This is a hard word. I never thought I would use it in my own context. I'm a grown man who has just discovered that I did in fact grow up in an abusive home. The thing is I blocked it out. I rationalized it away. And it wasn't until I had sufficient distance in time and space as well as context to recognize it. It didn't come all at once and it wasn't like I completely erased memories. I've always known something was there, but never put it all together. But the pieces keep fitting. And still I keep doubting. It must be something else. Maybe I've invented or dramatized things into this. It has to be me because I've always known I was the messed up somehow. But the therapist or my wife look at me and remind me of facts I've told them. And then they tell me it isn't normal. Then I have to acknowledge it. When I told my story, sticking only to my best memory of the facts the therapist said, "How are you NOT on drugs?"
But still I want to explain it away. And that's when I get so angry that, intentionally or not, those who brought me into the world and whom I had no choice but to rely on would betray such a fundamental trust and create such a malformed creature as me who can't even see what was done to me without trying to blame myself.
But I'm told I can heal. I'm told I can move past this. That the wounds will not go away, but that they can heal into less painful scars.
Part of me wants to confront my abusers. To make sure they know because right now they don't even acknowledge the issue even after I told them. Just pretend it didn't happen. Tell me what's wrong with me again. Tell me how the God you taught me to believe in will just fix me if I'll stop getting in the way. It's a testament that there is a real God that I still have any faith. I still fight the urge to think my parents' berating voice in my head is God.
I have to cut it off. I have been told and can see now that healing is not possible when they can continue to inflict wounds. And I kick myself for being a bad son and dishonoring my parents that made me eat vomit and poured ice on me to wake me up in the morning! How screwed up is that!
And for those who might find this, please understand that abuse does not just mean sexual or beating your kid. It is very much as bad to berate and force and ignore and manipulate until you distort a kid's mind such that nothing will ever be normal for them.
So thanks Mom and Dad and every teacher that stood by and watched me literally have to fight 5 or 6 kids bigger than me to get back into the gym EVERY DAY while they stood by and watched like I was some fight dog. You all f$#+@ed me up! And I have to live with that. I do. NOT you. I hate what you did and I hate you for it. And I hate that even now, my twisted mind longs to forgive and apologize and make it all better. No, YOU make it all better, or die and go where you can't hurt me or anyone else. Maybe there God will have mercy on you to extract from you the very pound of flesh you owe so YOU can start to restore.
God fix us all.
