Yecheilyah’s Book Reviews – Even Rain is Just Water: A Memoir of Rejection, Revelation & Redemption by Lynette Davis

The PBS Blog

Title: Even Rain is Just Water: A Memoir of Rejection, Revelation & Redemption

Author: Lynette Davis

Print Length: 296 pages

Publisher: Reflections Books; 1 edition (May 30, 2017)

Publication Date: May 30, 2017

Sold by: Amazon Digital Services LLC

Language: English

ASIN: B071DC83TN

*I received this book as a gift from the author*

When I first read the title of this book, I knew that I would read it. With a powerful statement, as Even Rain is Just Water it had to be good. I was not disappointed. Lynette Davis gives us a riveting account of her life as the victim of emotional abuse at the hands of someone who is to be a girl’s first teacher, supporter, and motivator. Her mother.

The testimony switches back and forth between Lyn’s experiences as a child and as an adult, both of which include some form of emotional abuse and neglect. Lyn’s…

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9 Comments

  1. Congrats again Lynette 🙂

  2. Lynette!! Your book is riveting!!

    The craziness with our apparently narcissistic church pastor happened the same day I bought your ebook. I was far too shaken, for many days afterward, to read anything and comprehend it. Then I was scheduled for another surgery, which I had five days ago. Anticipating the surgery, then recovering from the surgery…. Yikes!

    It wasn’t until late last night that I finally felt ready to read a book. I have read over 60% of your memoir since then, and…. sorry about the cliche…. but I can’t put it down. I only put it down long enough to come here and tell you how powerfully your story is affecting me.

    Thank you so much for sharing your story with the world! Although the details are different, I relate. Oh, boy, do I ever relate! I really needed to read this story right now. Your life history is validating my life history in a profound and healing way.

    Remember months ago, maybe a year ago, when you sent me a few sample chapters of your then-unpublished book? And I couldn’t get past the prologue, because your mother was so much like my mother, and it hurt? But now, thanks to the 25 or so neurofeedback treatments that I have had since then for my complex PTSD, I am healed enough that reading your memoir doesn’t hurt, like I was afraid it would. Instead, I am finding it very healing to read your story.

    I love the honesty in your book. I love how totally real and unpretentious you are.

    ((HUG))

    Ok now, back to your book!!

    1. Hi Lynda, Yes I do remember when you couldn’t get past the Prologue best you were so triggered. I’m just thrilled that you are enjoying my book and that you’ve read 60% and that you find it very healing and validating which is exactly how I hoped my book would affect survivors.

  3. I have now finished your book. I love love LOVE the way you ended your story. What a beautiful, powerful, inspirational, and TRUE spiritual perspective!

    Now I just need to put together a review. It may take me a couple of days, my head still seems a bit muddled from the anesthesia I had last Monday. But I have another neurofeedback treatment scheduled for this coming Monday, which should help a lot.

    When I had my previous surgical procedure under general anesthesia two months ago, the therapist told me that he could tell by my brain wave patterns when I came in for my next treatment, that the experience had set me back. But he said my brainwaves responded very quickly to the NFT. I could definitely feel the difference, too, both before and after. I was told by the anesthesiologist that I stopped breathing during my surgery in May, and I think that probably made my brainwave patterns even worse temporarily, after that earlier procedure, because I felt much more dissociated in the days after my surgery in May, than I feel now after this second one.

    Wow, it amazes me, how our brains and bodies were created to work! Truly, we are wonderfully and awesomely made, by our Creator God. I thank God especially for the ability to heal after injuries, both physical injuries and emotional/spiritual injuries.

    After reading your story, I feel like you are the little sister I always wanted. (I say “little” sister because, going by the timeline of your memoir, I am five years older than you.)

    It amazes me that you are able to be such a loving and caring mom, despite the harsh rejection and lifelong emotional abuse of your birth mother. We can’t give away something that we were never given. Thank God for your paternal grandmother, and the aunt who cared for you in your infancy in Baltimore, the one whose picture later made you cry. They must have loved you enough, during your formative years, that you were therefore able to love and nurture your own children, the way a mother should.

    I believe that is what happened in my early childhood. My dad — that is, the name on my birth certificate, the man who was married to my mother until I was twelve, although he probably was not my biological dad — when I was a teenager, he was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder. And he really did have more than one very different personality living inside him! His most predominant personality, during my first years of life, was a very loving, caring daddy. Later, he became very evil. But by then, most of my basic personality had already been formed.

    My mother, too, although she did not have multiple personalities, was a very different sort of mother, depending on the age of her child. I saw her do this with my much younger siblings, and I also have some memories of her doing this with me: with tiny babies, she was attentive and nurturing. But as soon as the child became a toddler, old enough to misbehave, to talk back, to walk away when told to come here, all hell broke lose!

    Also, in my particular case, my mother made me her number one scapegoat. But that did not happen until I was twelve and a half, when I refused to go along with her insane plot to drive us all off a cliff, after her attempts to gas us all to death had failed.

    I dared to disagree with my mother’s declaration to me that she had brought us all into the world, so therefore she had the right to take us out of it. Can you imagine my audacity?! I have been her deeply despised scapegoat ever since.

    Before I end this very long comment, I just want to say, about that jealous woman and her puppets who mistreated you in that one small church you used to attend — I have had a few narcissistic women treat me exactly the same way, in churches, where you expect people to act like Christians and to CARE about each other. It is so bizarre!! And you are right, it is a spiritual attack.

    Thank God our Father that we are more than overcomers in Christ Jesus, and no weapon formed against us can prosper!

    1. Wow Lynda. I’m so jazzed that you finished my book. You’re going to have to tell me more about Neuro Feedback Treatment. You’ve made a lot of progress in a short period of time. It’s absolutely amazing that your doctors could tell that you’d had a setback–from your brain waves. Truly amazing! Yes, it is truly amazing how our bodies and brain work. And how much we know because of technology.

      I feel a special bond with other survivors (of narcissistic mothers too). Probably because we don’t have to explain ourselves or try to convince you of what we’ve experienced. You already know.

      My paternal grandmother definitely was a godsend for me and a vehicle of hope for me. And, although I hadn’t thought about it until you mentioned it, my aunt that cared for me when I was a baby must have made an indelible impression on my brain because I knew the difference, even at three years old.

      Oh and that little “church” that I went to was a narcissists den–full of flying monkeys. I’ve since learned that churches are full of narcissists, in one capacity or another. But now they’re easier for me to spot.

  4. PS: I also found it very interesting to read in your memoir about what it was like growing up during the era of segregation, the days of Martin Luther King Jr, etc. I have often tried to imagine what it would be like to have dark skin, especially during the era in which I grew up.

    The reason I wondered about that so much, is because my dad — my mother’s first husband, the name on my birth certificate — was 1/4 black, although he looked white. His father, my paternal grandfather, was 1/2 black. With his blue eyes, Caucasian features, smooth black hair and very dark skin, my paternal grandfather looked like a white man with a deep tan. His mother was black. My grandfather ran away from home as a young boy, to pass in the white world. He lived on his own ever since, and tried to hide his heritage.

    Because of this, although I look like I am 100% white, I grew up believing that I was 1/8 black. And I always felt a great deal of love for people of color, because I believed they were my cousins.

    I believed this, until just 2 years ago, when I had my DNA tested by ancestry dot com. Their racial profiling is supposed to be very accurate. Not 100% correct, but very close. According to my DNA profile, I am not 1/8 black, like I should be if my dad were my dad, nor do I have any German in me, which I also should have, considering that my dad’s mother, my paternal grandmother, had a German maiden name. According to my DNA, I am 73% British, 16% Irish, and I have bits and pieces of things like Italian, Greek, and Scandinavian. All I have that isn’t Caucasian is a less than 1% trace of “possible Nigerian” — but that trace amount is so small that, according to a note on my profile, it “may be a fluke.”

    Do you know how weird it is to discover, at age 62, that your late father probably wasn’t your dad? My mother once took me to see her old boyfriend when I was five years old. I remember that when he told her I looked like her, my mother said “No, she looks like you!” About twenty years later, when I finally worked up the courage to ask my mother why she had said that to her old boyfriend, she acted shocked and told me I must have dreamed it. But I know I did not dream that!

    At the time that I asked her, she had been divorced from my “dad” for many years. So why not tell me the truth, if he wasn’t my biological father?? It’s all so bizarre. It seemed like my mom had the attitude that it was none of my business, to know my biological father. But I do remember that he sent us packing a few minutes after we got there. And my mother never told me sweet stories about her “wonderful old boyfriend” like she had liked to tell me, before she took me to see him. Maybe her being mad at him after that, is part of why I became her scapegoat?

    Having a narcissistic mother will mess up your life in so many ways! Now, whenever I see a black person, I still feel a great deal of love and warmth in my heart for them. But I also feel sad, I feel a great loss. I thought I was one of you, and I am not!

  5. Interesting about what your DNA test revealed. No, I don’t know how it feels to find out at 62 that the person you thought was your father is not your father, but I can image how it feels. I’m thinking about doing a DNA test myself to find out a few things. I wonder what kind of surprises I’ll discover…

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