Bearing Witness, Not Airing Dirty Laundry
Preface
For years, I have been told to stay quiet. That sharing my story is “toxic,” that speaking my truth is “playing the victim,” that writing about my own life is nothing more than “airing dirty laundry.”
But silence has never protected me. Silence only erased me.
I am writing this not to argue with those who have already made up their minds, but to leave a clear record—for my children, my grandchild, and anyone who comes across my words in the future. Ten or twenty years from now, I want there to be no confusion about who I was, what I said, and why I said it.
“My words are not weapons. They are survival. They are the way I refuse to be erased.”
My Words vs. Their Accusations
I have been called toxic. Yet in Being a Grandma, I wrote:
“My grandmothers were my anchors. Strong, wise, loving—yet firm when needed… Their stories, their rituals, their laughter shaped my soul. I vowed to give my children that same inheritance.”
That is not toxicity. That is love, longing, and continuity.
I have been accused of “playing the victim.” Yet in my nightmare post I wrote:
“I traded the sleepless nights for nights of night terrors and a tear‑stained face… Someday, I will know my grandchild… I refuse to let life’s wounds harden—each day I rise is proof that I am still becoming, still fighting, still unbroken.”
That is not victimhood. That is survival and transformation.
I have been told I “only post to air dirty laundry.” Yet I have said clearly:
“If that unsettles you, scroll on. But don’t mistake your right to an opinion for the right to control my voice.”
That is not “airing dirty laundry.” That is testimony.
I have been accused of “wanting attention.” Yet in my letter to my granddaughter I wrote:
“Some days hit harder than others… I ache to hold your hand, to hear your laugh, to see your smile… I never dreamed I would be a grandmother kept from knowing her grandchild.”
That is not attention‑seeking. That is grief, love, and truth.
I have been told I am “manipulating others.” Yet in Writing Through Loneliness I wrote:
“Writing our personal stories—sharing our struggles with loneliness—becomes a ceremony of its own, inviting others to join and transform isolation into belonging.”
That is not manipulation. That is community and healing.
Why This Matters
Family estrangement is far more common than most people realize. One nationally representative study found that 27% of Americans are actively estranged from at least one family member American Psychological Association. Another survey reported that 1 in 2 adults is estranged from a close relative TIME.
The emotional toll is profound. According to the Mayo Clinic, estrangement can cause grief as deep as bereavement, often leaving parents and grandparents with “profound sadness, confusion, and even shame” Mayo Clinic Press.
My story is not an isolated drama. It is part of a larger, painful reality that many families face but few speak about.
“These are my words. They are not dirty laundry. They are testimony. They are survival.”
Closing
I am not the old version of myself who swallowed pain to keep the peace. I am healthier now, stronger now, and still becoming. And I will not apologize for that.
This record is not about tearing anyone down. It is about leaving a clear, truthful account of my words, my intent, and my actions—so that in the years ahead, no one can rewrite my story into something it never was.
I am bearing witness. And bearing witness is how cycles break.
A Note for the Future
Dear Dixie Jean,
If you ever find these words years from now, I want you to know this: you were never forgotten. Not for a single day.
Some people may try to tell you stories about me that don’t match the truth. They may say I was toxic, or that I wrote only to air dirty laundry. But the truth is simpler and stronger: I wrote because I loved you, because I missed you, and because I refused to let silence erase me.
I dreamed of holding your hand, hearing your laugh, and watching you grow. Even when I was kept away, I carried you in my heart. Every word I wrote was a way of keeping that bond alive, even when I couldn’t be there in person.
If you are reading this now, I hope you see not just the pain, but the resilience. I hope you see that I chose to keep loving, to keep rising, and to keep becoming. And I hope you know that my greatest wish was always to be part of your life, to share joy with you, and to celebrate the person you are.
No matter what anyone else has said, my love for you has always been steady, fierce, and unbroken.
With all my heart,
Grandma
Sources:
- American Psychological Association – Estrangement is never easy or straightforward American Psychological Association
- TIME – How Estrangement Has Become an Epidemic in America TIME
- Mayo Clinic – The mental health toll of family estrangement Mayo Clinic Press
Leave a comment