Shoes

Repeatedly it has been pointed out to me what a difficult situation this must be for my parents. I usually shrug. I don't really know what they go through, because my family has never had open communication about the situation. Even in this online "anonymous" format, I refer to what happened in vague terms, and I keep it pretty general. I have never been taught how to talk about it, or how to express my feelings that are a direct result of what happened to me. But just because I don't know exactly what they are going through, or thinking, does not mean I can not imagine. I have actually imagined quite a bit, what I would do if one of my children hurt the other in the way that I was hurt. I have imagined my immediate reaction, the emotions, and my long lasting reaction. I have imagined if I had found out when the abuse was still taking place, what differences there might be in my reaction. I have imagined how my reaction would be different if I did not find out about the abuse until it was "too late" and one child had harmed the other to an "irreparable" state.  How would I react differently if I were to walk in on an abuse taking place. I can not say what is appropriate as a reaction from my parents. But I can say that I know my reactions in any of my imagined situations would be lacking.

Much to many people's surprise, I do not think that I am perfect. Quite the opposite actually. I am broken, imperfect, and a very big mess. I don't think that I would produce the perfect response to any situation if my children are ever the object of abuse, or abusers themselves. But I know I would not walk away. Or pretend there is no hurt, or hide my feelings, or put on a brave front. Even now when the boys are hurt with a stubbed toe, or falling in the midst of the mess of toys they just made, I cry with them. I tell them that when you are hurt, it is ok to cry. This has taken me a while, I don't remember crying when I needed to most. I remember being strong and brave (and very angry). 

I have felt lately that I needed to make a decision. My family has not handled this situation in any way that is healing for me. I have felt like I need to walk away, stop the pain, take care of myself for my children. Then a friend loaned me a book, "Outgrowing the Pain". It was a quick read, thank goodness, and it made several points that I needed reaffirmed. One of which is that I am not alone. I may feel alone if I don't do what my family wants from me, but if their love is contingent on me acting in certain ways than maybe what they want me to do is more for their benefit than mine. (This realization was not one that I connected with my parents, more the abuser.) But just the fact that I wrote that disclaimer makes me think. Why do I need to clarify? If the shoe fits the reader they should wear it. 

I still do a lot in my life to try and win the affection of my parents. I think I always will. Not to say that my parents don't love me. They provided shelter, food, and dance classes (which has turned into a therapeutic activity), for me throughout my life; they have loved me the best they know how. I do not fault them for any of the things that happened to me by someone else's hand, or by my own. I think had they known they would have done "something" to have stopped it. Maybe send me away, or hire a babysitter, or something. But they never knew, they had to work, so they could provide their love for me.(which I do not say with a sarcastic tone, I truly believe they were doing what they felt was best for their children)

All I can do now is to internalize what I can do for my children. I can take the knowledge that I have from my experience and try to prevent the cycle from continuing. I try to maintain our priority in my family to be loving time and experiences. I let my children scream out their feelings, when they are done I talk with them about how they feel, how they are making me feel, and what we can do. I am by no means perfect, I feel like I have to keep saying that because I am saying how hard I try, and I do not want it assumed that I think I am any better than my parents. I still slam things, but then I talk about it. Why I did it, how it made me feel, how I probably shouldn't have done it. My boys know I am imperfect, but at the end of the day, they still want some cuddles. They still want just one more hug. 

I have always avoided counseling for the abuse. I tried once, the therapist told me I should try cutting ties with my family. I stopped going. That is still one of the scariest things for me. Why? I feel alone already, and I am constantly looking for ways to win approval or affection. Maybe it is time that I step back and let someone else earn my love, earn my trust. Maybe I should go back to therapy and listen....maybe....or maybe I should continue on the way it's been. Continue to love myself and wonder why I am not worthy. Continue to hate myself and wonder why he is worthy. Maintain a false smile, remember to say "we're good", and just hope that some day the discussion will happen and the elephant will be evicted from the room. Or give up hope. 

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.