misguided and confused

Every time that I have tried to "deal" with my past the same responses come up. I am dismissed as attention seeking. I am asked what I want to "get" out of it all. I am accused of stirring the pot.

It hurts. It hurts a lot. Maybe I am seeking attention. As a mother, I know that means that my children are lacking something if they are doing anything in their power to get my attention. I personally do not feel that is my goal. If that were my goal, I know ways that are much more painless.  

I have thought a lot on the question of what I want to "get" out of speaking up. I want to say, my only desire is to shed light on something that happens in families every day. That would be very noble, a cause behind the chaos in my head. But really, all I can say is, I don't know what I want. It is actually probably the hardest part for me to "deal" with. I am a semi motivated person. If I have a goal, I can reach it. If I want something I can get there. But in this situation, I have absolutely NO idea what in the hell I want. Or do I?

Maybe I want to die. That will bring an end about. This is not to say I want to cease to live, or that I will take my own life. But, upon reflection, trying to discern what it is I want, I want the hurt feelings, mean words, condescension, and second guessing to stop. But as long as I breath, as long as I am a part, it will go on. So that leaves me one thing to desire. Please, don't take this as a suicide note. I have much more to live for than you will ever know. 3 sweet faces who hug me when I cry, telling me that maybe I will feel better tomorrow. Little arms that don't really understand why I just screamed when they wrapped around my thigh, but are willing to cuddle when I calm down. Little voices that say, "I love you, all the way to the end". I will not shorten my life voluntarily. No, even if I feel like that is the only thing that will solve the pain, frustration, and sadness in my body. 

Along with the one thing I know I want (that I will not get until it comes naturally) I know what I DON'T want. Stop calling me beautiful. I don't want to be attractive. I don't want that attention. Believe it or not, I don't like all eyes on me. I never have, it makes me feel dirty. I would rather hide in a group, preferably the back of a group. You don't have to believe this (what woman doesn't want to be beautiful?) but it is my truth. 

I also want the accusations to stop. Accusing me of a selective memory, or of being misguided and confused. EVERYONE has a selective memory. My abuser has decided to not have any memory of the most awful parts of my life that he was a key player in. Misguided would make it seem like someone is helping me along in this journey. I am alone. Confused is not even close to the mix of emotions I feel.

What would you do in my position? Sweep it under the rug? Walk away? Go on pretending in life that you are "normal"? How do you think I should react? Therapy? Medication? 

I really am at a loss. 

Never Alone

All it would take would be for him to say it didn't happen, and nobody will believe that it did, except for me. I can't erase the experience. I can't make the memory go away; the anxiety; the sadness; the pain. Regardless, if the world knows, or I keep it to myself, those things will be constant.

But they will all think I am crazy if he denies it, making up stories for attention. I don't want attention. I don't want anyone to look at me, let alone pay me any attention. If I don't say anything I only have to endure the attention from him. But if I say something maybe they will write me off as crazy and ignore me and he will stop. Or it could get worse.

I could end up alone. I am there now, but what if it got worse, what if my family didn't care to try and help me. What if nobody wants to talk to me because I am crazy; and if I am not making stories up, I am a disgusting thing that has been ruined and abused. I should stay alone. I shouldn't tell anyone.

He's right, nobody will believe me anyway.

NO!

Almost everything I was afraid of that kept me quiet has come true. 

This is not the first time I have said anything about the abuse. I first brought it up to the family 10 years ago, 2 years after it had stopped. It was denied, I was brushed off, and an elephant moved in with my parents. 8 years ago my husband brought it up again, denied again. 2 years ago it was brought up by my mother, resulting in a journal retelling the events, denied again and this time I am NOT going to stay quiet. 

What happened was wrong, and it did happen. It is unfortunate, but it happened. I don't even care so much that it happened, as much as I care that HE is 'winning'. Not just in the story that is my life, but anyone's story that has an abuser. The abusers are winning, because nobody will talk about it. I am NOT alone. I will never be alone. I don't need other people to believe me to validate a memory, or make it more real. It is the choice of someone hearing (or reading) my story to believe or not. 

Since I have said publicly that sexual abuse happens and children need a safe place to talk about it,  I seem to have lost my family. It is a tragic thing. But there is a part of me that wonders where they have been my whole life. Why stop pretending now? My friends have surrounded me and comforted me, but is there ever a replacement for that feeling of family? I have always wondered what it would feel like if I were to be believed wholeheartedly and someone were to choose me over someone else. I will never know that feeling. He is more worth a family I guess. Or maybe I am just strong enough to continue on without. 

I have been called vindictive, cowardly, and delusional in the past few weeks. I have been attacked, and I have been shown that the feeling of being alone was very real. 

But I have also been called brave, empowering, and strong in the past few weeks. I have been offered shoulders that I didn't know understood, and I have seen the power of a community. I will never be alone.

I see being alone as a very real fear. While I was growing up, my dog kept me company, and my cat. They both did things to show me support. I am not sure if they did it intentionally or if there were just karmic lessons my entire life, but I am glad I was not completely alone. I have been able to speak openly to close friends for years and found reassurance that they do not find me repulsive for the things that have happened in my past. They aren't even upset with the ways I handled my emotions poorly and those were choices I made. They still love and see the present me.

I still fear being alone late at night, like right now, when everyone is asleep. I want to sleep, but I can't, because my mind will not slow down. Why did I have to be right? Why can he erase it from his past with denial but I can't? Why am I being called names? How did I find such an amazing community that will never let me be alone?

Nobody is alone in a struggle, it is just finding the person to talk to and cry with. I will find them tomorrow.