Bent and broken

Have you ever seen the tops of some evergreen trees, the ones whose tips have bent because of high winds, but the tree continued to grow? Their crowns turned at right angles to otherwise straight trunks? These trees do not die from the strong winds that urge them to, but neither are they able to continue holding themselves completely erect. The thinnest, most vulnerable parts crack and allow themselves bent to the will of the wind, a sacrifice to appease the violent force that opposes them. The tree survives but is forever altered.

In a similar way, abused children often have to break a little in order to survive. You will notice I did not say bend, but break. Bending would assume there is a flexibility, an adaptability that implies perhaps cooperation or choice or manipulation or even agreement to behave in a way contrary to their nature but necessary. Bending is a child lying to their mother to avoid punishment or learning to be quiet so as not to anger an intoxicated father. Bending is an adaptability that leaves the core unbroken, that leaves room for the original mind or body to still be itself. Breaking changes the core structure in some way. And though they bent, like the tallest trees on the windswept plains, the sisters also broke. Being healthy and unbroken was not an option.

Jade lost her self-worth, self-esteem and other basic senses of self. She allowed her mother's words to program her. She believed by the time she was an adolescent that she would never be worthy of love, never accomplish anything of value, that she was solely responsible for the ills of the world. Her empathy became a curse. She felt too deeply the pain and insanity around her, the anger in the crowds shopping at Christmas, her teacher's disappointment and boredom, her mother's depression. She was unable to differentiate which emotions were other's and which belonged to her alone.

Heather broke in a different way. Her survival required her to control and repress her emotions. Her heart narrowed, having been so thoroughly abused it was like an overstimulated patch of skin that became numb. She had no tolerance for suffering, her own nor anyone else's. Not accepting that she was the trash the kids at the Christian school told her she was, she became a chameleon and learned to be like them.

She liked the attention she got from making her peers laugh when she was mean to someone. Reveling in this acceptance, she embraced her role as bully. She flourished in chaos and gave off a fuck your feelings vibe decades before it was trending. She was completely in touch with desire, anger, even happiness, but only as they pertained to her.

Heather loved Jade, but also hated her for her weakness. She hated that her sister cried. Hated that her sister felt so much pain. That she was always serious, upset, defeated. It was because of a twisted sense of loyalty and love that Heather hated her so much. Heather was usually able to detach from the pain of others. But seeing her sister upset caused her to be upset, which manifested as anger and disgust.

Becoming callousedwas necessary in order to put one foot in front of the other and navigate thewaters of her life. Her armor helped to avoid drowning in the whirlpools thatwere her mother's rage, to avoid the rapids that were the judgements of peers,to steer clear of the jagged rocks that were the illusions and delusions ofwhat parts of the world were safe, and which were not. For example - policemenwere not safe, but preachers were. Strange men were not, but mother'sboyfriends were. Tell mother the truth but lie to father. Take the Lord's namein vain but pray. Wear dirty underwear, but always wash your hands. Always washyour hands.