Incest Survivors Support Group
Incest refers to any sexual activity between closely related persons that is illegal or socially taboo. Consensual adult incest is very rare. Incest between adults and prepubescent or adolescent children is a form of child sexual abuse that has been shown to be one of the most extreme forms of childhood trauma. If you or a loved one is a survivor of incest, join the group...
I wrote this before my mother died. I had forgotten about it but found it the other day while cleaning up some computer files.
It is written in my mother's voice. I guess i have mommy issues as well as daddy issues.
Just sharing I guess.
I saw her again today. God help her. She is so nave. She will be led like a lamb to the slaughter. I cannot help herwill not help her.
I will stand and watch just like so many others. When it is over we will talk about her in hushed whispers. The other children will point their thin, pale fingers at her and laugh smug in the belief of their own superiority. It is her own fault, after all. One brings these kinds of things on themselves
. She will bear this mark, wear this cilice forever. After some times passes she will grow tired of the burning, chaffing, and bleeding. She will throw the hair shirt and cross to the ground letting the crow use of it what she will. She will cover the scabs with honey and silk only to pick at them until her trembling fingertips are covered in blood.
It is not my place to defend her from the onslaught, to stop the stinging words. I will not rub her wounds with scented oils and wrap her in warm blankets. I must do what is true to my heart I know this is her destiny. This is what will make her strong.
I hardly feel my own sores anymore. The time is now. Her fear will ultimately consume her and spit her out of its great maw with a toughened soul.
As I watch I smile to myself knowing that soon I will reap the rewards of her pain.
It is written in my mother's voice. I guess i have mommy issues as well as daddy issues.
Just sharing I guess.
I saw her again today. God help her. She is so nave. She will be led like a lamb to the slaughter. I cannot help herwill not help her.
I will stand and watch just like so many others. When it is over we will talk about her in hushed whispers. The other children will point their thin, pale fingers at her and laugh smug in the belief of their own superiority. It is her own fault, after all. One brings these kinds of things on themselves
. She will bear this mark, wear this cilice forever. After some times passes she will grow tired of the burning, chaffing, and bleeding. She will throw the hair shirt and cross to the ground letting the crow use of it what she will. She will cover the scabs with honey and silk only to pick at them until her trembling fingertips are covered in blood.
It is not my place to defend her from the onslaught, to stop the stinging words. I will not rub her wounds with scented oils and wrap her in warm blankets. I must do what is true to my heart I know this is her destiny. This is what will make her strong.
I hardly feel my own sores anymore. The time is now. Her fear will ultimately consume her and spit her out of its great maw with a toughened soul.
As I watch I smile to myself knowing that soon I will reap the rewards of her pain.
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I feel so dirty and used I was drunk and passed out at a party when I came around some guy was on top of me rapeing me he covered my mouth and told me to shut up afterwards he got up and got dressed and said I better not tell anyone I found my friend and reported that I had been raped after having medical checks and them getting DNA I've taken the morning after pill IAM just so depressed and...
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Upon his departure, he remarked, "I am in many people’s pockets; no one will believe you." Have you ever grappled with the silence that follows sexual assault, where the perceived impossibility of being believed necessitates self-censorship?
You say this is written in your mother's voice. Were these words you wrote two years ago your own attempt to explain your mother's behavior?
Do you think because she was abused (i.e., "I hardly feel my own sores anymore.") that she thought abuse would "...spit /you/ out of its great maw with a toughened soul"/?/
And what "...rewards of /your/ pain" did you imagine your mother would reap?
This sad piece of writing is beautifully written.
xx
SuzA
Suz,
My mother got attention for herself because she played the martyr. She knew of the abuse because I told her. She also knew of the violence. She knew about my brother but told me she didn't want to talk about it.
She did cart me to the psychologists and psychiatrists when the court system, school or doctor recommended it but she spent that time discussing how she didn't understand why I was the way I was and I was her cross to bear. Nothing changed at home. I was the "special" one.
I remember one day I came down the stairs to hear her telling a vacuum cleaner salesman all about my "problem" and how no one knew what was wrong with me.
One Christmas we went to my maternal grandmother's house and I wanted to help with dinner. I don't remember what specifically I was doing but I heard my grandmother whisper to my mother that maybe I shouldn't be using the knife.
I don't know for sure what my mother experienced growing up or how she was treated but she did tell me a story once about when she was babysitting the father came home and was upset about something and he had a gun. He wouldn't let her leave for hours. I am not sure how the story ended. She told me this when I was pretty young and when I asked her about it years later she said she couldn't remember.
I think my mother was depressed and lonely...most likely felt trapped with 6 kids and a miserable husband.
That being said the selfish little girl in me is still angry I guess.
And deprived of the love we need it can turn to anger.
Be kind to yourself and your little girl.
xx
SuzA