The Therapy Sessions #7: "You Were Never To Blame"

As I mentioned in the first post in The Therapy Sessions series, it's hard to describe what it's like to be blindsided by memories of the legacy of childhood trauma while in my 50's. I've got Jesus, good therapists, a loving family and a supportive church community, but... it's a lot.  

My second post/song noted that for the next several songs, it's worth noting that the ages of 8, 9 and 10 were the epicenter of trauma.  On the other end of the spectrum,I've learned it's not unusual for men my age to remember this kind of stuff in their 50s. 

My third song looked at how a child can form views of themselves based on trauma and not reality. This song was a loving song to remind Little Me of who I really was.

The fourth song had more to do with navigating that legacy as a man in my 50's. It's been a wild ride, y'all, but I'm getting onto solid ground.

The fifth song was meant to capture a child-like me asking God some sincere questions about why God allows life to unfold the way it does.This song is quiet, contemplative, hopefully capturing some hopeful sorrow.

The sixth song was not quiet.  Part of trauma recovery is being honest about anger and the weight of all that happened, and, well, sometimes the day in front of us gets overwhelming. This song let me vent.

Today's song is another perspective from adult me as I look back on Little Me and speak truth to push out the lies.

Perhaps your life experience looks, in some fashion, similar to mine. If so, I'm sorry. That's really hard. If you care to read what I write or listen to the songs I post, may they remind you that you are not alone; that our history is not our destiny; and - to quote Samwise Gangee -  "There's some good in this world, Mr. Frodo, and it's worth fighting for."  

"You Were Never To Blame"

https://suno.com/s/grhd2tRjpJwIhWOA

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Targeted by others who would sin

Prepare for the people, who would circle again?

With no means to defend

For a boy who was nine, maybe ten.

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Ashamed and confused by the hands of grown men,

Try to make sure it won’t happen again?

With no means to defend

For a boy who was nine, maybe ten.

Chorus

9 year old boy, you were never to blame,

They branded your soul with their own shame.

You made it through by forgetting the pain—

And their own darkness, told you your name.

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten,

Already collapsing before it begins,

Show anyone else what kept happening then?

How does a boy, only nine, maybe ten, 

Know he wasn’t the problem—the problem was them

And one day there’ll be light, but it’s dark until then…

Chorus

You carried the silence as long as you could,

Believing that darkness was stronger than good.

But truth has a voice that burns through the shame—

It calls to the boy, and it speaks your true name.

Chorus

None of their darkness, can tell you…

Your name is…

Beautiful Boy.