true

secretly and quietly, behind the scenes, never in loud ways
this lover has guided my life most amazingly

© Barbara Rogers

I did not want to know about the hell of fear and pain the nightmares of loneliness and confusion inside me

unconscious truth continued its work of destruction
because I was not supposed to voice my screams

hidden away like a shameful original sin
they had to remain underground deep inside
horrors of childhood
passed on from generation to generation

as I studied the dark night of my childhood
I have learned to see truthfully

I have come to realize that my screams are not crimes
but most precious messengers of a buried past

the screams reveal the emotional reality of my childhood
they show me the truth of the powerless child
they reveal her total dependency
they paint, with words and feelings, the child’s ordeal

the screams become my truth
provided by life and nature to save a soul

voicing my screams is my key to freedom and life
voicing the screams that could never live
and were never heard
becomes my way out

© Barbara Rogers