It all came back to me like it was yesterday.
I could smell the exhaust fumes from my dad’s old Datsun.
The heat and humidity swirled around the car and fell on me like a weighted blanket. The wind from the open window pushed the cigarette smoke right into my face.
The sensory overload made my stomach churn until the bile burned in my throat and made me gag.
Sweat poured down my forehead as I gripped the wobbly door handle like my life depended on it.
But words continued to fail me.
It was like my body said, “you can think about it, and feel it, but you can’t talk abut it.”
Guided hypnosis.
This is what my angel of a therapist suggested.
I agreed and this is where we’re at.
Anything to get the trauma out of my body.
How does hypnosis work?
How hypnosis works isn’t completely understood. However, it’s commonly believed that in the deep state of focus and relaxation that’s achieved with hypnosis:
Your conscious mind is quieted.
You’re able to tap into the part of your brain where your thoughts, beliefs, perceptions, sensations, emotions, memory and behaviors originate.
In this state, you’re more open to gentle guidance from your hypnotherapist to help you modify or replace the unconscious thoughts that are driving your current behavior. Source
I’m back at the apartment with the orange and brown interior.
My mom ordered pizza and my dad wanted me to go with him to pick him up. This was unusual.
When I saw his face I knew that saying I didn’t want to go was not an option.
As the heat and the fumes engulfed me, my dad said that he had something to tell me.
I was expecting some good news since my birthday was coming up.
“You have a sister,” he said.
“No, I don’t. I only have a brother. What are you talking about?”
“I was with someone that wasn’t your mom and she got pregnant. Your sister is eight years old.”
The man that I worshipped, put on a pedestal, and adored, cheated on my mother.
“I hate him,” I say to my therapist.
I try to ask my dad questions about the woman he had the affair with but he doesn’t want to talk about it.
We arrive at the pizza place and like a zombie, I walk in, pay for the pizza, and bring it out to the car.
“So you ordered pizza just so you could tell me you cheated on Mom?” I ask.
“Kim…” he says.
“And since when can we afford pizza?” I yell at him.
“I want you to meet her,” my dad says.
“What? Are you kidding me? I want to throw up. I can’t believe this is real.” I yell.
As we head home in the old Datsun, the pizza box is burning my legs but I don’t care. I want to feel the pain.
When we get back to our apartment by the railroad tracks, I run upstairs and hand my mom the pizza.
“I have a sister?” I yell.
“Your dad told you?” my mom says.
I want to throw up. I want to trash the pizza and the brown and yellow apartment with the cigarette smoke stained walls.
I want to run somewhere but I can’t. I’m trapped.
I go into my room and shut the door. I lock it and my dad bangs on the door.
“Leave me alone!” I yell. “I don’t want to talk to you!”
As I calm myself on the bed, a surge of memories breaks through.
“You’re safe, Kim. If you want to explore those memories, you can. I’m here with you.” my therapist says.
Her soothing voice takes me back to the time my parents were always arguing.
I go back to the time when my dad takes me to his office on a Saturday where he says he needs to see a client.
The client is a woman who seems friendly with my dad. They head into the office but my dad says I have to stay outside. I can’t even wait in the waiting room.
For two hours, I’m a teenager wandering the parking lot.
I know that something isn’t right but I trust there’s a reason I’m out here.
When they finally emerge, they embrace and kiss but they don’t see me.
As my dad walks towards me, he says, “Don’t ask me anything, and don’t tell your mother anything.”
We head back home and I realize what’s going on.
But I can’t tell my mom.
Not even when my dad doesn’t come home at night.
Not even when my dad comes home smelling like perfume.
Not even when he takes me over to “her” house.
As I come out of the guided hynosis, an epiphany hits me.
My dad has unknowingly taught me that men can’t be trusted.
My dad has taught me that it’s okay to be deceitful, disrespectful to loved ones, and a hypocrite.
I was wrong to put my dad on a pedestal. I was wrong to think that he hung the moon and the sun. I was wrong to think that he was a good, Christian man.
Yes, my dad was human but if a girl can’t trust her father, who can she trust?
It’s devastating to lose faith in someone you hold so dear. It’s devastating to lose faith in men before you’ve even had a chance to start adult relationships.
Mostly, it’s devastating to lose faith in yourself.
It took me twenty years to get it back.
So what’s the proper way to break difficult news to your child/teen?
Have a one on one with them in their everyday environment. Don’t go somewhere special. Don’t do something out of the ordinary (like take your child shopping, go to a big fancy restaurant, etc.,). To this day, I get sick to my stomach whenever I drive by that pizza chain from my childhood.
Break the news to your child in an age appropriate way. Don’t provide unnecessary details or information that’s above their maturity level.
Validate their feelings. Say things like, “I hear you” “I know you’re disappointed” “I can see that you’re sad” Don’t make it about you.
Answer questions. My dad dropped a bombshell on me and then wouldn’t answer questions. Don’t do that. Not only is it dysfunctional but it makes your child less likely to come to you in the future when he/she has questions.
Follow-up. Let your child know that if they have questions, want to talk about their feelings, or want to vent, they can come to you anytime. Be available.
Reaffirm your love for them. Explain that no matter what, you love them and that the difficult news will not change that.
Lead by example and model healthy coping behaviors, such as self-care. After the sister bombshell, my dad tried to smooth everything over by letting me stay out late, giving me spending money, and doing things with me that he’d been promising for months. Don’t do this. Your kid will see straight through this, as I did. Plus, it’s a setup for emotional manipulation as the child knows you’re feeling guilty. Maintain those boundaries.
Don’t be afraid to seek out professional guidance if your child continues to struggle. Early intervention is the best intervention.
“Sometimes, you have to look back in order to understand the things that lie ahead.”
―Yvonne Woon,Dead Beautiful
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