OPEN GATES
No
matter what we call it, “change,” “life passages,”
“forks in the road of life,” daily living on this
planet we call Earth presents us with challenges that test us
to the Max at times. We are forced to make decisions that scare
the hell out of us and we pass through doors not having an inkling
of what lies in store for us on the other side.
At one point in my life I found it necessary to give up my own
home and live with other people. I had taken a position in the
home of a woman who had suffered a stroke and wasn’t able
to drive a car. All I would have to do is drive her to her appointments
in exchange for comfortable living quarters. It seemed to be an
ideal situation for me at the time and she presented herself as
a loving, caring individual. My two small animals were welcome
in her home and that clinched the arrangement. It seemed almost
too good to be true. After a short time there I began to learn
more about this woman and her family.
The missing husband, that she had portrayed as a “good man”
who had made a mistake involving drugs, was in prison. I had considered
this information and had decided it was something I could live
with since it was not her fault her husband had made bad choices.
I even agreed to drive her to visit him in the state prison where
he was incarcerated. However, after I had driven her to visit
her husband on several occasions, an acquaintance of the woman
let it slip one day that he was actually in prison because he
had been sexually assaulting his own daughter for a number of
years, from the time she was eleven or twelve. When she turned
eighteen she finally got the courage to turn him in to the authorities.
The story was almost unbelievable and the family had covered it
up well, but upon my insistence, the acquaintance showed me written
proof of the actual facts. I also learned that the woman herself
suffered a stroke at the hands of her “good man” when
he had beaten her senseless one night. His excuse was that she
“seemed depressed and he wanted to shape her up a bit.”
I next learned that she had participated in the sexual abuse,
allowing it to go on in their marital bed, doing nothing to protect
her young daughter. When I learned the horrific truth I was appalled
and angry that I had been lied to and duped in such a way as to
gain my sympathy for this poor woman. I knew that I had to get
out of that house as soon as possible. My own background of childhood
sexual abuse would not allow me to stay in that atmosphere where
the family was blaming the victim. The daughter had been outcast
because she had the courage to turn her father in to the authorities.
I had no idea where I was going to go.
Right about that time I had been invited to go and visit some
good friends in another state. Not knowing what else to do, I
decided to go and take this time to reevaluate my life and my
options. I spent long hours walking in the woods and by the ocean
near their home. I found myself being drawn to the beauty and
peacefulness of the area. I had always thought of myself as a
“California person” because, after all, I was a Native
and the climate suited my health needs perfectly. I knew the door
had closed on my present situation and I could sense a new door
opening. My friends wanted me to stay and through them I found
a new position of care-giving that would enable me to rent a small
house where I could live alone with my pets. By then I had come
to realize that was just what I needed more than anything else—my
own private space! I returned to California just long enough to
pack my things and move.
Some well-meaning friends and family members cautioned me about
the move and urged me to stay in California where it was “safe”
and they would be close in case I needed anything. I chose instead
to listen to my instincts and take the risk of walking through
that open gate, not knowing what new challenges awaited me. I
won’t say I didn’t have my moments of fear, wondering
if I had made the right choice. There were times I questioned
my decision, but I didn’t look back.
I have always been fascinated by old gates, hanging on their hinges
with an overgrowth of flowers or weeds, and photographs of unusual
doorways that peak my curiosity as to what lies on the other side
and I often take pictures of those that hold a special appeal.
Gates can be fascinating and even our “teachers” if
we let ourselves open them and step through.
Essay by: Darlene Eberhardt, Sept. 24, 1992
