I was molested as a child. It's not a big secret, but it's also not something I wear on my sleeve. If you know me well, I've told you this. If you didn't know before, now you do.
Overall, I think I've handled the trauma well. Like anyone, I've had moments of triumph and despair; made great leaps ahead only to feel like I've regressed; and over time I've been able to subdue the nightmares that used to cause me to have panic attacks in my sleep. Things though have been pretty tame lately. A large chunk of my family abandoned me when I came forward with my abuse, and I received a few death threats, nasty emails, horrible voicemails, and other various threats to my well-being. I'm still here. They're still angry and would probably make the same threats again if given the chance.
I won't sit here and recount what happened in the detail that I could. Suffice it to say that it was terrible, happened many times, and has scarred me in a lot of ways. I don't think that anyone should have to prove themselves by recounting any trauma they have been strong enough to survive; especially when that will likely open them up to ridicule and judgments from people they always believed would be there for them. I learned the hard way that some people just won't support you. And that's on them. I could sit and cry a river about the family and friends that I lost as a result of my opening up about what I went through, but it won't bring them back to me and I just wind up re-traumatizing myself because what inevitably happens is I start beating myself up for ever telling anyone. I start to think that I should have just kept things to myself a little longer...maybe if I waited until more time passed, or until they seemed like they could handle it, or until he died...
Which is what just happened. He died. I didn't cry. I had a panic attack. Can't explain it, just happened. It doesn't even make sense, does it? I always thought that when I got word of him passing I would feel some sort of cathartic release...I'm not finding it. I deserve that much, don't I? Not only did I lose family and friends because of what he did I lost my self-esteem, a bit of my confidence, a lot of love for myself. I deserve something, don't I? If I cry now it is not for his loss of life, but for mine. Like it or not, he killed a little part of me. Robbed me of time, stole my innocence...there's no getting that back. I hate that others will cry at the loss of his life, and I know that's selfish. Those same people who will cry for him are the ones who turned their backs on me and threatened me. I know it may be wrong, but I want them to hurt, even if it is for the loss of him, because I hurt everyday for the loss of me...
Thursday, March 27, 2014
This has nothing to do with class but I needed to vent for a minute...or ten
**Note: I started to write this post a long time ago. It seemed too personal to share at the time, but in light of recent events, I decided to publish it now. Thank you.
I live in a small town. Not just a small town, but America's Coolest Small Town according to a poll this year. Living in a small town has a lot of great perks. Safe streets, great parks, lots of little community based activities, and you get to know loads of people and see friendly faces everywhere because it seems you always know at least one person wherever you go.
One of the quirks of living in a small town is that the people there tend to have great memories. For example, when a woman just up and disappears without a trace, you don't just forget, no matter how many years pass. When this happened in Lititz back in 2002, it stuck with me, but until this past week I had no idea why.
When the news broke that Brenda Heist had been living in Florida the past 11 years and she had left of her own free-will all those years ago, I finally realized why I remembered the story. I never believed that she was dead. I was mad at her. I hated her for what she did to her kids. I grew up with an absentee mother who just came into our lives when it pleased her, which was usually when she broke up with whatever flavor of the month she was dating. Brenda Heist had shown the world just how selfish a mother could be. It was liberating for me to see news articles that identified her as being terribly selfish and narcissistic. It meant that maybe I wasn't the only one with a terrible mother.
No one really ever understood what went on behind closed doors at our house growing up. My mother is still a mess. We haven't talked in several years because the last time we did it did not go well. I cut the communication not only for me, but for my son and family's sake. Like I said earlier, my mother came and went as she pleased and she always left a path of destruction in her wake.
I've come to realize though that I was a bit jealous of Brenda's kids. When she vanished she did it cleanly and quickly. There was no backslide where she came back only to disappear again. She committed to leaving. She should have committed to her family and her kids, but that's another subject. She chose a path and stuck to it, for several years at least. My mother came and went each week like a leaf on the wind. She would just show up, no rhyme or reason as to the day of the week, she may have even made dinner on occasion. But, the evening usually ended in her starting a fight with someone, anyone, and her leaving in a huff, taking along the overnight bags that would just happen to be ready for her to leave.
It quickly became clear that this was her pattern and the rest of us just sort of adapted. What choice did we really have? I remember several times when things got particularly ugly between her and I that I went to my biological father and begged for some help. I didn't know what I hoped he would be able to do, but I just needed someone outside the house to know what was going on and potentially help me deal. He said "I divorced her years ago. This is your problem." When I protested, he shot me down quickly and it clear that I was not getting help from him.
Back to the Heist children. From what I've read, they have no desire to have a relationship with their mother. I get that, probably better than most people. And good for them. Despite everything my mother has done, there are still people in my life who disagree with my severing ties to her. They argue that she is still my mother, and that everyone makes mistakes. I hear what they're saying, I really do. But, as a mother myself, I speak from experience when I say that no true mother tries to break her children. My mother tried to break me, tried to break all of us. Her plan seems to have backfired though, as she is truly the one who has been left broken by her choices. I don't doubt that Brenda Heist will wind up the broken one.
I live in a small town. Not just a small town, but America's Coolest Small Town according to a poll this year. Living in a small town has a lot of great perks. Safe streets, great parks, lots of little community based activities, and you get to know loads of people and see friendly faces everywhere because it seems you always know at least one person wherever you go.
One of the quirks of living in a small town is that the people there tend to have great memories. For example, when a woman just up and disappears without a trace, you don't just forget, no matter how many years pass. When this happened in Lititz back in 2002, it stuck with me, but until this past week I had no idea why.
When the news broke that Brenda Heist had been living in Florida the past 11 years and she had left of her own free-will all those years ago, I finally realized why I remembered the story. I never believed that she was dead. I was mad at her. I hated her for what she did to her kids. I grew up with an absentee mother who just came into our lives when it pleased her, which was usually when she broke up with whatever flavor of the month she was dating. Brenda Heist had shown the world just how selfish a mother could be. It was liberating for me to see news articles that identified her as being terribly selfish and narcissistic. It meant that maybe I wasn't the only one with a terrible mother.
No one really ever understood what went on behind closed doors at our house growing up. My mother is still a mess. We haven't talked in several years because the last time we did it did not go well. I cut the communication not only for me, but for my son and family's sake. Like I said earlier, my mother came and went as she pleased and she always left a path of destruction in her wake.
I've come to realize though that I was a bit jealous of Brenda's kids. When she vanished she did it cleanly and quickly. There was no backslide where she came back only to disappear again. She committed to leaving. She should have committed to her family and her kids, but that's another subject. She chose a path and stuck to it, for several years at least. My mother came and went each week like a leaf on the wind. She would just show up, no rhyme or reason as to the day of the week, she may have even made dinner on occasion. But, the evening usually ended in her starting a fight with someone, anyone, and her leaving in a huff, taking along the overnight bags that would just happen to be ready for her to leave.
It quickly became clear that this was her pattern and the rest of us just sort of adapted. What choice did we really have? I remember several times when things got particularly ugly between her and I that I went to my biological father and begged for some help. I didn't know what I hoped he would be able to do, but I just needed someone outside the house to know what was going on and potentially help me deal. He said "I divorced her years ago. This is your problem." When I protested, he shot me down quickly and it clear that I was not getting help from him.
Back to the Heist children. From what I've read, they have no desire to have a relationship with their mother. I get that, probably better than most people. And good for them. Despite everything my mother has done, there are still people in my life who disagree with my severing ties to her. They argue that she is still my mother, and that everyone makes mistakes. I hear what they're saying, I really do. But, as a mother myself, I speak from experience when I say that no true mother tries to break her children. My mother tried to break me, tried to break all of us. Her plan seems to have backfired though, as she is truly the one who has been left broken by her choices. I don't doubt that Brenda Heist will wind up the broken one.
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