I begin today's entry with a candidate for "anti-climactic, anti-prophetic phrase of the year":
"Life is hard"
As I said...a winning statement.
This isn't a post pointed at the hardships I endure because of my past as an abuse victim; rather, I find myself amazed and, at times, overwhelmed at the variables that swirl around the healing process. One example: in order to heal, I have to come to a place of forgiveness and understanding regarding my parents' inability to protect me from my childhood abuse. This has proven to be difficult. (Apparently, I'm full of "understatement of the year" entries today).
At first glance, the issue was simple. Parents have one job and one job only, to protect their children, no matter what. Mom and Dad, you failed at your job. You failed miserably. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being excellence, you didn't even register. You reeked at your job. Seriously.
When I look at the situation in retrospect, I can see that there were signs of my abuse that probably should have been picked up on. I was gone from the house, at age 12,13, etc, for hours at a time, with no explanation (or incredibly weak explanations). I lied to them, but I was a teenager...teenagers don't lie well (especially when the lies are layered and there are a lot of interconnecting lies...I was smart, but not that smart). A simple raid of my room would have turned up evidence, I'm sure. Tracing phone calls, following me...I'm certain that I would have been found out.
There is also evidence that they basically knew what was going on. My dad stopped me on my way out of the house once and asked if I was going to my abuser's house. When I answered, "no", he said, "you need to know there are some things I can't protect you from". (insert sound of jaw-dropping here) Whaaat?
So, thinking on this level, there is anger....no, ~rage~. I was 12! See above mention of your one job and your absolute failure to perform that job.
But is that all there is?
Probably not. Looking deeper reveals a tangled mess of variables that may or may not be relevant:
My mom was a daddy's girl and her father died when she was a young teenager. She was left with cold, emotionless mother and no other support. Time to grow up.
My dad was told at age 12 that, "it's probably time for you to get a job". So he did and has worked ever since. Time to grow up.
My abuse start? Age 12. Time to grow up?
If a child is depressed or anxious today, there is help. Mental health is a known, public issue.
Therapy does not have a stigma attached to it. Medications, when necessary, are out there.
When I was anxious and depressed, it was "just going through a phase". This seems ludicrous now, but looking at the past through the lens of today is inaccurate, at best.
My dad was a workaholic who bottled up his emotions. I remember him either being at work (5am - 6pm) or working on the house. Gathering around the ol' kitchen table to talk about our days was not on the schedule
My mom was dealing with her life. 2 kids, housework, working full-time, a distant husband, perhaps?
Both parents have anxiety and depression, admitted in brief glimpses that I've pulled out of them.
My brother, dealing with many of the same issues I did, turned to drugs about the same time I was going through my abuse.
I was succeeding at school and extra-curricular activities, so I'm sure my parents thought that the absence of a complete meltdown meant everything was at least "OK".
And what if they did really "get it" and want to help? Was dad afraid of the effect on his job? Would they have to move? Did they have the money to do that? What about the social network they had built? Would they need a lawyer? How could they prove anything? Would they lose the son that appeared to hate them? What about the stigma? Where do you go for help?
The variables, the confusion, and the time collide to create a reality that is overwhelming. A reality that they were in and they had to choose how to navigate. Do I think that they should have protected me, no matter what? Yes. Can I look at the reality of that time and at least see that, yes, life was hard for them too? Yes.
I've just spent a few hundred words on the confusion surrounding the part of my abusive past that deals with my parents. That's only one tiny part of the whole. Healing and trying to sort through all of this can be hellish, confusing, disorienting, saddening, enlightening, and highlights one obvious truth:
This isn't a post pointed at the hardships I endure because of my past as an abuse victim; rather, I find myself amazed and, at times, overwhelmed at the variables that swirl around the healing process. One example: in order to heal, I have to come to a place of forgiveness and understanding regarding my parents' inability to protect me from my childhood abuse. This has proven to be difficult. (Apparently, I'm full of "understatement of the year" entries today).
At first glance, the issue was simple. Parents have one job and one job only, to protect their children, no matter what. Mom and Dad, you failed at your job. You failed miserably. On a scale of 1-10, 10 being excellence, you didn't even register. You reeked at your job. Seriously.
When I look at the situation in retrospect, I can see that there were signs of my abuse that probably should have been picked up on. I was gone from the house, at age 12,13, etc, for hours at a time, with no explanation (or incredibly weak explanations). I lied to them, but I was a teenager...teenagers don't lie well (especially when the lies are layered and there are a lot of interconnecting lies...I was smart, but not that smart). A simple raid of my room would have turned up evidence, I'm sure. Tracing phone calls, following me...I'm certain that I would have been found out.
There is also evidence that they basically knew what was going on. My dad stopped me on my way out of the house once and asked if I was going to my abuser's house. When I answered, "no", he said, "you need to know there are some things I can't protect you from". (insert sound of jaw-dropping here) Whaaat?
So, thinking on this level, there is anger....no, ~rage~. I was 12! See above mention of your one job and your absolute failure to perform that job.
But is that all there is?
Probably not. Looking deeper reveals a tangled mess of variables that may or may not be relevant:
My mom was a daddy's girl and her father died when she was a young teenager. She was left with cold, emotionless mother and no other support. Time to grow up.
My dad was told at age 12 that, "it's probably time for you to get a job". So he did and has worked ever since. Time to grow up.
My abuse start? Age 12. Time to grow up?
If a child is depressed or anxious today, there is help. Mental health is a known, public issue.
Therapy does not have a stigma attached to it. Medications, when necessary, are out there.
When I was anxious and depressed, it was "just going through a phase". This seems ludicrous now, but looking at the past through the lens of today is inaccurate, at best.
My dad was a workaholic who bottled up his emotions. I remember him either being at work (5am - 6pm) or working on the house. Gathering around the ol' kitchen table to talk about our days was not on the schedule
My mom was dealing with her life. 2 kids, housework, working full-time, a distant husband, perhaps?
Both parents have anxiety and depression, admitted in brief glimpses that I've pulled out of them.
My brother, dealing with many of the same issues I did, turned to drugs about the same time I was going through my abuse.
I was succeeding at school and extra-curricular activities, so I'm sure my parents thought that the absence of a complete meltdown meant everything was at least "OK".
And what if they did really "get it" and want to help? Was dad afraid of the effect on his job? Would they have to move? Did they have the money to do that? What about the social network they had built? Would they need a lawyer? How could they prove anything? Would they lose the son that appeared to hate them? What about the stigma? Where do you go for help?
The variables, the confusion, and the time collide to create a reality that is overwhelming. A reality that they were in and they had to choose how to navigate. Do I think that they should have protected me, no matter what? Yes. Can I look at the reality of that time and at least see that, yes, life was hard for them too? Yes.
I've just spent a few hundred words on the confusion surrounding the part of my abusive past that deals with my parents. That's only one tiny part of the whole. Healing and trying to sort through all of this can be hellish, confusing, disorienting, saddening, enlightening, and highlights one obvious truth:
Life is hard.
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