Something big happened last week. Something I never expected or wanted to happen.
I had my story up on my livejournal and I guess I left the room or something without knowing it.... I don't know, I really never do anything like that, it's strange. Anyway, it's been 6 years since my child abuse stopped, and 3 since I was dateraped, and the only people I ever told were my close friends. I never told my parents, never wanted to, I was always scared, but moreso I didn't want them to be affected. It already traumatized me, I thought, they don't need to go through it too. I would just take it so they wouldn't have to deal with it. Plus it was my older brother and I definately didn't want my parents to hate their own son, or worse, not believe me. And the daterape was by my boyfriend who I had over when they didn't know about it, so they would be mad at me and it would be my fault and I just really did not want to go through that, I had already been through enough as it was. Well, as I said, my livejournal was somehow available for viewing one day last week when I left the room and my mother came in. She didn't confront me about it right a way. But she said she went out of the room crying. I went to the Seay Center, a sort of mental institute/rehab for teens struggling with suicide, disorders like depression, or drugs a couple years ago for two weeks because I had shown signs of wanting to kill myself- I had major deppression disorder. That was the first time I ever told anyone about my child abuse, I hadn't even told my best friend, and this was before I was dateraped. They didn't say anything about it, I guess the nurse supervising the group therapy wasn't trained well or just thought it was normal because it's probably common in people there. Or maybe they didn't hear me? Anyway, it never got out more than that, but I had told someone, so it made it easier later on to tell my friends about it. I always thought that was my deepest darkest secret and swore I would take it to my grave. That promise was already broken now, so what was the use in keeping it any longer? Anyway, at the Center I was treated and got on meds, and have had the psychologist they assigned me ever since. She checks up on me every six months. I've been fine. At first it was really hard but it's gotten better and better. But I didn't tell my psychologist about any of the abuse I went through, or anyone besides my closest friends. My mom knew I had an appointment with her a couple days after she had read my story. She brought some things up about rape and such between then, and I suppose I got a teensy bit suspicious, but only subconsously. I didn't think about it twice that she knew. Then at the appointment with my psychologist and my mom, I was trying to explain that I had memory problems and it was annoying, and maybe it was a side effect of the meds I have been on this whole time? Then my mom asks if there would be any reason I would try to forget things, block something out. She asked me if anything had happened to me. Then I knew she knew. Even if she didn't, it wouldn't have mattered. But she did. I couldn't help it at all, it was completely involuntary, my eyes filled with tears and I just stared at her and burst into crying. She looked at me so sadly and sympathetically and said "I know sweety" and started crying and we both got up from our chairs and hugged. The psychologist eventually picked up that I had been molested, and that's a really big thing, well duh it's a big thing, but I don't know, they hadn't done anything about it before! But now it was my psychologist, and I need therapy. I've done a fine job on my own, it hasn't debilitated me at all in my present life, but she said I needed it.
My mom's reaction wasn't at all anything I had imagined. I don't even think I ever even did imagine her knowing. I always knew she wouldn't. But she wasn't mad, she didn't not believe me, she didn't blame me, she didn't hate me. She was completely sympathetic and actually felt guilty for not somehow asking a long time ago, even though there was no way I would ever have told her, especially in years before, when I wasn't even trying to deal with it myself. All of a sudden, everything made sense to her. I was aparently this huge mystery to her before, she could never understand things about me, why I was so angry and sad and stuff- but I hadn't even made that connection, I just blamed all that on the move and changing schools so much and feeling outcast. Anyway, I guess there was a lot of stuff that really came clear to her after she knew, and it was great, like I finally made sense to my mother. Part of our relationship has suffered for a long time, and it really felt like that put it, at least a large portion of it, to a rest, a peace. I didn't want to tell her it was her son, my brother, who did it, but we went to lunch and I eventually told her from her questions. She wasn't scary like I had thought she might be. I'm sure it was weird, but it almost seemed like she wasn't as surprised as I thought she might be. Anyway, it feels so good now. Like I got it off my chest, like I don't have this chip on my shoulder that I've been carrying for what it feels like my whole life and basically has been, half at least. I'm free! I don't have to bury and hide this awful disgusting secret, I don't have to blame myself, I don't have to keep it to myself or my best friend who doesn't know what to do about it other than be empathetic and cry for me and add it to the bitterness and resent she has for men. My mommy knows. A part of my childhood was stolen from me and because I blocked it out I can't remember other things, good things, from it either. Now I will have therapy. And aparently it will help a whole bunch. I'm happy. I'm excited. I'm relieved. I feel like I can breath. I can live.
He's going to be reported I believe, that he did that, just to have precautions that he never does it again. But I know he wouldn't do it again. He was a young teen then, and he hasn't done it for years and now is in love and married. I don't think he would do it to anyone else ever, and I have forgiven him, though never confronted him, and he's just a different person now. He's my older brother and I love him and don't hold grudge against him.
Well, my mom knows now. And I'm going to get therapy. I'm going to get "better" I'm going to get "through this." I'm ok.
She told my dad that I have been raped, but nothing more. I didn't want him to know, he didn't need to. Whats important is now I have the love and understanding and support from my mother I've always needed and am going to have therapy. It's good. I'm glad.
IF YOU HAVEN'T TOLD WHAT HAPPENED TO YOU, DO.
I'm glad we have this support group, and it's needed, but there's no doubt that everyone in this probably needs therapy. It's not an insult or something to be embarrassed about. This shit happened to us, and we need as much help healing as we can get. And it's better than shoving it down to come up later, taking it out on other people or ourselves, or dealing with it in other self destructive ways like addiction.
Thank you for reading what I have to say. I hope it helped. I love you all, you are all my sisters. With help, we are no longer victims, but SURVIVORS.