Posts tagged abuse
I began adulthood when I was five years old. It was gradual that first year, but after my mother got pregnant by my then step-father the learning curve grew steeper with each passing month. By my mother’s sixth month of pregnancy I learned Larry was an alcoholic pervert. By her seventh month, I had learned how to play opossum while being sexually assaulted. By her eighth month, I learned it was my duty to assume the responsibilities she ignored or forgot. By her ninth month, I learned how to take care of a baby because neither Larry nor my mother could be trusted to handle it. I fell in love with David the first time I saw him and I took my role as big sister very seriously. I knew I would protect him at all costs.
The day my mother and brand new baby brother were released from the hospital I learned Larry was also physically abusive and how to rescue them from him. I learned by sheer guy instinct. Larry was drunk and started arguing with my mother. She said something and he threw her up against the dryer and started slapping and punching her. He broke her glasses for the first time. I was screaming at him, trying to distract him and get him to leave her alone. The baby was crying. Mom took off outside to get away from Larry. I ran to David and picked him up; trying to soothe him and stop his crying. I was scared shitless that Larry was going to hurt him if I couldn’t settle him down.
People have told me I was perceptive since as far back as I can remember. At times, my perceptiveness felt like it was its own entity which I had no control over; it had its own voice in my head. Looking back on it, I mostly perceived negative things, but that was likely caused by all the bad things around me. While growing up, I could usually read a man’s ulterior motives in a matter of seconds. I could also see all of the mistakes my mother was making or about to make and part of me hated her for them.
She interviewed four sex offenders, two of which reminded me of the two abusers who caused me the most harm. One was a father who molested his daughter; he reminded me of my ex-stepfather, Larry. The other was a guy who started molesting a younger family member when they were both children. He eventually started raping her as well. He reminded me of my cousin.
I was sexually abused from ages six to twenty, by more than a dozen offenders. I’ve spent more than 85% of my life smothered by the resulting shame and guilt. The sexual abuse affected my capacity to form healthy relationships. I still have been unsuccessful in maintaining a healthy relationship because I fear intimacy and vulnerability. I thought, at their core, that every man has the ulterior motive to hurt me in one way or another.
I’m sitting here listening to Nina Simone and thinking about yesterday’s anniversary; my first miscarriage was 9 years ago. Since then I am always sad and/or depressed on Jan 20th, except this year, which has me a little upset in itself.
I was thinking about it earlier in the week, but I didn’t remember it again until I got off work today. I was standing outside talking to a coworker about something completely unrelated and the realization blindsided me mid-sentence. It was similar to flashbacks I’ve had in the past, except there was no trigger I can identify.
After evaluating the 007 situation, I further examined my relationship with Charlie. It is awkward as all hell for me. Normally, I can avoid the object of my awkward feelings, but the only way to avoid Charlie is to quit my job, or get him fired… That’s right; I fished off the company dock, but I got hooked. I, the queen of detachment, took a sabbatical and my heart was left free to roam in conjunction with chemistry and lust… a fine recipe for an emotional a-bomb.
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