BARBARA'S TCHATZKAHS

by Robin Stern I was a young girl in the 1950s, when most women stayed home to raise their children. I remember thinking my mother's vision was ahead of her time - I thought her brave, independent, and fearless. She talked often about how women should be more in the forefront and take risks in the community at large, like working in business, going into politics. She told me with great pride stories about her work as a draftsperson during the Second World War, and I basked in her glow when she talked about creating murals for department stores. she especially liked talking about how she designed Christmas murals using Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer. Around Christmas time - I remember going to the stores to see Rudolf for myself - I thought it was great - I was so proud! So, it was confusing to me when she told me that she had given up many work opportunities after getting married, at the insistence of my dad, who was very clear about his version of husband/wife roles....men worked, ...

Believe it or not abuse is hard for me to talk about. Mainly because I have to talk about things that happened to ME. I relate all too well to most of what I hear & read. And I feel stupid for not putting all the pieces together until just a few years ago. I had some pieces right - but not all of them. Part of me just didn't want to admit what was happening. Part of me still cares about a few of my abusers, too. While I intellectually understand I was raised in an abusive, dysfunctional home that appeared to everyone to be upper-middle class and wonderful on the outside, and therefore had no idea I was being abused until it was too late, I still get angry at myself. Why? Because I had zero problem seeing when others were in trouble or being abused, manipulated, dismissed or put down. In High School anyone with a problem would end up finding me because I gave such "good advice." Little did they know I was a sitting duck for emotional and sexual abuse that trigger...