“There’s nothing like eavesdropping to show you that the world outside your head is different from the world inside your head.”
Eavesdropping. The fact checking component of the reality check?
Being privy to the conversation? Being privy to insight?
Many of us, coming from experiences of abuse, dysfunctional, and toxic people, systems, and circumstances, don’t accurately see ourselves because reality has been skewed and distorted. We believe the distortion. We are trained to believe it.
We are convinced it’s “normal.” We are convinced it’s “truth.”
It’s not until we finally get some outside information, some “intel,” some different perspective, that we realize that, perhaps, something we believe about ourselves, and our history is wrong, and even a harsh lie.
Eavesdropping, in this regard, can be argued to be more investigation than intrusive act.
Eavesdropping is not just about us pressing our ears to a door. It can be the imperfect, healing work we embark upon as we trust our instincts. Some of us can override our gaslighting experiences when we follow a gut instinct to check beyond the “truth” we’ve been told.
Something is “Off.”
Eavesdropping can be first the realization that something doesn’t match up correctly.
Many of us have been trained to not trust our instincts. We have been conditioned to believe that all is well, normal, and even loving. There is no other explanation offered to us than, “This is how it is. Nothing new to see here.”
Abuse, toxic secrecy, and addictive behaviors thrive within that setting.
There’s constant tension and fear here…
What happened to us didn’t really happen to us. And if it DID happen to us, well, it wasn’t that bad…
No matter how you slice it, however, it still feels “off.” It doesn’t sit right. We know… and feel something that’s different than what’s presented to us.
And that nagging feeling can ignite us to start exploring what else is going on here.
Someone Knows Something Else.
We can be led to someone else for their perspective on our situation. We compare notes with another family member. Perhaps, it’s someone “outside” of the household, like a neighbor. But someone does have some different information. Someone else has seen or heard something, separate from our more sequestered experience.
And now, due to things like DNA, genetic testing, and all kinds of medical science, the case can be made that “someone knows something else” on a macro level. If there is any mystery of parentage or ancestry, spitting our saliva into a tube or offering an arm for a blood draw can yield some dramatic results.
Genetic material can be a different type of eavesdropping for us.
If there’s a question mark, loud enough to compel us to seek out this avenue of acquiring information, answers can offer us a peace like nothing or no one else can.
Another’s agenda factors into why we were fed harmful lies and experiences.
Eavesdropping can be a mercenary necessity when it comes to insight and understanding of our harrowing circumstances. Those circumstances are often fueled by ulterior motives and unhealthy, selfish agendas.
When it comes to discovering the truth and the answers to some of the most distressing and painful questions and issues, abusive motives can lead the charge when it comes to the mysteries we face.
Eavesdropping, therefore, can expand its definition for us as we empower ourselves as truth seekers, unflinching truth seekers, in some cases.
Painful as it is, at the end of the eavesdropping exploration, there can exist such brutal truths, like…
Someone was presented to be our parent, out of retaliation against our real biological mother or father…
We were not told we were a certain ethnicity or religion…
We were kept from knowing what happened, so that someone could control us and continue to abuse, without question or prying eyes…
Not everything done has been nefarious, but usually, there are vital pieces of information that, once known, can help us heal, make decisions, and become more fully the individuals we are.
Eavesdropping is more than just an ear to the door.
Copyright © 2022 by Sheryle Cruse