Sometimes I Still Get Pissed

Sometimes, I think back to when I was being molested and how things were handled when it all came out, and I get pissed. Really pissed off.

One of the things about growing up in a dysfunctional home is that when you’re in it, you don’t realized it’s dysfunctional. You might notice things that don’t seem right or ok, but when you are little and dependent on others for survival, whatever the fuck is going on is your “normal.” It wasn’t until I was in my late 30’s and seeing a therapist that I understood this.

I didn’t realize how absolutely fucked up my home was when I was growing up, until I was almost 40 years old!!

First of all, I now know that my mother was never really “right,” but I finally noticed her starting to really spin out about the time I was in junior high school. In response to her diving deeper and deeper into mental illness, Dad moved out. My mother was seeing a psychiatrist at the time who believed he could psychoanalyze her out of being bipolar. She was taking no medication.

About that time, my mother’s shrink told her that if she didn’t get my younger, hyperactive, brother out of the house, he was going to drive her insane. So, he was shuffled off to boarding school during the week. He got out. And about a year later Mom went insane anyway.

That’s about the time my older brother decided that it was perfectly fine to rape his sister on a regular basis, sneaking into my bedroom late at night, waking me up, again and again. It went on for a few years until I got pregnant. He had groomed me for years and knew that I wouldn’t tell for fear of getting in trouble. He made me think that it was my fault.

When it came out that I was pregnant, that’s when the shit hit the fan. And what was done about my older brother? Not much. My father put a latch on the inside of my bedroom door to protect me at night from my rapist who still lived under the same roof. Then my father created the biggest secret of my life, which most of my family to this day does not know. The wall of secrecy got so thick that it suffocated me. I was hidden away in shame, in a home for unwed mothers, where I lived until I secretly had my daughter and gave her up for adoption. Stories and lies were created to “protect” me. They imprisoned me.

I gave up my daughter. I wasn’t even allowed to claim her as mine. My heart still breaks for her sometimes. Breaks because I never got to know her, to see her grow, to love her.

Sometimes I get so pissed. Pissed at my father for making us all keep the big secret. The lie. Pissed at my brother for molesting me, for impregnating me, for ruining my perfect young body, for violating my trust in him, and for a life where he has chosen to keep living his lie. His family has no idea. And if I spill the beans, I will look like the bad guy. Fuck.

I get pissed off at my mother for all of the years of neglect and for verbally abusing me instead of being there for me. I get pissed that she wasn’t properly taken care of during the years that I needed her most. I get pissed that by the time she was actually medicated and stabilized for the first time in her life I only had one year left of high school and was out the door. It was too fucking late.

Too fucking late.

Imprisoned by lies.

Shamed into silence.

Sometimes I think it’s a miracle I survived.

I honestly don’t know how I didn’t end up an alcoholic or a drug addict or worse. I was certainly set up for all of that and more. In fact, during the years of hating myself, I dabbled in binging and purging. Couldn’t do it. Spent times here and there drinking too much. It made me sick and I couldn’t keep it up after a while. Dabbled in sexual conquests. After a few months I was done and over that too. I never tried any drugs other than pot, and all it did was make me sleepy and give me the munchies. That didn’t last. I have a feeling that if I’d ever tried coke or heroin it might have been over for me, but I never got my hands on any.

My drug of choice ended up being food. Because of using hypnotherapy to explore the why’s of food, I’ve discovered a lot of why food became my go-to drug. I’ve been able to see how it saved my life when I was little. I’ve healed a lot of it, but I don’t know if I’ll ever have a free and easy relationship with food.

If I had to guess why I’ve survived as well as I have, I’d have to say it probably has to do with my connection to the Divine that I didn’t realize I even had all those years. I never knew how connected I was all the time (and still am). I never knew how intuitive I was from the very beginning. But having my guides, angels, beings in spirit, and God whispering into the back of my head on a regular basis, is the only thing I can think of that kept me here this time.

I was able to hear the Divine enough times to make a difference. I was able to follow my heart when it really counted. That has to be it.

My parents are now both gone. And I’ve done a lot of healing around my growing up with a mentally ill mother. I spilled the big secret to my younger brother a few years ago. And my older brother still lives with his big fat secret, with his twisted head and no sense of self. He has created a life with a completely co-dependent relationship that allows him no room to breathe or grow. Things might look pretty good on paper, but he’s still the same person with a box of rocks for a brain.

He can suck it.

It doesn’t sound like it here, but I’ve actually done a bit of healing around this relationship as well.

Even with that, there are times that I still get pissed.

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28 thoughts on “Sometimes I Still Get Pissed

  1. I can relate to so much of your feelings of not realizing how dysfunctional your family was until you got older and how them forcing a secret caused so many emotions you had to overcome. I’m so glad you are no longer being forced to keep it a secret and that you were able to tell your younger brother. There is a part of me that wants your younger brother to beat the hell out of your rapist. I know that won’t fix anything or take away the pain of you having to go through child birth and loss and the agony of rape and the secret your father tried to keep but seeing him punched in the face would somehow make me feel better for you. You are very brave and courageous!

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    • Thank you so much. When I told my younger brother, he wanted to beat the crap out of our older brother. It took him a while to deal with it. But knowing how much progress I’d made, made it easier for him to be ok about things. It’s only a matter of time before it all comes out. But I want to be in a little stronger of a place before then.

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  3. It really is a miracle that you did not numb yourself out of those memories forever. Instead God is taking the horrible and using you to bring healing to others. Nobody cares what anyone has to say unless they have been through the same pain. You have the ability to pull many out of the dark pit they may be floundering in, just like you are doing. God bless you!
    tj

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  6. “If I had to guess why I’ve survived as well as I have, I’d have to say it probably has to do with my connection to the Divine that I didn’t realize I even had all those years. I never knew how connected I was all the time (and still am). I never knew how intuitive I was from the very beginning. But having my guides, angels, beings in spirit, and God whispering into the back of my head on a regular basis, is the only thing I can think of that kept me here this time.”

    This is me as well…God is the ONLY reason i am still here and healing.

    I would be worried about you if you DIDN’T still get pissed…
    I am so sorry you endured this. It’s heartbreaking.

    Liked by 1 person

    • Thanks for coming by and commenting. I’m glad to hear you’re still here and healing as well. What’s funny for me is, I wasn’t religious or spiritual until about five years ago; and it’s been through the lens of spirituality and energy healing that I’ve done so well.

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  7. My love my love my love. You have been through hell yet you still stand. Your story has helped someone. I’ve gone through similar yet I gave birth and my baby was kept. Please keep up with my stories. There was so much that happened there is no way I could sit at one time and write it down.

    Though I thought I.could just forget about it all get married have kids raise them I’m 46 now and widowed. I am now seeking help. I should have done so long ago because not realizing it the anger was still there and my children suffered as well. My daughter and I are even getting counseling together here pretty soon.

    I keep all of us in prayer. Much love stay strong. Get help if you can. You are angry and probably lose a lot of sleep at night just as I have for years however the ones that caused your hell sleep well. So sad we carry the pain forever. I will definitely keep it posted if the therapy helps me at all. She said it would be worse before it got better. I kind of laughed at her and wondered if she had ever been sexually abused. We live the hell everyday how possibly could it get worse.

    Again stay strong and vent anytime.

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  8. That second paragraph is spot on.Well really, all of it is spot on. I didn’t know about my dysfunction until I was 44! I was one of those typical kids who thought they did bad, horrible things…not that bad, horrible things HAPPENED to her. Once my therapist and I finally figured it out, she said “You did not originally present as a survivor of sexual abuse”. I replied, “I know! My brain was so good at hiding it, even I didn’t know!”

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    • Welcome and I’m sorry you’re part of the club. It’s amazing what beliefs we create so we can survive. Most of my first ten years are still very hazy for me. I have memories here and there, but lots is blank. I hope you’ve been able to find some good help. These days I’m actually doing so much better than even five years ago.

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      • Thank you. Yes, I’ve been blessed with an amazing therapist. Our brain’s survival techniques are definitely amazing. It’s so much easier to blame yourself, forget it happened or minimize it, rather than acknowledge the horror of what really happened. While I’m pleased my brain was capable of flipping a switch and numbing me during the abuse, I wish it knew how to turn it off.

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        • Hang in there- you’ll get there. I bet you’ll make a lot of progress using meditation. Just remember that just by virtue of the fact that you are still here, you’ve made it. You survived!! A few things that fast forwarded my progress were working with an amazing hypnotherapist and a handful of intuitives.

          If you can find someone who does soul retrieval work, it makes big shifts quickly. Shamanic practitioners call it soul retrieval. Some healing practitioners call it other things like Akashic Record healing. What it does is essentially reconnect you to bits and pieces that were traumatized when you were little and have “become disconnected” or are “hiding in a shadow”. When I’ve done the work myself in hypnosis, it seems to hit me a bit deeper than when someone does the work for me. But sometimes, having someone else get you going by doing it for you can be just the jumpstart a person needs. Just food for thought.

          Also, know that trauma is also stored in physical tissues, so doing your yoga and having someone do body work, like massage, helps release it. (Just saw Michelle Pelletier, LMT in Harwich’s site, and she looks great).

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