Memory Tangles

Memory Tangles

Memory Tangles

This image reminded me, for some reason, of a person looking ahead trying to see the light, but behind them are those cloths that swish back and forth in a car wash- trying to wipe the memories clean.

When I created this, I thought of my stepson and others who have suffered at the hands of family and parents. One of his greatest overarching fears at this time is that no one will believe him.

He is wise to understand what is at risk here. His Mom will call and tell us that Henry will lie, before he has even said a word. His sister calls us and tells us that Henry is manipulating us. Let’s remember, Henry is all of 11 years old, but the effort to build the case against him and wipe out his own sense of experience is huge and complete.

As I was reading Lucille Clifton the other day (OUTSTANDING POET!(, I came across her profound poem – “why some people be mad at me sometimes”

they ask me to remember
but they want me to remember
their memories
and I keep on remembering

Well said, Ms. Clifton, well said.

How many of those who suffer abuse can relate to these words? The desire of the abuser to wipe your own memories away, while they replace them with their own.

13 thoughts on “Memory Tangles

  1. Yes! This was such an important aspect of my healing and writing my stories in the form of memoir. I got so fed-up with my mother’s angst over having me do this, that I finally sent her the manuscript and her automatic response was to refute and correct all of my memories, line by line. I told her, do not send me your responses. These are my truths. Thank you for this post.

  2. I can relate too. It is very sad for such a young boy to stay in this kind of abuse. Does his sister start to develope same pattern as the mother, since she act like this Kimberly? I really don’t hope so.
    Your picture is perfect for this post 😀

  3. This is an example of your art that I really, really like despite having a general dislike for the style: what is going on is quite clear and made all the more so, allowing of deeper interpretation, based on the small bit you add.

    On a personal level I live this every day and it’s why I have no contact with my family and precious little with society-at-large, why I’m such an intensely solitary individual. Nothing gets better, nothing gets forgiven, if what informs the behaviour is not realised and, therefore, changeable.

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