A bit of a development with my mother. She got fired from her job. I don’t know the whole story, but it amounted to my sister getting suspended for a few days from her school. The school called my mother at work, who screamed and swore, carrying on, and got fired because of it. She now wants to draw disability since she is no longer working.

There has been no news about social services yet. I do hope they hurry up and get my sister out of that situation soon.

I’ve been doing ok. In the last week or so I’ve had to really confront my own sexuality. Part of me has always wondered if I am bisexual. I find women attractive, but the thought of doing anything scared me, mostly because of the abuse. My friend questioned me on it, and to be honest I’m surprised I didn’t faint. I felt lightheaded, my stomach was in knots, I could hear my heart pounding.

I’ve decided I’m not bi though. My friend and I talked for a few hours about it, and I was finally able to remove my mother and the abuse from the equation. Which is always difficult, with anything sexual, if it happened to me because of her, I hated it, even if I secretly like it(in a consensual, adult situation).

That’s the key though I think. The adult, consensual situation in which something arises. Before I was afraid if I liked a certain thing, I was turning into my mother. Which I now know is not true.

I have a feeling that this is something I might always struggle with, it’s hard to shake something like this for good.

I haven’t seen him since I was 6 years old. The day we left him I saw him hit my grandmother in a drunken rage. As we drove away he shouted at us, threatening to kill us all. I moved in with my dad, and my grandmother went to Texas for a while to hide out.

I don’t normally discuss him, I like to tell myself that what he did doesn’t affect me. But it does, and always will. I remember in detail some of the horrible things he did. I haven’t even told my husband about them. His death has been difficult to comprehend. He’s gone, I never get the chance to get closure. Or is death closure? Now that he is dead(he had been ill for some time) he can’t harm anyone else. It saves people heartache. But what is to become of those people he hurt? How do we handle our feelings?

Maybe his death is the closure. A time to let go of all the anger. I’ll never stop feeling hurt and betrayed by him, but since he passed away, I’ve felt my anger towards him slowly subside. Part of it is I’ve always been afraid he would fulfill his promise of finding me and killing me, and now that is no longer a possibility. I can breathe a little easier.

My little sister seems to be doing better. Mother has been nicer to her. We will see how long that lasts. Mother has mental problems, and my grandmother believes she suffers from Antisocial Personality Disorder(sociopath).

She hasn’t been diagnosed, but I’ve been doing some reading and in most ways it was like I was reading a list of my mother’s behavior. One of the behavior’s struck a nerve however: “Promiscuous Sexual Behavior/Infidelity
Promiscuity, child sexual abuse, rape and sexual acting out of all sorts.”

My mother is promiscuous. Or, she was last I knew. Does being a sociopath automatically excuse what she did to me though? Sociopath’s are incapable of feeling empathy, remorse, or guilt.They think that the world is their oyster, and they are above everyone else. Mother has always thought this, and it’s been very obvious she thinks so. Does that mean her behavior towards me, all the abuse, is excused?

Abuse is never ok, but the fact that my mother could possibly be a sociopath changes things. If she was on medication, would she have still done what she did? If she wasn’t a sociopath would she still have touched me? Is she a sociopath, or is she just an evil person?

I don’t think I will ever know the answers to these questions. All I do know is, abuse is never ok, no matter what mental state the abuser is in.

While she’s been sick my grandmother has been cleaning out the trailer she and my sister live in. The trailer is a pigsty, it hasn’t ever really been thoroughly cleaned. My grandmother found three sex toys under my sisters bed. My sister is 11 and the toys have probably been there for years.

I didn’t quite know how to handle the news, I freaked out I wanted to fly back home and “save” my sister. But there is no real proof as to if anything went on, but I cannot wrap my mind around why the toys would be there in the first place. I have no problem with sex toys, I have a problem with an 11 year old having them under her bed. She isn’t old enough to be sexually active, she hasn’t even hit the full throngs of puberty yet.

I found this out a week ago, and I’m still not sure how to approach it. The more I thought about it, the longer I let the news digest, the less it really surprised me. Which is a sad, sad thing.

Mother had been checked into the hospital on Thursday. She woke up with a sharp pain in her groin, but didn’t think much of it. She had the same pain for a few days, and her doctor checked her and said she was completely healthy. She went to work that day and when she went to the restroom she tried to stand and couldn’t feel her left leg at all. She called a nurse(she works at my doctors office) who helped her. One of the doctors there checked her, and sent her to the emergency room. She has 3 large blood clots. One in her groin, and two in her lungs.

According to the doctor, she came very close to dying, if she had waited any longer the clots could have moved and gone straight to her heart, killing her.

She’s still in the hospital right now, and probably will be for a while longer. They have her on blood thinners and pain medication. They have to be careful with giving her an IV in case it causes more clots to form, but as time passes on that possibility grows less likely.

My grandmother told her on Friday just how close she came to dying. She said she needed to “make things right with every single person in her life, including her daughters”. Grandma also told her that she would be calling me upon leaving the hospital to keep me updated(I asked her to). When Mother asked why the reply she received was “your daughter might have kicked you out of her life, but she still cares about you, even though you wronged her an voided the right to be called her mom”.

I was completely floored mother wants to speak to me. She said that it was because she wants to “reassure me” that she will be ok. I said I would think about it, and call back with my decision the next day. The rest of the evening I spent talking with my husband, family members, and friends who know the situation.

I decided to not call her. The thought of just hearing her voice sends chills down my spine. I did say that it was ok if she e-mailed me. I don’t think I will ever be able to hold a phone conversation with her, let alone a civil one.

If my mother was more predictable I might have agreed to the phone call. I don’t see what she wants from me however. I want her to just admit she touched me. That she did something wrong. She won’t. And she never will. My life is better without her in it, and that’s the way it is going to stay.

Recently I’ve been busy, my brother-in-law moved out of the house my husband and I share with his family. We received his old bedroom and now use ours as a computer/living room. I spent all day yesterday taking apart my wardrobe, moving it, putting it back together, then filing it up again. I finally have my own desk again and in one part of it I have books. In moving these books into my desk I found about 6 relating to sexual abuse. Books for survivors. I’ve read a bit of each of them, but I’ve only finished two of them.

In skimming the books I realized something. No matter how many books are written, or how many people read them. They help, but, at least in my case, I still feel like an outsider. Like no one can ever fully understand. Though, truth be told, I don’t always want someone to understand because I don’t want anyone else to understand what that pain feels like.

I had another flashback the other day. It’s not horrible, on the scale of things, but I still haven’t been able to utter it out loud. It doesn’t involve anyone besides my mother and that’s what I find the most disturbing. It’s just my mother, it’s not a stranger or a male relative. It’s someone who birthed me, I share 50% of my genes with this person. No matter how old I get, I can’t wrap my mind around that.

It’s rather funny thinking about this since I just got done watching Shutter Island again. But. I remember when I first started talking about mom, and everything that has happened as a result. I felt like I was going crazy.

To be honest, I still feel like I am sometimes. I wonder if it all happened, what if its all a figment of my imagination?

I know it’s all true, but sometimes I think it’d be easier if it wasn’t. I’m turning 20 next month and I still can’t face the simple fact that my mother doesn’t love me. Maybe she did, at some point.

But how do you get from carrying a child in your stomach for 9 months, to selling them for sex? I can’t wrap my mind around it. I don’t think anyone can ever understand it.

And the fact that I never will understand it drives me mad. I’m not sure if I want to understand something as horrific as that. How did she ever think it was ok? She shows no remorse. She admits no wrong doing. Does she think that she was in the right?

How can you ever argue that? “I think it’s ok to sell my child for sex. And let men fuck her. And record it.” Maybe mom is the one who deserves to be locked up in a mental institution. Whenever I open up to people one of the firsts thinks they say is “That explains so much about you”.

That can’t be said about mom. She’s a pathological liar. She says her dad beat her. He didn’t. He hit my grandmother, and cheated on her. But he never laid a hand on her and or my aunt. She is the one who told him she wanted to flush his ashes down the toilet.

I wish I could pinpoint something that makes me go Ah-Ha! To try and understand it all. But I never will.

People keep telling me I need to forgive her. How can I do that? How do I even begin to do that? Every time I think I’m ok, I slide backwards. I fool myself into thinking that it doesn’t bother me, and that all my own issues that sprung up from it have passed.

But then someone asks me about her, why we don’t speak and I feel like my entire body has weights and I’m sinking. My heart races and my body shakes, when I close my eyes I hear my own voice saying “no I don’t want to do that” and I see her and I can smell her. I feel it. I relive it. Over and over.

How can I forgive someone who affects me in such a negative way?

Things are better though, But I realized in thinking about my martial problems that a lot of them stem from being scared. I scare myself constantly. When I came back I was so scared of not knowing where I will be in a year or two that I wanted to leave my husband. I haven’t gone to college yet because I am scared I’m not smart enough and I’ll flunk out.

My entire life I have scared myself shitless. I’ve talked myself out of doing wonderful things because I was scared. Why am I scared?

I am terrified of being hurt again. Today I told my dearest friend details about a rape I endured at the hands of two “friends”. While that was difficult to talk about, discussing how it makes me scared that even someone I love would betray me was even harder.

When I talk to someone I assess their risk factor. “Is this person trustworthy?” “Do they have the potential to betray me?” I analyze everyone this way. This isn’t healthy. I let fear rule my entire life, all because when I was a toddler my mother decided to use me instead of love me.

A co-worker and I were discussing the issue of child sex abuse, and I told her that I feel it is wrong, no matter what.  She told me that a friend of hers is perfectly fine as a victim of child sex abuse.  Apparently, for her friend, the only time her grandfather was nice to her was while he was molesting her. This did not surprise me, since the only time my brother was nice to me was when he was molesting me.  And then she came out with this: "C … Read More

via Reasons You Shouldn't Fuck Kids

I am faced with a dilemma in hearing this news. How am I supposed to feel? I am concerned that she is horribly ill(partly for myself, as I have been showing signs of anemia as well), but I also feel like she deserves it.

No one deserves to get sick, but in a horrible way, I want her to suffer the same way I have suffered all these years because of the horrible abuse she subjected me to. Does this make me a bad person? I should be taking the high ground, hoping she gets better, but a part of me just wants her to be in pain and not get better.

Even saying that out loud makes me feel rotten. I try to be a compassionate person and not let my anger and hate drive me, but it’ rather hard when the person who abused you and betrayed you is sick.

On another note, I confronted my step mother this week as well. I had driven her out to my eldest step-sister’s house, they are going on a trip and she went to help them pack. On the way back to our house after I picked her up we began talking about D.I.D. (dissociative personality disorder, my other step-sister was diagnosed 2 years ago).

I began to get really angry at my step-mom when we discussed this. I told her that she and my father must have known something was wrong with me when I started to act out in school, I was mean to everyone and I manipulated people and tried to sell sex and myself to get what I wanted. I said that things were horrible in high school, and the reason i turned to drugs and other things was because they never paid attention. I flunked an entire grade(but the private school I was at knew something was amiss and passed me anyways) the year I began to remember the abuse, and my parents just thought it was me acting out and going through another phase. I began cutting that year and I stopped eating, both things my parents knew about but did nothing.

My step-mom has told me she figured out I was deep in drugs and self-mutilation and anorexia but thought that I needed to figure it out on my own because I was an adult and she let me make my own decisions.

I never quite realized just how mad I was at my parents until I told my step-mom how pissed I was. They ignored me because they both suffered from depression. I know depression is serious and it makes you very self-absorbed, but even depressed parents still notice when their child’s wrists bleeds over dinner. I know she noticed, because I caught her staring at it. But she never did anything. The only time in high school that she addressed it was after my grandmother passed away, and I picked up the habit again. A concerned mentor noticed and discussed it with her.

I feel much better that I said all of that to my step-mom. I think it made her cry, but it hurts a lot to know that she knew all along something was wrong and she never got me help, it could have saved me a lot of pain and suffering.