I think that my childhood is the hardest thing for me to write about. There are so many things that are hard to remember and a lot of emotions that are hard to place because of everything that happened to me. I think its because my childhood brain was reacting to situations, so those thoughts are intertwined in my adult brain in a way that makes it difficult to know the difference between how I felt then, and how I process those feelings now. Not only that, but I always have this underlying sense of guilt. Am I angry at the right people? Do I even have the right to be angry? Am I justified in feeling this way 40 years later? I wish I knew. I wish I could find logic that would support a path to understanding myself.
To be honest, I can’t even remember when the sexual part of the abuse began. I just have this feeling like it was always there. My memories, according to many qualified therapists, are partially blocked by some internal sixth sense of survival. I have flashes, I have nightmares, I sometimes have panic attacks that seemingly come from nowhere when someone touches me a certain way. There are some smells, especially the smell of Jim Beam, that affect me so much that I become nauseous when I get a hint of it on someone’s breath. But, the worst thing, is the black outs.
It would seem, again, according to therapists, that some of those memories that try to fight their way into my mind, are so bad that my brain goes into self-defense mode and shuts me down. Don’t worry! They assure me that during these times I would never do anything out of character but losing a few hours of time when you have kids, it’s a bit scary. Not to mention, there goes a few more hours of my life that I don’t remember.
What I do remember, is… well, its horrifying. I have no idea how people, including myself, survive the things I remember. How do we have those terrible things that happened stuck in our heads and still find a way to keep believing that life is worth living? How do we trust anyone? Hell, how do we manage to turn ourselves into functioning human beings seeing those things run through our minds like a movie you can’t stop watching.
I will tell you that I have absolutely no idea how I have made it this far. I know that I did everything I could, right or wrong, to push it away. I made concessions, I pretended for the benefit of others, I played a role that everyone expected me to play. I focused all of my energy on proving I was better than what happened to me. That I didn’t have to let it break me down. At least, that is what everyone sees. I don’t tell them about the thoughts that go through my mind. I don’t let them see me cry myself to sleep. I do everything I can to hide the constant fear and weakness that I feel every day.
Luckily, that role I play for everyone else, gives me the strength to keep the blankets pulled over the pain. In convincing my kids, family, and friends that I am a well-adjusted human being allows me to almost believe it myself. Leaning occasionally therapy has helped as well, but my general lack of trusting people that are supposed to support you puts a strain there as well. I guess that is one of the benefits of being abused by your father and uncle. Trusting people, more so when they are in a role that should instill a sense of safety, is extremely difficult for me.
So, am I angry with the right people? Do I even have the right to be angry anymore? Are my feelings justified. I HAVE NO IDEA, but I am angry. I think I have become angrier over the last few years since all of my kids have gone on to start their own families. I have a lot more alone time now. I don’t have to pretend anymore. I don’t have to play a role that is acceptable to everyone else. I don’t have to act like I am “just ok” with everything. I am seriously hoping that using this space as a release for all of these intense feelings I am flooded with lately will keep that anger from leaking into every day activities.
I recently overheard a conversation that I want to share to close this post. I was sitting at a hotel, and the people next to me were talking about their sibling. The basics of the conversation was that something traumatic had happened to her, and they were discussing how she should just be over it by now. That it was “years ago”, and they just couldn’t believe that she was still “worried about it”. I resisted the urge, not even knowing the full scope of her trauma, to start yelling at them.
If you take nothing else from this blog, I want you to remember this. I am now 46 years old. The abuse I was subjected to as a child will be a part of me FOREVER! I will never “get over it”. I will never stop “worrying about it”. In my mind, when my defenses are down, I can see that trauma so vividly that I can almost feel it happening again. So, if you are still feeling your trauma, you take the time that you need to feel it, to process it, and to find a way to keep going now that it is a part of your life. It is YOUR trauma, not theirs! I hope you can find a healthy way to get through yours. I’m still trying, and thankfully, still succeeding.
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