Grit:
It’s what gets on your clothes, under your skin, in your blood when you love hard, fight hard, play hard, live hard in a place where everyone has to work hard to survive.
Where I Come From:
A small town within a city, where in the early 1950’s, used-to-be farmers, sailors, soldiers, and many men who worked thankless jobs came to work as steel and pipe workers, electricians, plumbers, builders—hard working blue collar jobs. The strong women who loved them followed. They came to work and raise families, hoping to build better lives than what they had left behind.
Leaving:
I walked away from my father’s life with more than my father came with. The grit I gained from the hard working people around me got me through a lifetime of struggle. As a sensitive girl with haunting, hidden memories, who loved classical music in an environment not inclined to appreciate its beauty, I survived. And when I left, I took my music with me.
What I Have Learned:
Each reflection of your past—good or bad—adds another dimension to every step you take. You will stumble until you stop and repair each broken step. Only then can you continue to climb.
Why I Wrote The Silent Piano
The Silent Piano is the story of how the suppressed memory of a severely traumatized girl affected her life, and how for over forty-five years she untangles its complicated web. I am that little girl—teen, wife, mother, and grandmother.
The trauma I faced is not the story. My story is the effect it had on me, and how it led to complex irrational fears that changed the course of my life. After many years of therapy, I eventually recovered my memory, faced my fears, and became empowered with the knowledge that I could be loved. I have gained the faith that I can survive anything.
I wrote this series of books with the hope that my story may let others who have faced trauma know there is a way out of the darkness. It is my understanding that it is very difficult to heal without the help of professionals. I am grateful that I found and accepted the help I needed. I also hope that my story will enable an adult to see a child who is in trouble, and that the adult will reach out to help that child before he or she faces a lifetime of struggle.
I kept a diary as my past unfolded and I would not have been able to write my story without this record. It seems to me that the mind holds on to emotional stress until it has been expressed as many times as necessary, then gradually lets it go with the telling.
My nights are now free of terror, I no longer scream at the sight of a spider, and I seldom relive my past. I say seldom because the abuse never goes away. It lies dormant, becomes less sharp and doesn’t cut as deep when it does reappear. Now, most of my days are full of life and laughter.
My story is based on the truth as I remember it. I understand that memory is not perfect and changes with time, so I cannot say that everything written is completely true. It seems strange, but I have also found that what is my truth of an incident may not be the same truth of someone else in my story.
All of the names have been changed, with the exception of my father, Ed, and mother, Helen. I call myself Lisa to distance myself from my past.