Sometimes, it is as if I have always known.How could I cover up the obvious?And another part did not know anything at all and spent decades assembling clues, fragmented memories, family tree, lapsuses, etc to understand what was wrong with me.
I thought I had reached the ultimate, with horrible flash backs and discovery of my young hurt "parts".
Me, 12 year old, first dead like on the kitchen table, then, "moving" up to the stairs, terrified , last time,two nights ago, "she" was standing by the door, her head twisted in awe.
This morning I had my session with my therapist;I was terrified .He seemed to have contested the truth of my memories last week;So I had prepared my speech,scipt from my father's admission of incest and books which contradict the false memory syndrome and I also took a class photo of me at 12,exactly like the alter I perceive.
To my surprise, he clarified that He had to mention that because I had had several therapists, that memories are easily manipulated but that he had always believed me.He suddenly became very human and shared that he was shaken by my story because He found it hard to be confronted to so much evilness,that as a psychiatrist, he had to admit he was also human and was only capable of hearing so much sometimes.
I showed him the photo, He was very moved;I realised he has a lot of empathy and compassion and tries to do his job in honesty.
I had also brought him my health book which doctors must fill in;mine was empty from the day I departed from the maternity.
And then, it came .
I am always trying to find justification for my mother's actions.He asked:Was she under your father's power?
No, not really.She was under her brother's power;in fact, he was still abusing her after she got married.
There was this myth in our family, the myth of the Russian Count;my great grand mother was supposed to have had a liaison outside marriage with that count and got a child with beautiful green eyes;the truth was less romantic, the Count being her own father.
When I was born, my entire family rejected me;The joke was that my father must be a black GI because of my complexion.
My uncle, my mother's brother was an abusive guy who had been involved in pedocriminal scandals.He ran the scouts, the photo club at church, the canoe outside sports to which I belonged.I told my mother he had abused me but I now can't remember it.It is now fifty fifty about my own father.ADN are forbidden inFrance.
I need to know the truth.There is an uncanny symetry in my husband's and my stories;He was born from rape and then kidnapped from his real mother to live in his father's and step mother's sick home.
My mother refers to me as "shit from the belly" when she dissociates.I am going to try and get her to talk and record the conversation.
I do not know about you, but I have this need to find the truth about my family, peeling of all the layers, lies, myths and trans generation dysfunctionalities, like constantly picking, picking to extract the black heads and pressing the pimples.
Yet, one part of me is relieved to have come to the realisation of the horror of incest and its consequences.Another part would like to move on .
I still have to learn a lot about dissociation.After I was married, my father surprisingly visited us one lunch time, 200 kms from where he lived.My husband should have been in Paris that week like my father knew but was ill My father was very surprised to find him and quickly left;Today I can say that my father had come to abuse me.
I could never say when the abuse stopped, simply because it did not;until I left;i was totally hypnotised, put under the "emprise" donot know the English word, sorry.
I am sharing this for others who might recognize their own story too and give them dignity back.