Something About Nothing by Julie Seedorf

The 1960s seemed like an idyllic time to live in a small southern Minnesota town. One of the quirks of residing in a small town was the fact everyone knew what you are doing, sometime before you did. Neighbors helped out neighbors and Main Street looked like the fictional town of Mayberry USA.

This might be the way some of us remember the good old times of the past. But for others, their small town life held secrets. Maybe the secrets weren’t so hidden but residents, who suspected all was not Aunt Bea perfect, possibly chose to ignore what might be happening next door because they didn’t know what to do or they didn’t want to interfere and have the aggression directed at them.

Crystal — not her real name because she doesn’t want to bring attention to her family members who might still be having trouble remembering their childhood — remembers her anxiety starting as young as 4 or 5. Her dad was a drinker and a fighter. Not only did she witness the abuse, she also was left at times to wipe up the blood on the floor afterwards from the injuries of those involved.

Her mother took the brunt of the abuse. Her brother stepped in sometime to intercept a beating her father was giving her mother. “We always tried to protect our mother. We were afraid he would kill her. The next day my father would behave as if nothing happened.” Crystal added that her stomach still ached the next day because she couldn’t wipe out the memory of the night before. Her mother would always tell them her dad was sorry and he wouldn’t do it again, but he did.

They didn’t have a phone because it had been ripped out of the wall. Crystal remembers one night running to a neighbor to get help because her mother had been knocked down and was bleeding from the head.

“I felt so helpless,” she said.

Crystal added, “One friend of my mother’s knew and urged us to leave before we would be killed. The relatives that knew didn’t want to get involved.”  Crystal doesn’t know if her teachers were aware of the situation, but if they did they chose to not report it. When the police were called, according to Crystal, they didn’t do anything when they found out either. They would just get her dad to calm down,and they would leave.

Crystal has blocked out many memories of her youth and she still battles with anxiety because of her trauma.  When she was 14, her mom and brothers and sisters left in the middle of the night with nothing but the clothes on their backs. Today, Crystal lives with her memories but she is leading a happy life. She said she believes her father was a good man, but he had demons driving him because of the alcohol.  He had a disease, and he didn’t want to use the tools available to change. And society wasn’t set up to help them out of their situation.

This is one story from small-town Minnesota in the ’60s. It didn’t get broadcast on the internet. It didn’t make the papers. Few people knew because of the shame, and those who did maybe whispered in tiny circles.

Another survivor of domestic abuse in the earlier days was going to tell her story here. After years of counseling and getting out of the abusive situation, she decided at the last moment she couldn’t relive that time. She didn’t want to go backward. She only wants to move forward. These stories took place 30 to 40 years ago, and yet, for the victims, they still live with the remnants every day.

A friend I met in my adulthood lives with the fact he floored his father one night when his father was beating his mother. Imagine living with the idea that you actually had to get physical with your dad to save your mom. The upside of that story is that the father never hit the mother again at least when the son was around. It took violence to stop the violence. They knew no other way.

I am learning so much from these survivors. It has opened conversations with my readers who are learning, too, and who are feeling their own story might be significant enough to reach out and get help. Because the world is openly talking about abuse that is happening today, it frees those who are still living with memories of the past that they have kept hidden to know it was happening to others in Mayberry. Some of the women above grew up to live happy, productive lives after a lot of work facing their past. They offer hope for the others. I am finding, in the stories that aren’t here but have been told to me recently, that some also grew up to marry abusers and the cycle still continues in their lives today — or, they grew up to become the abuser.

The purpose of these columns isn’t to give advice but to offer hope to those still in abusive situations.

What happens in 2018 if you call the authorities? Who is qualified to offer help? Where is a safe place for those who are experiencing violence? I hope to find answers to some of those questions next week.

Quote is taken from healthyplace.com: “For every wound there is a scar and every scar tells a story — a story that says I survived.”

Wells resident Julie Seedorf’s column appears every Monday. Send email to her at hermionyvidaliabooks@gmail.com.