The Girl Behind The Curtain

It is around 8pm, bed time for the girl who is maybe 7 or 8 years in age. On other nights this would be the time to secretly read one of her beloved books with a flashlight under her blanket. The girl is a bookworm, much more into reading than into sports. She usually reads books, that are not necessarily appropriate for her age. But the way she is living isn’t either. In so many ways. This, however, was not one of these more joyful reading nights. Instead of comfortably lying in her bed, the girl would be up in her dark bedroom. Standing at her window, partly hiding behind the curtains.

The curtains were a dark brown, not that that actually matters. Just another useless memory. The girl is in her night gown because she really does not like her pajamas. She is barefoot, but that she is shivering has probably not much to do with her being cold. It’s excitement, but not the good kind. Not the kind she felt when she was given her rollerblades for her birthday. Or when her grandparents paid for her riding lessons. No, definitely not that kind of excitement.

What is she doing at her window in the middle of the evening you are asking? She is waiting. Lurking through the small split between the curtains. She would not allow herself to put her entire head through to see more comfortably. It’s getting dark already and she can’t risk getting caught in the headlights of the car. Her dad’s car. The family is living just outside the village limits and there are not many houses around. A very straight street is leading up to the girl’s grandparents house. Her bedroom window on the second floor is conveniently facing that street. It’s good. She can see every approaching car from far.

The girl is tiny at the time. When she was born, everyone thought she would maybe not make it. So there she is standing on her tiny feet. Appearing even more small, than she actually is. Not to worry. Puberty and seeking comfort in food and sweets will take care of that and the tiny girl will be overweight from that time for most of her adulthood. And of course, bullying will come with that, too. But that will happen much later. Tonight, she is standing small(ish) behind the brown curtains. Cold and alone.

Tonight, her dad left after dinner to go to the local pub in the village. There is only two of them in this very small village. He is not welcome in one of them, so she knows exactly where he is. And what he is doing there, too. There he is. A car just crossed the Interstate and it’s clearly her parents car. No thought is wasted, at the time, that he probably should not be driving this car. She’s been in the car with him in similar situations, but it never crossed her mind.

Her heart is now racing. She is starring at the headlights much like a deer caught in these lights, unable to move. Oh, but she will move eventually. She has to go back to bed. And pray. Yes, at that time she did still pray to a God her grandmother has taught her everything about. And to Jesus, too.

She is praying, that there will be no fight tonight. That her dad will just pass out and fall asleep. And that her Mom will not provoke a fight either, she has done that before. It did not end well. Now the little girl can hear the door and her father’s steps on the stairs. These old stairs that no one would be able to sneak up on as their creaking will give you away. It’s time now. Time to crawl a little deeper under the blanket and pretend she is sleeping. Holding her breath as long as she can. Wondering what would happen next. No. Afraid of what could happen next.

She remembers the one time, when the fight was so bad, that her grandma used her cane to hit the banister to make it stop. She was too immobile to make it up the stairs, though. Not this night. This night her dad just fell asleep. Her Mom just ignored him and the girl fell into a very light sleep. Able to easily wake up and react. Because, you never know.

Years later, the girl was much older, she would end one of those fights herself. She would run into the kitchen, grab two very large knifes and, pulling together all her courage, open the bedroom door. Her parents stopped fighting as they watched her enter. Stunned and surprised. She took the knifes and smashed them onto their sideboard. She screamed at them from the top of her lungs to just please kill themselves so they could all be over with it. And then she stormed out of the bedroom. Surprised and shocked at her own courage. And stupidity. What if her Dad would come after her?

No one was stabbed that night and her dad also did not come after her. They just slept and the matter was never talked about. To this date it wasn’t. Her dad actually never came after her, but the little girl could not know that he wouldn’t. Because, what she would only understand so much later was, that she was too strong. The girl was too strong and to smart for her father to touch her physically. He had too much respect. He was so intimidated by her strength, that he would say very mean things to her when he was drunk. But that was all just talking her down because he was scared of her smarts. The girl did not know that either. At the time at least she didn’t.

There would be many more nights like that. Some worse and some better. It comes with the unpredictability of living in a home ruled by addiction. Eventually this girl became an adult and moved out. But it would be many more years until she would actually grow out of being the girl behind the curtain. The girl that is always on high alert and having her guards up. Most importantly, the girl that is paralyzed by her past.

That girl behind the curtain was me.

And I recently walked down memory lane to talk about my kind of success. That walk led me back behind this curtain and what I was seeing made me sad and hopeful at the same time. Sad, because there was a brief moment of grieving the lost time and childhood. And hopeful, because that girl has come a long way to the place where this successful woman is today. There is also some real excitement here, because this girl’s journey has been able to inspire others. That is definitely more, than the girl behind the curtain would have ever hoped for!

Today I would thank that girl for her bravery. She could not change what was happening, but she surely changed the impact on herself by avoiding to get surprised whenever she could. She taught me, how to take control and ownership of my attitude. It took me a while to understand the strength she started building, but I got there, thanks to her. And taking ownership of my life has always been with me and got me to the point I am at today. A successful woman. A woman that learned she could overcome anything that was thrown at her and that would never give up. Because giving up would mean letting that girl behind the curtain down after all.

I would love to tell her: “you are so strong, Honey. That’s why it is not you that is being hit. That’s why all that is said to you, just drives you to become better, smarter, more knowledgeable and yes, even more in control.” And maybe this post is me doing exactly that? Maybe.

But, as always, there is another side to this story. A side I would soon discover through my journey of failing myself to success. My journey of self-care. This girl started the process of building resiliency. So much so, that the woman I am today can call herself very resilient. The girl took back control by standing her ground behind the curtain and refusing to “let things happen to her”. She knew fights could get bad, but she went through these situations on her own terms.

The flipside? That girl behind the curtain is still a part of the woman I am today. And that girl just can’t let go of control. At least not easily. Starting with minor things like not being able to 100% relax, when getting a deep tissue massage. Many massage therapists have tried to actually get me to relax my muscles, but letting my guard down? Not an option. To a point where I gave up getting massages altogether, as there is no sense in massaging muscles that remain tense in the process.

So, how come I can write such vulnerable posts? Posts that go so deep, that by writing them I am clearly having to take my guards down. And am exposing my very personal story to the judgmental eyes of the world? A very good question indeed. And a tough one, too. This is likely the toughest post for someone to write and not feel vulnerable. Out of control, not knowing what the world will do with the information. So how am I doing it and yet am not feeling out of control or exposed at all?

The answer is, I am separating myself from the story. I am a story teller and this is a story I am telling. A story to show others the hopefulness in hopeless situations. It is not about me, when I am writing this. This is a writer creating their art. And art does not pose any threat to that girl behind the curtain. That is, how I am doing it.

I hope your take-away is one of hope and encouragement. No matter the dark places we have been, there is a way out from behind that curtain. We just need to own it, to take that sometimes difficult first step. The rest will fall into place – eventually.

If you, or someone you love, is suffering from addiction, get them help. Especially if children are involved. The impact on their lives is tremendous and you might not even be able to see the tip of the iceberg. Help can be for example found here.

And if you would like to read more about this girl’s success story, you can find the blog post inspiring this story here.

Take care,

Nannette