Do you know what I hear all the time? Everyone hears it. All the time. Those words, "I'm always here for you, I will always listen." Always. Such a time encompassing word. And what does it mean? It means always, when it's on my time. Think about it. Think about the last time you heard those words. Now, do you actually ever go to that person to be heard, or do you start and then get cut off? Something else seems to always come up. Always is a lie. Always should be replaced with "When it's convenient, and if I feel like I have something to say, than I will interupt you. You won't actually be able to finish a thought. And whatever you say, you are actually wrong, and this is how it is, because I'm the person you are confiding in, and because I am, everything I say is right, and you have to take my advice. Now, what were you saying?" That's what always means.
A couple weeks ago I finally told my mom about all that happened. And the way it happened, is she wanted me to talk to Joyce, a therapist/counsellor. Fine, I thought. I guess it can't hurt any. So I skipped math and my mom, Joyce, and I found a room, and I talked. Kinda. I got a lot more than I usually do, but I felt like I needed to talk more, and I couldn't get the words out. Like Joyce and my mom put a hand over my mouth and told me it's time for the grown-ups to talk now.
So I started this blog to get some of it out, to see if it helps. And I froze. I posted for a couple days, and when I told my mom, she told me it wasn't a terrible idea, but it's not really theraputic. So I kinda stopped.
At my university, they had a couple days where they held "the clothesline project", where victims of any kind of abuse or violence can write on a t-shirt. White t-shirt was for people who died as a result of violence. Yellow- survivors of physical assault. Pink, Red, and Orange- survivors of rape or sexual assault. Blue and Green- survivors of incest or childhood sexual abuse. Lavender and Purple- survivors of attacks suffered due to perceived sexual orientation. Black- for those disabled as the result of an attack, or assaulted because of a disability. Grey and Brown- survivors of emotional, spiritual, or verbal abuse. The colors my life could fall under? Yellow, Pink, Red, Orange, Blue, Green, Grey, and Brown. I chose the color Pink. I wrote on the front. I filled it. And it wasn't enough. I could have covered twenty, thirty, forty shirts and still have not felt finished.
On the t-shirt, I named my abusers, all except my childhood one, because my mother won't tell me. She doesn't want to ruin his reputation. He is a good man. He's repented, it's behind him. It's not behind me though. I didn't even know until that day in the room with Joyce. I have the memories, all of which I have told my mother at least once, and have been told it's just my imagination. Come to find out, each one is real. It may have not traumatized me when I was little, it may have been a game created by my abuser, but that doesn't mean it wasn't abuse, and that doesn't mean I can just brush it off a couple weeks after finding out that all those memories are real, when I have been told continually they are just hauntings in my imagination.
I almost feel like my mother cares more for this man's reputation than my healing. You can't just tell someone they were being sexually abused at 5 years of age, and than say I can't tell you who he was, and expect the victim to just forget about it. They deserve to know. It's not my goal to go and slander anyone. But, seeing as I am the victim, I figure I have a right to know who it was. It's like saying I can't ever say the names of my other abusers, and I can't tell anyone who they were, because that would slander their name and their reputation. It's like saying that if I wanted to go to court, I can't, because that would mean the possibility of sending my abusers, those abusers who molested, raped, assaulted, beat, bruised, cut, demised, and slandered me among other things, sending them to prison for the crimes they commited. Their reputation is more important than being the victim of their villaney for several years and wanting some sort of justice, compensation, SOMETHING for all the hurt they have done.
I really need to talk to someone.
But who to? A crisis help-line? I don't like talking over the phone. I'm much more a over text where I can methodically think out my replies or in person having a real conversation. So, why not my husband? My husband likes having the t.v. or music on, all the time. I can't seem to get it quiet enough for him to listen unless it's right before bed, but than it's too late in the day. So, why not my friends? Most of them don't even know I've been through any of this, and those that do don't really know the full extent of what I'm feeling. They are having enough problems as it is, all of them being young adults trying to find their way in the world too, so I would feel guilty confiding in them. So go to therapy? They are detached, can look at it objectively, and are a great help, right? I can't afford them. My husband and I are living paycheck by paycheck. Literally counting our pennies. Even ten dollars a session is too much. So, the obvious answer is my family, right? No. I've tried. I get started, and I get told that what I have been through is not as great as so-and-so's, and I should be grateful for so many things. I get started and I get told not now, I'm busy. I get started and I get cut off mid-sentence and told about how my confidante's life is so much worse. I get started and than get chastised and lectured and told I'm a terrible, sinful person and I must go repent for my sins. And then I get told "I'm always here for you, I will always listen. You can always come talk to me."
I don't believe you.
My mom is even hiding some of what she found out the day with Joyce from my father, scared of what he would say or do if he found out. Doesn't matter what the circumstances were.
And I'm supposed to be open with you?
.... Yes.
At least, I can here, on this blog. I have a friend, Julie, who told me my blog is a great help for services trying to make people aware of what victims are actually going through, and how they can help.
So, reader, are you enlightened?
Do you understand what a victim feels?
Because I have to tell you, this is the tip of the universe that is what a victim goes through.
And it never ends.
