Part III: Surviving Sexual Abuse ~ The Story Left Untold
December 2002 - June 2003
Here I have come to tell a tale -
A story I have not told.
It tells me that it means no harm,
It is just a tale of old.
Countless times I have told it, "No," -
Begged it to go back to sleep.
Still it comes crying in the night,
Woefully now it must weep.
No longer can I hold it back -
It tells me that it must speak.
Quietly listening here I sit,
For this story makes me weak.
~Kylee Jones
12/27/02December 27, 2002 2:48 AM
It's funny that the abuse initiated by my grandfather started all of this, but it is not the one that plagues me now. I have said that I have been through all of this before, and I have - in a way. The first incident of abuse played like a movie in my mind 24/7 once I entered high school. However, the two incidents with my cousin (that until now, I have always thought to be one) seemed inconsequential for some reason. When everything in my life fell apart, and I began counseling, the focus was more intensely directed at the damage my grandfather had done because it was plaguing my mind. The other fell into the background because it did not seem to have caused a significant amount of emotional trauma.
When I went to counseling, we - we being my counselor and myself - decided that more emphasis had been placed on the first event because it was with my grandfather. He was an adult. He was supposed to protect me. He knew better. We thought that the other "incident" had not caused as much trauma because my cousin was only a teenager - which in my mind meant that she might not have known how wrong it was, she may not have even understood it was wrong. What she had done could be excused, forgiven, or dismissed in some way.
Yet, now I am beginning to wonder if the first incident came to the surface because it had caused the least amount of trauma. The other two incidents were more invasive physically and emotionally. Maybe that is why the images and emotions have only recently begun to haunt me.
After counseling, the images of what happened with my grandfather faded. They are no longer memories that haunt me. Every once in a while an image will flash in my mind, but for the most part it is more like a written story now.
However, I am beginning to see the other images with greater frequency. I hate these images more than the first ones. They make me feel nasty. Sometimes they lay dormant, and I can forget about them for a while. Then they wake up and surprise me again. They just pop into my mind without any warning and send me for a loop. I wish I knew what made the other ones fade away - then I wouldn't have to see them anymore.
I feel that if I talk about them I will get in a loop, as so many do. I don't want to be constantly traumatized by obsessing over them. I just want them to fade into the background of my life. I don't want to hide them or make them go away. I just want them to fade into being a part of me.
Maybe that is the problem. They are a part of me. It is a part of me that I have not accepted. I still try to hide them because they are so shameful to me. I don't want anyone to know about those because there is something so much deeper in them than the other ones. My cousin involved not only my body, but she involved me. I was forced to participate. That embarrasses me.
December 27, 2002 3:14 AM
I guess it takes time for the truth to come out sometimes. We bury it deep so that we can go on about our lives like nothing ever happened. Yet it is always there. It comes to the surface at times, but we ignore it because it would destroy the world we have built. We do not want anything to touch the world that protects us and keeps us safe. Yet the truth remains. It cries out to be heard, and the more we try to lock it away, the harder it pounds on the doors of our hearts.
The images that have plagued my mind as of late have been crying to be heard. They wanted to speak to me, but I just wanted them to go away. "Go back to sleep and leave me be." That is what I would say. I'd turn my back and walk away, only to be faced by them again.
They only wanted me to say one thing - to say that I am ashamed. They wanted me to admit that the things that I have tried to lull into a never-ending sleep were the things that had hurt the most.
But, where does the road lead from here? I am embarrassed. What happened brought me shame. I know it was not my fault, but still it makes me feel nasty inside. I mourn the innocence that was lost - innocence that was stolen. I am angered because someone took advantage of my curious questions. I have faced it. It is there. There is no more hiding my secret shame.
So now what do I do now? Cry?
December 27, 2002 10:33 AM
"...the other 'incident' had not caused as much trauma because my cousin was only a teenager - which in my mind meant that she might not have known how wrong it was, she may not have even understood it was wrong. What she had done could be excused, forgiven, or dismissed in some way."
Is it possible that in excusing her and taking away her guilt, I felt I was able to release my shame? Is that why these images come to me now? Was it really that the memories could sleep if I could somehow excused her actions? Did I feel that "forgiving" them would make them less vile?
It seems that I did this with my grandfather for years. I lived in a cycle that bounced back and forth from periods of flashbacks and intense feelings to ones of "forgiving & forgetting." I felt I needed to forgive him in order to move on with my life. If I did not let go, the memories would hold on to me. Every time that I "forgave", I would feel a sense of relief - for a while. However, the images would always return, and the feelings only grew stronger with time.
When I went through counseling, I was finally able to let him be responsible for what he had done. Somehow, I came to understand that I could not truly forgive if I never allowed the blame to fall on the person who had hurt me.
That seems to be a theme with me. I do not want to blame anyone. If I do, I feel like I am saying they are a bad person. At the same time, I have to take in a new kind of pain - the pain of not being worthy of respect, honor, and love in that person's eyes. Instead of feeling that someone is bad or that they did not care, I take it all into myself. I absorb their guilt instead of allowing them to hold it themselves.
I know this. I knew this. I cannot count how many times I have been told this. Yet, it is still probably the hardest thing for me to do. I have a deep need to believe that others are good. I don't like saying that other people are "bad". I feel as though I am deeming them unworthy or worthless. Instead of saying that someone else is, I would rather believe that I am. Yet at the same time, I do not want to feel the pain of being worthless.
It is easier for me to believe that no one could care for me than to believe that I could not care for them. I feel that I am a terrible person if I do not care for others. When I give their guilt back to them, there is a place in time that I do not care for them. I do not like them. I am angered by their actions. I am hurt, and I do not want them in my life.
I hate that feeling. I do not feel justified in having it. When that feeling comes to me, I feel like a horrid creature for feeling that I have been "wronged." I know that justification comes with owning your feelings - making them a part of you and accepting them, even if you do not like them. Yet I do not feel that I have a right to be justified if what I feel is wrong. I guess I am afraid that if I take these things into my heart, they will turn me into a cruel, unloving, uncaring person. I think that is my greatest fear - that I would cease to love others.
Thus, I am torn. I feel that I must choose between two things - loving myself and loving others.
A question comes to my mind:
Is it more compassionate to take someone else's guilt than to allow them to suffer your anger and pain?
June 28, 2003
The memories still linger, and I only wish that I could rid myself of them all at once. It would be so nice to just forget that they exist, yet I know that to forget them is to let them seethe in the dark. They will only grow stronger with time. For this reason, I must confront them if I am ever to move on.
I have come to find in recent months that there were two incidents of sexual abuse by my cousin. Previously, I had always thought them to be one because there were so few details that I could remember. Many therapists say it is important to remember these things, that it will speed recovery and the integration of the abused self. However, the fact that I now know it happened twice, and I can remember more only makes it worse.
Now I fall back on something I learned long ago. It does not really matter how many times it happened, or what happened each time - as long as I recognize that it did happen. I do not have to dredge up "repressed" memories or clarify the details of vague memories. Reliving each event will not make it better, it will only make revictimization inevitable.
If I am willing to accept this part of myself - no longer hiding it in the dark - the memories will continue to fade away. Acceptance is hard, but it is crucial to healing. If I try to deny the existance of abuse or it's impact on my life, I will be lost to it in time.
I have spent too many years of my life lost to the pain of the past. I have spent too much time trying to lull the shadows back to sleep - begging them to once again take their place in the dark.
I will not continue to live this way, so I must meet them where they are. We will not talk of the things of the past, for in that there is no release. I will, however, tell them that they are a part of who I am and ask them to forgive me for hiding them in shame.