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Sept. 24, 2024
What Happens at Home...
In this episode of "What Else Don't I Know?", I continue exploring my trauma and healing journey. I discuss the challenges of self-reflection and the impacts of unspoken memories on our lives. Introducing episode three, "What Happens at Home?", I recount traumatic experiences from my childhood, including domestic violence, emphasizing the need to break the silence surrounding familial trauma. This episode calls for open discussions as a means of healing, encouraging listeners to share their stories and seek support, reminding them they are not alone in their journeys.
Transcript
[0:00] So I want to ask you a question. How are you doing? I feel a little more settled. Sometimes I will say I'm going to do something and then I get in my feelings and I'm like, I don't want to do that. I don't, never mind. When I feel that way, what I tell myself is that it's about me, but it's not about me. My purpose for doing this publicly is to let people know they're not alone in their trauma. Then also, again, on my own discovery, I said earlier to a friend that just because you don't know something doesn't mean that that information is not impacting you. Right. Right. And so now I guess I'm just being more active in seeking out what I don't know and it's that that is a little scary but and that's even why I just released one episode because the podcast in its entirety is not done but I thought if I started publicly.
[1:09] There's something in me right that is like okay I can't just have one podcast out there this is It's going to force me to continue the story and the investigation. And so it's a way to hold myself to a standard. I'm happy for this experience for you, though. I've been praying for you because I know as you did, you will discover. But I applaud you for this journey of discovery. Like you willfully going into an uncomfortable place because healing is never comfortable. Healing is always inconvenient. convenient. Like it's never at our convenience. What? Absolutely not.
[1:53] Welcome back to What Else Don't I Know? I'm your host, Yvette Griffea- Gray. The conversation you just heard was with my friend Carmen Means. She's a pastor, community activist, and an author here in Minneapolis. You'll hear more from Carmen in the future, but if you've been listening in real time, then you know it's been a minute since I released my last episode. Honestly speaking, I got in my head a bit and I started feeling really vulnerable about the information I was sharing. Before I knew it, one week turned into two and two turned into three. And well, here we are. I also want to share that I, like you, don't know the end of this story yet. We're on this journey of discovery together. So thank you for your patience and hanging in there with me. It's not easy sharing myself in this way, but today I ran across a quote by Brene Brown that let me know it might be worth it. There's a risk involved in putting your true self out in the world, but I believe there's even more risk in hiding. That said, I'll do my best during this process to get comfortable being uncomfortable, and we'll see where the path leads.
[3:05] Before we get started with episode three, I want to take a moment to say thank you to my friend Todd for hanging out with me last time. It was helpful for me to have a conversation with him after releasing my first episode. And when talking to some listeners, it sounds like people really appreciated the wisdom that Todd had to share. As we go forward, a reminder, in this episode, I will discuss scenes of domestic violence. If domestic violence is a sensitive topic for you and you choose to still listen, please remember to take good care.
[3:35] Up next is episode three, What Happens at Home
[3:43] In the first episode of What Else Don't I Know, I recounted the murder-suicide that resulted in my parents' deaths. And I learned that even though I was only six and my memories are not quite continuous, the snapshots that I recall from that day are pretty accurate. I also learned that my father not only shot my mother once, but five times. Learning this information has been impactful to me, but I'm not exactly sure why. After all, once or five times, the end result was still the same. Perhaps it's because it changed the image of my mother's final moments in my mind. My father standing over her. The fear she must have felt.
[4:26] And the intentionality that it requires to shoot someone five times. One thing is for sure, I'm left with the overwhelming feeling that I wish I could change it all somehow. I do find that revisiting this time of my life causes me to miss my mother in a way that I don't think I've allowed myself to do in the past. This causes me to consider if not talking about this part of my life has been a coping mechanism. Perhaps this has been my way of preventing myself from feeling too much. In any case, while pondering all of this, it occurred to me that the events of December 2nd were actually a culmination. Sadly, I suspect that my mother suffered much more than what I know, what I saw, and what I can remember. After all of that destruction, I can only imagine what she endured on a day-to-day basis. I've actually been thinking about that quite a bit. I can recall four events that might provide a glimpse into what my mother was thinking and perhaps a tiny fraction of what she experienced in the days and months leading up to her death. Before I share, I'd like to make a small observation. After my parents died, I went to live with my maternal grandparents.
[5:38] Growing up with my grandparents, I was often told a phrase that you might also be familiar with. What happens at home stays at home. And that simply meant that I was never to repeat what I heard around the dinner table or go tell my friends any conversations that I heard at home. Family business was family business. No matter what the case, if it happened at home, it stayed at home. And now that I think about it, I can't ever recall learning that there should be exceptions to this rule. Of course, I know now that they did not mean to imply, to stay silent if you're being harmed at home. But to be honest, I wasn't taught that with the same intentionality. And so I find myself wondering, my mother growing up in the same household as me, being raised by my grandparents, how long it took for her to make the distinction that what happens at home stays at home only applies to the benign, not harmful secrets. And how much did she endure before realizing what happens at home shouldn't hurt?
[6:50] I'm realizing that the newspaper article mentioned that my mother was 27 years old but in actuality she was just five days short of her 27th birthday so yeah only 26 years old, did she confide in anyone?
[7:09] And if my mother didn't share with anyone what was going on then I am the only living witness to the following three events that occurred in my childhood home.
[7:23] I remember my mother calling me one day to her bedside and asking, Yvette, who do you want to live with, me or your father? I didn't want to answer this question, and so I said, I want to live with both of you. And my mother replied, you can't live with both of us. I need you to decide. We went back and forth like this for some time until my mother, I imagine, exhausted, released me from the conversation without a decision being made on my part. But after she died, I often recalled this moment and wondered, if I had just chosen, perhaps she would still be alive. Maybe that would have made things a little easier for her, and my mother would still be here. I now know that that's irrational, and of course, none of this was my fault. But growing up, I carried this thought with me for some time.
[8:16] It's dinner time. I am seated at the table in the dining room along with my parents, my mother and father at opposite ends, and I'm in the middle. My father and I are engaged in a joke about our noses. My father tells me that he has a king-sized nose and I have a princess-sized nose, which leads me to conclude and exclaim, well, then mommy has a queen-sized nose. For whatever reason, I think this is really funny and it tickles me. We continued to joke in this way over dinner While my mother, on the other hand, sits at the end of the table in silence pushing her food around on her plate, From what I can recall, the rest of dinner was pretty uneventful My father now departed My mother left to clear the table Which she proceeded to do by breaking every single dish, She'd pick up a plate and send it crashing to the floor another plate crashed to the floor while I sat looking on in amazement. I remember wanting to help in some way but all I knew to do was to pick up the scattered pieces all over our dining room floor. Of course, I wasn't allowed to do that. I could only imagine then as I do now.
[9:37] What could have happened before dinner? What did my father do or say that caused such a rage in my mother while he casually joked at the dinner table with me?
[9:51] It's Friday night, which means one thing. Mommy and I are ordering pizza and watching our favorite TV shows. Ladies and gentlemen, Donnie and Marie. Gentlemen, Sonny and Cher.
[10:10] Captain and Tennille Donnie and Marie, Captain and Tennille and Sonny and Cher It's something we did every Friday night, And this Friday was no different My mother and I clad in our PJs tucked in our room munching on sausage pizza, illuminated only by the blue light of the television screen until my father appeared in the doorway interrupting our weekend ritual with a question for my mother.
[10:37] Are you cheating on me with the pizza man? It must be the pizza man since you order pizza every Friday night. That was the accusation that hung in the air as my father dragged my mother from the bedroom, ushered her in the bathroom, and locked the door behind them. My knocks and pleas to be let in went largely unanswered until I finally said, Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom. That tactic took a few more tries before my father opened the door, revealing my mother in her sleeveless nightgown sitting in a tub full of water. Strangely now, my father would not allow me to sit on the toilet. Instead, he lifted me and placed me on the sink, telling me to go there. Of course, I didn't really have to go. So I sat there, legs dangling, producing nothing, and watching my mother. Her light blue nightgown clinging to her skin, shoulder-length hair drenched, head down, body slumped. And again, silent, just like at the dinner table, but this time, we were all silent.
[11:42] Although for some reason, I have this image in my head of my father holding my mother's head underwater and continuing to ask, Are you cheating on me with the pizza man?
[11:56] There's one other detail that I've kept to myself, and I'm not sure why I recall it this way. But I believe that the water in the tub was extremely hot. So as I got older, I began this weird reenactment of this event and some strange remembrance of my mother. And I would take extremely hot baths. Scarcely a turn of the cold water faucet as I filled up the tub, the water so hot I had to ease in slowly, one body part at a time, adjusting to the pain, slowly accepting the sting of the water until my body was fully submerged. And then I would sit and think about her.
[12:47] Sadly, when I recall these Friday evenings with my mother, the night that I've described here is the only one that I can remember. There are no other memories of us laughing at skits or singing along with musical guests, or even stuffing ourselves too full of pizza, although I'm sure there had to be nights like that. Yet, this is the Friday night that remains. It's the interrupted night that is stored in my memory bank, which makes me wonder if not for that night, would I remember Friday nights with my mother at all?
[13:31] And finally, the night my mother and I were kidnapped at gunpoint. That's next time on And what else don't I know? What also stands out to me is a lot of times we think we're suffering alone. Like we think we're the only one who has the story. But as I've been more open about it, I find that there are many people who have experienced trauma and extreme trauma. It just shows you like you're not by yourself but then also opening up about it I think it's important as well I think it's for me I just kind of want to be like okay it's done that was a part of my life it's not impacting me now in terms of like I feel like I have a good life I have good friends good family that was like a moment in time an unfortunate moment in time but um I think I think there is something to talking about it, even if it's for connecting with other people who have experienced similar things and healing.
[14:46] If you take anything at all away from this episode, my hope is that if you are a victim of domestic violence, that you know you do not have to suffer alone or in silence. And likewise, if you know someone who may be a victim of domestic abuse, please consider being a listening ear and a source of support. You can contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE. That's 1-800-799-7233. Or visit their website at thehotline.org to speak with a trained advocate who can provide support and connect you with local resources.
[1:09] There's something in me right that is like okay I can't just have one podcast out there this is It's going to force me to continue the story and the investigation. And so it's a way to hold myself to a standard. I'm happy for this experience for you, though. I've been praying for you because I know as you did, you will discover. But I applaud you for this journey of discovery. Like you willfully going into an uncomfortable place because healing is never comfortable. Healing is always inconvenient. convenient. Like it's never at our convenience. What? Absolutely not.
[1:53] Welcome back to What Else Don't I Know? I'm your host, Yvette Griffea- Gray. The conversation you just heard was with my friend Carmen Means. She's a pastor, community activist, and an author here in Minneapolis. You'll hear more from Carmen in the future, but if you've been listening in real time, then you know it's been a minute since I released my last episode. Honestly speaking, I got in my head a bit and I started feeling really vulnerable about the information I was sharing. Before I knew it, one week turned into two and two turned into three. And well, here we are. I also want to share that I, like you, don't know the end of this story yet. We're on this journey of discovery together. So thank you for your patience and hanging in there with me. It's not easy sharing myself in this way, but today I ran across a quote by Brene Brown that let me know it might be worth it. There's a risk involved in putting your true self out in the world, but I believe there's even more risk in hiding. That said, I'll do my best during this process to get comfortable being uncomfortable, and we'll see where the path leads.
[3:05] Before we get started with episode three, I want to take a moment to say thank you to my friend Todd for hanging out with me last time. It was helpful for me to have a conversation with him after releasing my first episode. And when talking to some listeners, it sounds like people really appreciated the wisdom that Todd had to share. As we go forward, a reminder, in this episode, I will discuss scenes of domestic violence. If domestic violence is a sensitive topic for you and you choose to still listen, please remember to take good care.
[3:35] Up next is episode three, What Happens at Home
[3:43] In the first episode of What Else Don't I Know, I recounted the murder-suicide that resulted in my parents' deaths. And I learned that even though I was only six and my memories are not quite continuous, the snapshots that I recall from that day are pretty accurate. I also learned that my father not only shot my mother once, but five times. Learning this information has been impactful to me, but I'm not exactly sure why. After all, once or five times, the end result was still the same. Perhaps it's because it changed the image of my mother's final moments in my mind. My father standing over her. The fear she must have felt.
[4:26] And the intentionality that it requires to shoot someone five times. One thing is for sure, I'm left with the overwhelming feeling that I wish I could change it all somehow. I do find that revisiting this time of my life causes me to miss my mother in a way that I don't think I've allowed myself to do in the past. This causes me to consider if not talking about this part of my life has been a coping mechanism. Perhaps this has been my way of preventing myself from feeling too much. In any case, while pondering all of this, it occurred to me that the events of December 2nd were actually a culmination. Sadly, I suspect that my mother suffered much more than what I know, what I saw, and what I can remember. After all of that destruction, I can only imagine what she endured on a day-to-day basis. I've actually been thinking about that quite a bit. I can recall four events that might provide a glimpse into what my mother was thinking and perhaps a tiny fraction of what she experienced in the days and months leading up to her death. Before I share, I'd like to make a small observation. After my parents died, I went to live with my maternal grandparents.
[5:38] Growing up with my grandparents, I was often told a phrase that you might also be familiar with. What happens at home stays at home. And that simply meant that I was never to repeat what I heard around the dinner table or go tell my friends any conversations that I heard at home. Family business was family business. No matter what the case, if it happened at home, it stayed at home. And now that I think about it, I can't ever recall learning that there should be exceptions to this rule. Of course, I know now that they did not mean to imply, to stay silent if you're being harmed at home. But to be honest, I wasn't taught that with the same intentionality. And so I find myself wondering, my mother growing up in the same household as me, being raised by my grandparents, how long it took for her to make the distinction that what happens at home stays at home only applies to the benign, not harmful secrets. And how much did she endure before realizing what happens at home shouldn't hurt?
[6:50] I'm realizing that the newspaper article mentioned that my mother was 27 years old but in actuality she was just five days short of her 27th birthday so yeah only 26 years old, did she confide in anyone?
[7:09] And if my mother didn't share with anyone what was going on then I am the only living witness to the following three events that occurred in my childhood home.
[7:23] I remember my mother calling me one day to her bedside and asking, Yvette, who do you want to live with, me or your father? I didn't want to answer this question, and so I said, I want to live with both of you. And my mother replied, you can't live with both of us. I need you to decide. We went back and forth like this for some time until my mother, I imagine, exhausted, released me from the conversation without a decision being made on my part. But after she died, I often recalled this moment and wondered, if I had just chosen, perhaps she would still be alive. Maybe that would have made things a little easier for her, and my mother would still be here. I now know that that's irrational, and of course, none of this was my fault. But growing up, I carried this thought with me for some time.
[8:16] It's dinner time. I am seated at the table in the dining room along with my parents, my mother and father at opposite ends, and I'm in the middle. My father and I are engaged in a joke about our noses. My father tells me that he has a king-sized nose and I have a princess-sized nose, which leads me to conclude and exclaim, well, then mommy has a queen-sized nose. For whatever reason, I think this is really funny and it tickles me. We continued to joke in this way over dinner While my mother, on the other hand, sits at the end of the table in silence pushing her food around on her plate, From what I can recall, the rest of dinner was pretty uneventful My father now departed My mother left to clear the table Which she proceeded to do by breaking every single dish, She'd pick up a plate and send it crashing to the floor another plate crashed to the floor while I sat looking on in amazement. I remember wanting to help in some way but all I knew to do was to pick up the scattered pieces all over our dining room floor. Of course, I wasn't allowed to do that. I could only imagine then as I do now.
[9:37] What could have happened before dinner? What did my father do or say that caused such a rage in my mother while he casually joked at the dinner table with me?
[9:51] It's Friday night, which means one thing. Mommy and I are ordering pizza and watching our favorite TV shows. Ladies and gentlemen, Donnie and Marie. Gentlemen, Sonny and Cher.
[10:10] Captain and Tennille Donnie and Marie, Captain and Tennille and Sonny and Cher It's something we did every Friday night, And this Friday was no different My mother and I clad in our PJs tucked in our room munching on sausage pizza, illuminated only by the blue light of the television screen until my father appeared in the doorway interrupting our weekend ritual with a question for my mother.
[10:37] Are you cheating on me with the pizza man? It must be the pizza man since you order pizza every Friday night. That was the accusation that hung in the air as my father dragged my mother from the bedroom, ushered her in the bathroom, and locked the door behind them. My knocks and pleas to be let in went largely unanswered until I finally said, Daddy, I have to go to the bathroom. That tactic took a few more tries before my father opened the door, revealing my mother in her sleeveless nightgown sitting in a tub full of water. Strangely now, my father would not allow me to sit on the toilet. Instead, he lifted me and placed me on the sink, telling me to go there. Of course, I didn't really have to go. So I sat there, legs dangling, producing nothing, and watching my mother. Her light blue nightgown clinging to her skin, shoulder-length hair drenched, head down, body slumped. And again, silent, just like at the dinner table, but this time, we were all silent.
[11:42] Although for some reason, I have this image in my head of my father holding my mother's head underwater and continuing to ask, Are you cheating on me with the pizza man?
[11:56] There's one other detail that I've kept to myself, and I'm not sure why I recall it this way. But I believe that the water in the tub was extremely hot. So as I got older, I began this weird reenactment of this event and some strange remembrance of my mother. And I would take extremely hot baths. Scarcely a turn of the cold water faucet as I filled up the tub, the water so hot I had to ease in slowly, one body part at a time, adjusting to the pain, slowly accepting the sting of the water until my body was fully submerged. And then I would sit and think about her.
[12:47] Sadly, when I recall these Friday evenings with my mother, the night that I've described here is the only one that I can remember. There are no other memories of us laughing at skits or singing along with musical guests, or even stuffing ourselves too full of pizza, although I'm sure there had to be nights like that. Yet, this is the Friday night that remains. It's the interrupted night that is stored in my memory bank, which makes me wonder if not for that night, would I remember Friday nights with my mother at all?
[13:31] And finally, the night my mother and I were kidnapped at gunpoint. That's next time on And what else don't I know? What also stands out to me is a lot of times we think we're suffering alone. Like we think we're the only one who has the story. But as I've been more open about it, I find that there are many people who have experienced trauma and extreme trauma. It just shows you like you're not by yourself but then also opening up about it I think it's important as well I think it's for me I just kind of want to be like okay it's done that was a part of my life it's not impacting me now in terms of like I feel like I have a good life I have good friends good family that was like a moment in time an unfortunate moment in time but um I think I think there is something to talking about it, even if it's for connecting with other people who have experienced similar things and healing.
[14:46] If you take anything at all away from this episode, my hope is that if you are a victim of domestic violence, that you know you do not have to suffer alone or in silence. And likewise, if you know someone who may be a victim of domestic abuse, please consider being a listening ear and a source of support. You can contact the National Domestic Violence Hotline at 1-800-799-SAFE. That's 1-800-799-7233. Or visit their website at thehotline.org to speak with a trained advocate who can provide support and connect you with local resources.
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