“Hey, Siri, call dad…”

As ringing filled the car, my ears felt a heat wave coming over them. My heart racing while the words felt as if cotton balls were stuffed over my voice box. I needed to have this conversation, even if it as going to be difficult. My mind had been mulling over it for months. It was time to surrender.

“Hey Torri,” with a seemingly happy voice on the other end, I responded with casual interaction. We continued to exchange at a surface level until I realized I now only had 24 minutes before my meeting. Slowly finding a way to break into a subject so deep with such little time, I fumbled with letting him know I needed to talk about something more serious but wanted to be sure he had time. Sensing his increase of anxiety I felt I needed to at least let him know the subject.

I began reassuring him the conversation was for myself to talk to him about what happened. I did not need anything from him, nor do I hold him responsible. As I began filling in the blanks and letting him know my process and unraveling of my history of sexual trauma I felt this strange energy shifting. My dad was completely silent, the whole time. As I wrapped up the last bit, continuing to reassure him, I finally asked if he was still there.

He said yes, then slowly started to respond. He shared with me the anger and absolute helplessness he felt when we were little and the men mom had been involved with. He knew something was going on, but could not do anything about. He confided in me he had contemplated killing these men in his mind several times. He then talked about when our mom got a restraining order against him (illegally) he completely fell apart and had no idea what to do.

Six years is a long time to not have your dad in your life… Tears began to well up as I suddenly recalled the day my mom and step-dad forced my brother and me to lie, and tell them (while recording) that our dad hit us and we were scared of him. We were around 4 and 5. I was suddenly back in that moment, watching the shower running, with both my brother and I standing there, my brother under the cold water, crying so hard he passed out, twice! So, I said it… “I” did it…. “I” told them my dad hurt us.

The lump in my throat and realization that I had been responsible in that moment for sealing the deal on the restraining order to follow 6 years of not seeing our father, in an effort to protect my brother from passing out again and again. I thought he was dying. I thought they were going to kill him.

As I exchanged with my dad this acknowledgment, I felt the deepest compassion for my father. He too has experienced an incredible journey.

While I continue to honor the emotions surfacing, I now understand a different perspective that feels as if it opened a door to a peaceful heart, filled with compassion. We all have struggles, even those who may have hurt us along the way. When we are able to see their perspective (even if for only a moment), the deepest sense of healing begins to take place.

Surrender with naked vulnerability, offering your heart first and let the love heal. So much love to you all. XOXO