Slam

Written By: Hans Appel

Are you acutely aware of the subtle sounds of the back door?

​During amazing days, we seemed liked the poster family for happiness.  We were solidly middle class, had a nice home, and as an only child, I was quite literally the center of my parents universe.  From the outside, we looked the part of a perfect family that had it all together. There were wonderful vacations, elaborate holidays, and spectacular arrays of fun.  But, there were also dark days. And in comparison, these gloomy experiences were somehow traumatically burned into cognitive dissonance in ways that were hard to put into words.

​As a child, growing up in an abusive home, I found myself highly attuned to my surroundings.  Frequently my house resembled the verbal equivalent of a war zone. In a house filled with anger, tears, and unease, I became talented at navigating pain and suffering in reluctantly skillful ways. For years, I mediated heated arguments before I was old enough to even enjoy a PG movie.  During particularly bad evenings, I’d cry myself to sleep clutching an oversized stuffed bunny rabbit named “Jumbo”; wondering if this would finally be the last straw that would end in divorce. ​

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