Owning Your Part, Owning Your Story
(Healing from child abuse when the family is still sick)
More than anything, I would like to erase all of these terrible things that happened from my mind. If I could erase some of these memories right now, I would.
But I cannot. Sometimes they come into my bedroom at 4 AM just like the man who lived in the garage did when I was six years old.
If anyone who has untreated child abuse issues, know that you are not alone and I hope my story can help you heal, I’m still a work in progress.
You know who your friends and advocates are when they’re horrified by the abuse that happened and not the fact that you’re writing about it.
My spitefulness and rebellion saved my life a few times so I think there are some flaws that serve you and some you don’t need anymore as you heal and time goes one.
Some of my flaws will always be there. I’m okay with my flaws, some I want to get rid of right now but I don’t know if I ever will. They saved my life more than once.
I’ll never get the apology from my abusers that I want, and I’m learning to live with that and finding healthy people who are good examples of kind and decent human beings.
Looking at my own flaws in the stories I write, why I’m angry and how to let that go have been a big part in piecing back together my psyche.
A big part of my healing is owning my own story and realizing that it takes more than one crazy mother to create this kind of damage, it takes enablers.
Holding those who participated in the child abuse accountable is a really important part of healing because you need to cut loose anyone who can’t apologize or acknowledge their parts in family dysfunction.
My mother’s family willfully looked the other way rather than acknowledge the crimes she was committing against her children and innocent people in society.
They still refuse to acknowledge that something really horrific happened and going to the police with these stories was the right thing for me to do. The people my mother associated with were really dangerous and the FBI has taken over one part of my child abuse case.
My aunts still haven’t called me or given the police a statement regarding what they know of my attackers. It would help. But they have not reached out to me regarding the child sex abuse cases and my uncle Bob has written me a letter telling me to never contact him or my aunt again. This was after I told them the FBI took over my child sex abuse case.
My mother’s family knew of her actions and they had the money to get her the mental help she needed and find us a safe home or placement in a safe foster care. They knew how crazy and dangerous she was before any of us were ever born. My fathers’ family was broken and abusive and lived on the East coast and were not part of our lives.
My mothers’ family was close by and in our lives and knew of her criminal behavior for years and did nothing.
It takes a whole family to enable a woman who created such enormous damage, and I knew the family was sick for a long time but decided to detach when her enablers tried to shame her abused children into silence.
Her family enabled her to create so much more damage than was normal because instead of stepping in and calling child welfare, they were more concerned with people finding out they had a crazy sister. They would’ve had to help her four children or possibly raise them or make the decision to find safe care for them.
My mother’s sister lived with us for years and also her other sister lived a few miles away and visited weekly. They knew and they came from a family with money with a house in Scarsdale and the means to help us yet they chose not to step in and save us from this madwoman.
Watch out for anyone that can’t apologize for horrible behavior or acknowledge their years of dysfunction and/or addiction issues.
We all have ugly things we aren’t proud of that weren’t our finest moment…..but accepting our parts and flaws and trying to do better is different than denying any abuse ever happened.
Telling your niece not to go to the police to report a child sex crime from when she was six years old because nobody would believe her was wrong.
I’m glad I didn’t listen to my aunt when she told me not to report these crimes and tuned into my rebellious nature instead.
My flaws have saved me from more danger than my family ever did.