What You Do After You Know

The Dufme Journal

What You Do After You Know

There is a difference between suspecting something and knowing something.

Before you know, you can question yourself. You can make excuses. You can tell yourself maybe you misunderstood what you saw, maybe you’re overthinking it, maybe there’s another explanation.

But then something happens.

A conversation. A confirmation. A piece of information you weren’t expecting.

And suddenly, you know.

That is where the real work begins.

Because knowledge comes with a choice: What are you going to do with what you now know?

I’ve learned that knowing the truth doesn’t always make things easier. Sometimes I think we imagine that once we finally get an answer, everything will make sense and we’ll know exactly what to do.

Hell no.

Sometimes the truth creates a whole new set of questions.

It can make you angry. It can break your heart. It can change the way you look at someone you’ve known for years. And sometimes it makes you look back at things that happened a long time ago and see them completely differently.

But here’s something else I’ve learned:

I don’t have to make every decision the same day I receive the information.

I can sit with it.

I can think.

I can pay attention.

I can decide what boundaries need to change.

And I can determine what needs to happen next without allowing somebody else’s actions to control mine.

There is one place where I don’t believe comfort gets to come before truth, though:

When it comes to protecting children.

I say this all the time in Conversations with Dufme609: protect the babies. Protect the kids. Protect the girls. Protect the boys. Protect children. Period.

And protection cannot stop because the person you’re uncomfortable questioning happens to be family.

It cannot stop because somebody has been around forever.

It cannot stop because confronting something might disrupt the family.

Adults can deal with being uncomfortable.

Children should never have to carry something because adults were more comfortable remaining silent.

Listen to them.

Pay attention to changes.

Make sure they know there is somewhere they can speak without fear.

And when something doesn’t feel right, don’t automatically dismiss that feeling simply because you don’t yet have every answer.

This isn’t about living suspicious of everybody around us. It’s about understanding that love and awareness can exist at the same time.

And that lesson applies beyond protecting children.

Once you recognize a pattern in your own life, you don’t have to keep volunteering for it.

You don’t have to keep giving the same access.

You don’t have to continue participating in something simply because you’ve participated in it before.

Sometimes breaking a cycle isn’t some dramatic announcement.

Sometimes it’s a quiet decision:

This stops here.

Maybe nobody applauds you.

Maybe everybody doesn’t understand you.

Maybe somebody even gets angry because the version of you who didn’t have boundaries worked better for them.

That’s okay.

Because what you do after you know becomes part of your legacy too.

Not just what you accumulated.

Not just what you built.

But what you protected.

What you changed.

What you refused to pass down.

And what you finally had the courage to stop.

So when life shows you something you cannot unsee, don’t ask only:

“Why did this happen?”

Eventually, ask yourself another question:

“Now that I know, what am I going to do differently?”

That answer belongs to you.

Take what serves you. Leave what doesn’t.

Sometimes We Simply Weren’t Taught

Something else I’ve learned is that we shouldn’t assume everybody knows what to look for.

Some of us grew up in families where certain things simply weren’t discussed. Nobody talked about boundaries. Nobody explained what inappropriate behavior looked like. Nobody taught children what they should do if somebody made them uncomfortable.

And then those children became adults and parents themselves.

Sometimes people aren’t ignoring something intentionally. Sometimes they were never given the information in the first place.

That’s why conversations matter.

Teach children that their bodies belong to them. Let them know they can tell you when someone makes them uncomfortable—even if that person is someone you know and trust.

Pay attention when their behavior suddenly changes.

Know who spends time with them.

Keep recent photographs and basic identifying information available and updated.

And create the kind of relationship where your child knows they can come to you without worrying about getting in trouble for telling the truth.

We cannot protect children from every possibility in this world.

But we can give them something incredibly powerful:

A safe adult who listens.

Protect the babies. Protect the girls. Protect the boys.

Protect children. Period.

 

This is how I Dufme — Do for me.

— Tracy D. Woods

Protect Your Peace. Trust Your Journey. Leave a Legacy.

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