“There was a certain rich man who was clothed in purple and fine linen and fared sumptuously every day. But there was a certain beggar named Lazarus, full of sores, who was laid at his gate, desiring to be fed with the crumbs which fell from the rich man’s table. Moreover the dogs came and licked his sores. So it was that the beggar died, and was carried by the angels to Abraham’s bosom. The rich man also died and was buried.
It feels like as time passes you get clearer on why you’re not speaking to your family. So damn proud of you. It reminds me of John Legend saying it wasn’t brave of him to speak out against R Kelly in Muting R Kelly because John doesn’t support a serial child rapist and he believes all the Black women and girls who survived Kelly’s abuse and fuck R Kelly. Time is gonna show that your bravery is right. You’ll be seen as heroic. You already are by all those silent on the sidelines who felt invisible and that they don’t matter. I’m sure having Grace able to articulate the dumb fuckery of your father covering for a pedophile has also helped strengthen your voice. Please know how loved you are. And I fully support you never talking to your family of origin ever again. #TeamDannyForLife 💓
1) I would like to state just how much I love this.
2) One of the things it took me a long time to realise on my own journey (having been ex-evangelised or de-churched by people who were not necessarily great human beings) is that *even* if the people who hurt us wanted to repent, we would still have no obligation to meet them half way. They can repent in their own quiet place and do the emotional leg-work of becoming a better person themselves.
It's strange, but I woke up this morning with the story of Lazarus and the rich man in my head as well. Only my version went, "And because there was a poor man on his doorstep, the rich man's friends in the HOA had him removed from the premises, for they could not bear to look upon his sores..."
My heart goes out to you in this time, dealing with memories of Easters past.
Abraham’s Bosom *would* be a really excellent gay bar and in the world where people still congregate in groups, that bar (whose name on Twitter would be AbraFab) would throw tremendous Easter parties.
The bravery it took for you to cross that gulf in the first place and make them do the work to cross it themselves is inspiring. While no one in my family did something like what your father did, I have always found myself leaving no-work/growth trap doors and warp portals for them to cross the gulf I set to create when I need distance and the gulf serves no purpose.
Thank you for sharing your anger. It’s difficult to express what it means to me without dipping into the grotesqueries of finding personal utility in someone else’s pain. My experience is ice chips to icebergs, scraped across decades of open family secrets. Many of the people involved are now dead. I wasn’t the victim, I was the child pawn passed back and forth in the toxic fallout after the whistleblower was disowned. The conditioning from the experience often makes me feel stupid, irrational, selfish in my anger, especially when the full horror landed on me so long after the fact. You didn’t have to share, but you did and I am very, very grateful for it. It reminds me why.
OH! Oh. The grief of ENORMOUS betrayal by people who are supposed to love you most. And also supposed to protect the lambs and be avoiding the millstones around the neck. I am so so so sorry for your betrayal, and for the added pain of empathy for so many others betrayed. You are strong and brave and amazing and I love you more with every word of yours that I read. Thank you for staying true.
I've been thinking about this magnificent post all week. I admire your unusual courage and clarity of mind. I know too well that it can take years to come fully out of denial about abusive and abuse-enabling parents whom we also loved.
I hope social distancing ends soon because I want to buy you and Grace a (non-alcoholic) drink at "Abraham's Bosom". (The only reason my husband occasionally comes to church with me is to find new hymns that have "bosom" in them for parody material.)
I love you with all my heart and body and mind and you are better than Dan Levy.
It feels like as time passes you get clearer on why you’re not speaking to your family. So damn proud of you. It reminds me of John Legend saying it wasn’t brave of him to speak out against R Kelly in Muting R Kelly because John doesn’t support a serial child rapist and he believes all the Black women and girls who survived Kelly’s abuse and fuck R Kelly. Time is gonna show that your bravery is right. You’ll be seen as heroic. You already are by all those silent on the sidelines who felt invisible and that they don’t matter. I’m sure having Grace able to articulate the dumb fuckery of your father covering for a pedophile has also helped strengthen your voice. Please know how loved you are. And I fully support you never talking to your family of origin ever again. #TeamDannyForLife 💓
1) I would like to state just how much I love this.
2) One of the things it took me a long time to realise on my own journey (having been ex-evangelised or de-churched by people who were not necessarily great human beings) is that *even* if the people who hurt us wanted to repent, we would still have no obligation to meet them half way. They can repent in their own quiet place and do the emotional leg-work of becoming a better person themselves.
3) Your anger seems good and proper.
4) Please open that bar, it sounds excellent.
It's strange, but I woke up this morning with the story of Lazarus and the rich man in my head as well. Only my version went, "And because there was a poor man on his doorstep, the rich man's friends in the HOA had him removed from the premises, for they could not bear to look upon his sores..."
My heart goes out to you in this time, dealing with memories of Easters past.
Abraham’s Bosom *would* be a really excellent gay bar and in the world where people still congregate in groups, that bar (whose name on Twitter would be AbraFab) would throw tremendous Easter parties.
I'm so encouraged to see your strength and creation in your life. Thank you for sharing with us.
The bravery it took for you to cross that gulf in the first place and make them do the work to cross it themselves is inspiring. While no one in my family did something like what your father did, I have always found myself leaving no-work/growth trap doors and warp portals for them to cross the gulf I set to create when I need distance and the gulf serves no purpose.
Thank you for sharing your anger. It’s difficult to express what it means to me without dipping into the grotesqueries of finding personal utility in someone else’s pain. My experience is ice chips to icebergs, scraped across decades of open family secrets. Many of the people involved are now dead. I wasn’t the victim, I was the child pawn passed back and forth in the toxic fallout after the whistleblower was disowned. The conditioning from the experience often makes me feel stupid, irrational, selfish in my anger, especially when the full horror landed on me so long after the fact. You didn’t have to share, but you did and I am very, very grateful for it. It reminds me why.
Fuck that shit forever I am never going back
Oooofff, I’m sorry! You’re doing all the right things. ❤️
OH! Oh. The grief of ENORMOUS betrayal by people who are supposed to love you most. And also supposed to protect the lambs and be avoiding the millstones around the neck. I am so so so sorry for your betrayal, and for the added pain of empathy for so many others betrayed. You are strong and brave and amazing and I love you more with every word of yours that I read. Thank you for staying true.
I've been thinking about this magnificent post all week. I admire your unusual courage and clarity of mind. I know too well that it can take years to come fully out of denial about abusive and abuse-enabling parents whom we also loved.
I hope social distancing ends soon because I want to buy you and Grace a (non-alcoholic) drink at "Abraham's Bosom". (The only reason my husband occasionally comes to church with me is to find new hymns that have "bosom" in them for parody material.)