True

Last night, we watched A Murder of Quality again. I like Denholm Elliott as George Smiley very much, he has all the Le Carre qualities for that character, including a kind of gentle befuddlement that Alec Guinness never gave him. But what struck me most eloquently seeing it again was how Smiley does not rise to taunting bait. He simply ignores questions that he is not interested in answering, with redirection or a powerful and eloquent silence. A refusal to answer that I envy deeply, or at least as a skill myself as a child could have used. I've learned since.

My father badgered, harassed, and I was not allowed the option of not answering insane questions. "Answer me! I ASKED you a question!" Well, often he hadn't, or the 'question' was unanswerable, ("Why don't you have any friends?" "Why did you say (something I didn't say) to your mother?") I had to respond, and that response would be hurled back at me, often for years to come. As though he threw rocks at me, and demanded I hand them back nicely, so he could throw them at me again. Yeah, that was my childhood. Constant interrogation. Not physical, but that hardly matters anymore. I wanted to simply shut down and endure, but that was strictly not allowed, I had to stay present - the worst part of it. Look in his eyes - although I learned to stare at the bridge of his nose. He knew something was off, but could not accuse me of not looking at him. Had to be able to answer the vague and contradictory and confusing accusations. Learning not to answer anyone took a lot of practice, deliberate work, later.

So now that the genetic family has failed to acknowledge the abuse, and indeed has managed to reiterate how much I am "like him" (wow) I want only to respond with serene silence. They don't want an honest relationship, they want to prove they are family because they talk with their sister/daughter. Estrangement is troubling to them. Well, that's their trouble. I gave them an honest chance, though I had nothing to gain. Her birthday next week, younger son visiting with older and her, I wait for contact. If it doesn't come, that is an answer, in my view the final one. If there is contact, I will be terse and honest - which will certainly not be appreciated, and that will be final as well.

No more answers from me. Let them make up their own version. From me, silence, a patient smile, and D's example. He's very good at silence, one of his better traits. He will not be drawn in. I admire that so much.


I had to ask him for confirmation this week of what he saw, when my father blew up at me when we were their guests. He did more, reassured me thoroughly, and I am reassured. Soon, I will be able to let it all fade away. Not quite there yet, freshly opened wound and all, but gradually. I just don't let this sort of thing go without care, like leaving the religion of childhood. I need to be thorough, do it well, nothing taken for granted. No regrets later. Dug down deep, rooted out.


The truth shall make ye fret.