August 14, 2004

Nightmares aplenty

I always come to write in my blog and think 'hmmm, what to write about today?' I guess it is difficult, since my blog is multi-disease oriented. I try to write a little on this, a little on that....at least something on one of them, or whatever is bothering me the most at the moment. When they all are, what then?

One note, there are some things in this post that could trigger unwanted emotions with someone who suffered child abuse. I don't wish to trigger you. Please stop reading if you feel you should.

There is something bothering me right now. I had a discussion with my know-it-all 18 year old brother. We have different fathers, and his father was my abuser. Since there is 7 years between us, we sometimes have a hard time relating. There is so much he didn't see, doesn't know. He saw my reactions to abuse as a teenager, and that is who he thinks I am. He doesn't understand I had to become a soldier to survive. Hard, no attachments, no feelings.

He seems to think that I was always untrusting of men, always scared. Sometimes I just want to tell him everything. He thinks that our mother is the most blessed of all women. He doesn't know that she would sell our souls so she wouldn't have to feel pain. She sold mine.

He doesn't know that his father was my best friend, until he was born. When he was born, my abuser didn't have to 'play' father anymore, he had his son. I became, overnight, his scapegoat. One of the largest shocks of my life...and I was 7 years old. At 8 I plotted to kill his father. I couldn't do it...mainly because of him. At 14, I knew someone who could bomb the house, make it look like an accident, but I couldn't......because of him. Not to mention the fact that I wasn't sure that homicide was something I could do, but neither was surviving abuse for 10 years. It sure was a great fantasy though....thinking I could get even with him. In the long run, it seems his survival is a more fitting punishment. I remember telling judges that I didn't want my abuser to leave the house...I had lived without a father, but my brother wouldn't. Looking back, how could I make those decisions at 7, 8, 9? He doesn't see that our mother lied to people about what had happened to me. I was threatened that if I told anyone, I'd be taken away, put in a foster home. Did she think that was something I didn't want? She later told me that she'd be put in prison, lose her job, and my brother would go hungry. Did I want to cause all that? There were few people I did tell, and usually it was because I broke down in tears. I told my biological father. He confronted her, and she told him I had lied. Another was two children I babysat for a woman from her work. They confided in me some abuse they had suffered. I wanted them to know that I understood. They told their mother, their mother confronted my mother about why she was still with my abuser. My mother told her that I had lied. Their mother told them that I had lied to them, maliciously. They confronted me one day, and I was in such shock I couldn't defend myself. I quit that job, and their mother died of cancer. They were whisked away to Ohio, I think. They still don't know. Corey and Laura, if you're reading this, I didn't lie. I don't understand why my mother must keep up this image of the perfect family. That didn't happen, so she told everyone it was me...a product of my wild father, no doubt. No, it wasn't her fault, I was just a bad seed. Well, what brought this all up is that my brother said that I didn't belong in their family. Maybe he's right. I'm upset though, because, a product of modern divorce, I don't belong to either family. My father went off and had an instant family of two children and one wife, whose husband had committed suicide, so they needed him as a father. When they hated me for being his 'biological' child, I bowed out. My mother went and had another family. Where did I belong? To this day, I 'm not sure I belong anywhere. I guess I'm getting close to bowing out there too. If she would just tell me why she stayed with him. If she could tell me why the sacrifice of one child is better for the other. If she could just tell me why she decided I wasn't worth her effort.
Why I let this bother me I'll never know. I don't want to tell my brother all that went on. He's already dealing with quite a lot just being a teenager. It is just a matter of time before my abuser chooses another scapegoat. My brother will be leaving soon. That leaves my mother. I see it coming. When she comes to me for comfort, what will I do? The way I see it...I can remind her of how she valued either herself or my brother over myself, and she can now deal with the consequences. Or, I can be there for her. I honestly don't know which I'll chose....I guess it is a matter of how well I've healed by then. If the nightmares continue like they have been, I don't see much healing happening.

If you're wondering what made me write this tonight, I had another nightmare. I was 9 again. My abuser and I had finished putting up a fence in our backyard. (you should see me with the auger - I was pretty pleased with myself! if you want to see what this beast looked like, http://www.stihl.com.au/products/product.cfm?iModelID=345) I won't get too specific at this point, but I shut the gate too hard and a board fell off. He was so angry....to this day, I can't look at weight lifting belts without feeling panic. My husband has one in the house somewhere, but he has to hide it to where I'll never see it.

I still feel like there are other people that have handled child abuse better than I have. Why does this keep bothering me? I understand that not many people still have contact with their abusers, that their mother's didn't stay with their abusers, and that they don't have to live in a pretend world that nothing ever happened when around either. I still feel like maybe I should be beyond where I am now. I know that my family has always told me I should be over it. I always thought that I would decide when I was over it, but when is enough enough?

Neurotics build castles in the air, psychotics live in them. My mother cleans them.
~Rita Rudner

Posted by HeatherLeigh on August 14, 2004 04:19 AM

Posted by: The SilvrPixi at August 14, 2004 04:45 PM