I grew up in the north end of Narragansett, a new housing development back in the 70’s, set on Narrow River. We spent our summer days in the water, on bikes, and building forts in the woods. Sounds idyllic, right? But as with most of us, we experience traumas that take up residence in our minds and bodies. My story is of an event that has stayed deeply buried for over 50 years.
Last week in writing class, we were tasked to write a story from our point of view, 1st person, and then rewrite the same story from another’s POV. This practice allowed me to begin to heal and release the memory of the trauma and the visceral consequences.
Imagine looking down at the beach from the parking lot above, on the far left side of the beach floated a long boat dock lined with boats, just to the right of that dock was an area nobody entered on foot, off to the far right was sandbar and around that corner were rocks where Janie and I created our waterfront offices. However, the apple of my eye was at mid beach, the greatest raft ever built! I have many fond memories of playing king of the raft, diving off, cannonballing, and making up silly jump poses with girlfriends.
We grew up on that beach and in that water, warm as piss. My ear infections were rampant. One summer, I swam with a fiberglass cast on my forearm and when it was removed, there were large sunbursts of furry mold attached to my skin! The doctor advised I let them fall off in their own time. Gross. No.
Once or twice a mean neighborhood boy dragged me across the sand toward the muck. I fought tooth and nail against him, but he was stronger and pulled me ankle deep into the terrifying squishy unknown. Still makes me cringe, but the bigger fear/concern is, why did no one stand up for me? The adults seemed to be checked out. The other kids either egged him on or were too afraid if they got involved, they’d be next.
My POV:
However, the most traumatic event occurred with an older and larger teen, a stranger named Karen, the estranged daughter of a wheelchair bound man, apparently here for a short visit and never to be seen again.
The two of us landed on the raft, alone. She looked like the jolly green giant except she emanated anger and glowered at me. Without warning, she grabbed my arm and pulled me off and under the water for what seemed like eternity. Her grip was so strong. I had no recourse. Pure terror gripped my heart and panic ensued, yet I tried to play it cool. I attempted to swim to shore, but she grabbed me and pulled me under repeatedly. Once again, where were the adults! Although I was terrified, I didn’t have the breath or courage to scream. It was like one of those dreams where you are running for your life but not going anywhere. I was sure I was going to die and nobody seemed to notice or care.
Karen’s POV:
I had nothing to do, so I walked down to the crumby beach at the end of the road. I was pissed off at the world. I didn’t want to be there and had nothing else to do but swim out to the raft and join that chubby girl in the lime green babydoll swimsuit. I could tell she was weak and pathetic, and I was bored and a bully. A perfect combo!
She cowered, which made it more enjoyable to pull her off the raft and under the water. She struggled to free herself but was no match for me. I figured she’d start bawling and screaming for her mom, but she didn’t. She appeared unfazed, so I figured I’d go again. I wanted to see, smell and feel her primal fear. I wanted to feel her fat little forearm struggle to squirm out of my grip. I wanted her to suffer like me.
Eventually, I grew tired of the game and didn’t want a drowning on my hands, especially since I was already on probation and potentially facing juvie. I didn’t even care if she told on me. What could my temporary, powerless father do about it? Maybe he’d send me back to my mother. Perfect!
Writing this opened my eyes and heart. It allowed me to step out of the victim role and see that freezing was a survival mechanism. I began to release the burden and shame that was never mine to hold. Finally, it allowed space for grace and to gently hold my inner child who was only doing her best.