Sticks and stones may break my bones....but words do hurt.

Every Thursday I go to a memoirs writing class.  Each of us have a story within us.  Sometimes the stories are happy or sometimes they are sad.  I have been writing about my recent marriage and other memories.  Sometimes we just need to let it all out, whether we write in a journal, as a story, or face to face with a friend or loved one. It is then we can start to finally heal.

I am the youngest person in the class.  Most of my classmates are 20 or more years my senior, and yet, I feel very comfortable amongst them. Any one of the men and women could be my mother or father. It is amazing to me how things that were either said or done to us can leave a lasting mark on our lives, even if it happened 60 years before. The memory of it continues to linger in the back of our minds. When the memory comes back to the surface there is rage and many times tears.

I sat next to a woman yesterday who had such a traumatic experience in Catholic school by a nun that she still finds it hard to talk about.  Her 5th grade teacher was a nun and made her life miserable.  From the time she arrived in the class until the end of the year the girl's life was one traumatic event after another.  The nun would shame the girl into thinking that she was worthless and the children whose father's made more money was better than she was and it was best that she not communicate with them. Those words spoken to her stuck in her mind all of these years.  Tears started flowing before my classmate began reading her story. I wanted so badly to hold her in my arms and comfort her. Often we hear stories about adults traumatizing children and literally making their lives hell.  These poor innocent souls are placed in the care of adults who can either make or break our spirit.  Her spirit is still broken.  No child deserves to be mistreated.  All they want is love and acceptance, and maybe some candy too. 

Do you have any memories that bring you pain?  I know that I do.