Missing Ignorance

I saw this post card tonight on this week's Post Secret blog. It struck me because it accurately reflects a sentiment that I have often felt.

I was in ninth grade when I began to learn some things about my family. Things that, while not necessarily carefully concealed are definitely not talked about. I can still describe for you the exact moment my mom told me some of those things - the location, the reason we were having a conversation that led to this in the first place.

Since then, the things I know about my family have gotten harder. I know more, and I suppose I should. I'm not 14 anymore.

But here's the thing. Some days I miss ignorance. I wish I couldn't usually pick out the abused woman in the room before she ever shares that part of her life, because I'm intimately aquainted with the signs. I wish I didn't know quite a few other things too.

These last weeks have been pretty rough at home. Part of the reason that I have again been quiet here and intensely introspective. One of my immediate family members suffers from Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, and our family lived through a bit of a relaspe last week. I have wrestled with hatred for the abuser who began this thing so many many years ago. I have wrestled with guilt for resenting the added load of housework and responsibility the relapse created with me. I have struggled with the intense spiritual climate in our home as my family member battled back. I have struggled with anger against the other family members who don't bear more of the burden of these relapses. It has been difficult.

I've been exhausted, and I can't explain why to most people. I go to work with a semi-functional brain and an exhausted body and I can't come right out and say that I'm exhausted because my family member has PTSD. It's not my story to tell. It's part of the code of silence. And I hate that their silence infringes on my communication. And I hate that I resent something like PTSD when it can't be controlled and the decisions that caused it were made by a warped and twisted man many years ago. And so I miss ignorance. And I wonder about that fourteen year old that I was... And I wonder if I would protect her longer, or if knowledge really has been a healthier thing, and it wouldn't really have been protection.

Pray for my family if you think of it. We're fighting on. And it's long and hard. I'm tired and stressed. We could use some peace, some rest, some restoration.