Q&A with Bridey Thelen-Heidel

 

 

Bridey Thelen-Heidel is the author of the new memoir Bright Eyes: Surviving Our Monsters and Learning to Live without Them. Also a high school English teacher, she lives in South Lake Tahoe, California. 

 

Q: Why did you decide to write this memoir? 

 

A: I’ve always loved reading memoir, especially ones about women who grew up like I did, because I’d been so isolated as a child—thinking my story was unique—so reading that there were others going through similar experiences not only felt comforting but also inspiring. 

 

Although the stories were always about young girls being brave enough to stand up to their monsters—again, something I related to—I always seemed to find myself with unanswered questions: How did these women leave even when they knew everything was going to fall apart? How did they stay gone when they—like me—were raised to be loyal to the monsters, no matter what? And, the really big question, how did they learn to forgive, and how did they decide who deserved to be forgiven? 

 

I wrote Bright Eyes to answer these questions—and others—because I wanted to sort the answers out for myself and figured there were others who might be searching for them, too. I feel like the memoir is not just what happened to me but a “How To” manual of sorts, and I’m excited to see who it helps!  

 

Q: How were the book’s title and subtitle chosen, and what do they signify for you? 

 

A: At first, I named the book after my mother but quickly realized the book wasn’t her story; it was mine. I also realized I wouldn’t be able to use her real name for privacy concerns, anyway. 

 

Bright Eyes was my mother’s nickname for me when I was a kid, and it seemed like the perfect title not only because of how and when she calls me that within the story but because it also represents the hope and optimism I was conditioned to have growing up in an abusive home: believing if we could survive the night, tomorrow would be better; believing that the grass was greener anywhere but where we were currently living, so that moving every six months made sense; and believing that my life could be and would be greater than the story I’d been written into.

 

The subtitle—“Surviving our monsters and learning to live without them”—came about because I’d not only written about what happened, and how I survived it, but how I managed to sever all ties of codependency with my narcissistic, abusive mother and never—ever—look back.

 

Probably like a lot of kids raised to rescue a parent, I was 14 when I realized I was addicted to saving my mom from the monsters she moved in—the adrenaline rush of rescue was real, and the fact that she needed me more than anyone else in the world was intoxicating.

 

Bright Eyes explores how we move on, how we forgive—or don’t—and how we use the same traits that helped us to survive our abusive, chaotic upbringings—the resilience, optimism, and bravery—to then create our own happily, ever after.  

Q: The writer Bobi Conn said of the book, “Bridey’s triumphant story is a strong illustration that sometimes, the best revenge is to flourish.” What do you think of that description? 

 

A: Of course, I think a lot of memoirs about abusers might begin as revenge stories—getting that person back by telling their dirty secrets—but a few Google searches will warn you not to do this for a variety of reasons, so after getting what I needed to off my chest, I revised those early drafts to remove any revenge POV. 

 

However, there is a truth children who grow up like I did know too well: We keep our mouths shut, and our bodies available. If we stray from that conditioning and speak up, block a punch, or—God forbid—want something more for ourselves than boxes of food left by strangers on our porch or walls without boot holes in them, we are warned, “Don’t think you’re better than me!” or “Look at Little Miss High and Mighty, who do you think you are?” 

 

In my case, going to the fancy private college that gave me a generous scholarship was the proverbial straw that broke my mother’s back. While she decided I’d set out to show her up, what I’d really been trying to do was to make her proud—a feat I’ve yet to accomplish to this day. 

 

It was a Catch-22 because she loved to brag about me to everyone she knew, but in reality, she resented me for doing what she hadn’t—even blaming my very existence for interrupting the plans she had for her life. 

 

My mother taught me how to be successful and have healthy, loving relationships with my husband and my daughter: Do the exact opposite of everything she did.  

 

Q: What impact did it have on you to write this memoir, and what do you hope readers take away from it? 

 

Although writing this memoir felt much like a “good” exorcism—if there is such a thing—because I purged all the stories that had been trapped in my body for decades, causing illness and disease, it was the greatest gift I could’ve given to myself because I healed old wounds and released the ghosts from their hiding places. 

 

As tough a story as I’ve heard it is to read, I’ve also heard from early reviewers that Bright Eyes is a celebration of the human spirit—especially the strength young children have to be resilient and brave. 

 

My hope is that readers who relate to my story realize they were not alone when they were hiding under their beds from the monsters; there was an army of little kids just like them waiting for the night to end and the sun to rise. 

 

I hope that readers who cannot relate—which is such a blessing—but who might be working with children or survivors of domestic violence will understand more about what they hide, how well they present, and that they need to be reminded of their resilience, their optimism, and their bravery because that is what will help them leave their monsters—for good—and, hopefully, break the cycle of generational trauma and abuse.  

 

Q: What are you working on now?  

 

A: In addition to writing pieces to accompany my memoir, Bright Eyes, and the TEDx I recently gave, “ROB the Trauma: Steal Back Your Life,” I’ve been developing a series of children’s books based on myself as a quirky young girl who was struggling to make sense of the chaos around her. 

 

As a result of growing up in the chaos I did, I parented myself and developed several disorders to survive it all. With my Irish setter as my closest confidante, I thought it might be interesting to explore the stories in my memoir from that perspective—kind of a Junie B. Jones meets Pippi Longstocking!  

 

Q: Anything else we should know?  

 

A: I would love readers to know that those of us who write memoir really appreciate hearing when our stories connect with others because it reminds us that our experience isn’t as unique—or weird, odd, out of the ordinary—as we probably grew up thinking it was. 

 

It’s sad but also comforting to know that there were other kids like me being brave in the middle of the night who are now grown up and living beautiful lives. We’ve come out of the dark and are standing in the sunshine together, sharing our stories and cheering one another on. 

 

I’d also like anyone thinking about writing down their story to know that those of us who’ve gotten all the way across the finish line to actually publishing our books started the same way: a story burning in our belly, a ton of insecurity about what others will think, fear that our skills aren’t good enough, and an insane little voice from somewhere deep inside telling us we might actually be able to pull it off! 

 

--Interview with Deborah Kalb