I'm going to write something later and might like to link to you, but just realized your off-line and can't give me permission. Anyway, there are *many* ways that appreciate your willingness to speak out as a survivor and your sensitivity to fellow survivors. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
To you and to all others I have seen speaking out, and to those who have not yet found their voices...may your path continue toward the goals you desire.
At the time of the first abuse incident (with Riley, down the street) I was coming out of a period of five years during which I was physically beaten up a couple of times a week. Dad was ashamed that his son was apparently a crybaby and unable to defend himself, and wouldn't make eye contact when I'd come home obviously dirty and torn. (not that I could have defended myself against typically thre or four boys punching and kicking, in any case...)
At the same time, you would tell me that the Christian thing to do was to turn the other cheek, and endure it, and not get in trouble by fighting. So I learned early, by 9 or 10, to not talk to teachers or other adults, and to clean up before I got home and to hide it, because otherwise it would be awkward and embarrassing and I'd feel even more ashamed when I got home. I needed a refuge *somewhere*. Your attempts at talking to teachers not only didn't stop the bullying, they made it worse once the kids involved realized afterward that they could get away with it.
And on top of that, Dad is rabidly homophobic, then as now.
So when I was sexually abused, bound and molested by an older boy in the corner vacant lot, I did not want to tell you, because there was a long history of not beimg supported and not trusting either of your responses after I'd been "just" physically abused. And I felt worthless and powerless and weak, all of those things that I knew Dad was ashamed of in me. And that I'd brought this on myself somehow, I hadn't been careful enough. Or that I really was the poor excuse for a human being, the waste of oxygen that my classmates kept telling me I was, and thus I deserved the humiliation and pain and punishment. So I kept silent, holding it in to try to manage things at home, to keep that an emotionally safe environment for me. Even now, I'd be reluctant to tell Dad... given his likely reactions.
I'm so sorry to read about your experiences of physical and sexual assault and your parental non-supportiveness. I can get so pissed off about kids not being believed and supported and celebrated for being who they are. Now more so than usual.
My mother's experience was similar. Molested by a neighbor boy, she wasn't believed, and carried the shame for the rest of her life. I truly believe that it is part of the baggage that she passed to me, all unknowing, because it hadn't been resolved at all before I was born (let alone coming into my own sexuality a dozen years later). Her shame became my shame, though I had no idea what or why.
It is so crucial that we trust our children, yet so difficult at times to be able to believe them. What if they are just testing boundaries? What if they just want to get sympathy, or get out of a chore? But somehow, we must sort the truth from the stories, and do our best to support our kids when they come to us with stuff like this.
You are not a waste of oxygen. And neither is your mom, though I'm sure she's feeling particularly sad and possibly guilty about this. But you, and she, and all of us, are doing the best that we can in each moment. All we can do is play he hand that life deals us, and keep working at making the best of it that we can in each moment.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 05:41 am (UTC)I admire you.
:)
no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 05:42 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 05:45 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 07:47 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 06:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 06:43 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 06:58 am (UTC)(hugs)
no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 07:14 am (UTC)And, thank you.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 12:15 pm (UTC)Thank you.
no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 07:48 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 02:27 pm (UTC)thanks for posting
Date: 2004-08-03 04:15 pm (UTC)Re: thanks for posting
Date: 2004-08-08 07:50 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-03 05:38 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-04 02:17 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 08:26 pm (UTC)At the time of the first abuse incident (with Riley, down the street) I was coming out of a period of five years during which I was physically beaten up a couple of times a week. Dad was ashamed that his son was apparently a crybaby and unable to defend himself, and wouldn't make eye contact when I'd come home obviously dirty and torn. (not that I could have defended myself against typically thre or four boys punching and kicking, in any case...)
At the same time, you would tell me that the Christian thing to do was to turn the other cheek, and endure it, and not get in trouble by fighting. So I learned early, by 9 or 10, to not talk to teachers or other adults, and to clean up before I got home and to hide it, because otherwise it would be awkward and embarrassing and I'd feel even more ashamed when I got home. I needed a refuge *somewhere*. Your attempts at talking to teachers not only didn't stop the bullying, they made it worse once the kids involved realized afterward that they could get away with it.
And on top of that, Dad is rabidly homophobic, then as now.
So when I was sexually abused, bound and molested by an older boy in the corner vacant lot, I did not want to tell you, because there was a long history of not beimg supported and not trusting either of your responses after I'd been "just" physically abused. And I felt worthless and powerless and weak, all of those things that I knew Dad was ashamed of in me. And that I'd brought this on myself somehow, I hadn't been careful enough. Or that I really was the poor excuse for a human being, the waste of oxygen that my classmates kept telling me I was, and thus I deserved the humiliation and pain and punishment. So I kept silent, holding it in to try to manage things at home, to keep that an emotionally safe environment for me. Even now, I'd be reluctant to tell Dad... given his likely reactions.
(hug)
Date: 2004-08-09 04:36 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-09 08:37 pm (UTC)My mother's experience was similar. Molested by a neighbor boy, she wasn't believed, and carried the shame for the rest of her life. I truly believe that it is part of the baggage that she passed to me, all unknowing, because it hadn't been resolved at all before I was born (let alone coming into my own sexuality a dozen years later). Her shame became my shame, though I had no idea what or why.
It is so crucial that we trust our children, yet so difficult at times to be able to believe them. What if they are just testing boundaries? What if they just want to get sympathy, or get out of a chore? But somehow, we must sort the truth from the stories, and do our best to support our kids when they come to us with stuff like this.
You are not a waste of oxygen. And neither is your mom, though I'm sure she's feeling particularly sad and possibly guilty about this. But you, and she, and all of us, are doing the best that we can in each moment. All we can do is play he hand that life deals us, and keep working at making the best of it that we can in each moment.
(hugs)
no subject
Date: 2004-08-04 10:04 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2004-08-08 08:29 pm (UTC)