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Six months

So, we’re at the halfway point between Christmas and Christmas. It’s hard to believe how quickly the six months have passed…and also how slowly they’ve passed. I’m frustrated with how little progress I feel I’ve made. But then I have nights like last night, where I found myself lying awake and thinking about last Christmas. Remembering my mom yelling at me after she told me that she’d disclosed everything I’d told her to my dad, particularly after I’d begged her not to at the recommendation of last summer’s therapist. Remembering her yelling at me like I was a friend who’d betrayed her, or some former acquaintance who’d done something unforgivable. “What do you want me to do? Divorce him? Pack my bags and leave him? He’s my husband!” Last night I found myself wondering why, as her daughter, I didn’t deserve the loyalty and protection she showered upon the man who abused me for years, the man who radiated such joy while inflicting pain on me. So many instances over the past thirty years where I shouted and cried for help and was told to quiet down, to stop screaming. And even if she was going to defend him, regardless of what had happened, why couldn’t anyone in my family support me in the aftermath of the sexual assault and abuse by my ex-boyfriend? They pretend that none of this happened, that I made it up, and any fraction of these events that they’re willing to acknowledge, they acknowledge only as something for which I’m responsible. I should have fought back harder, defended myself better, or just accepted their excuses for their behavior.

I’m not looking forward to this Christmas.

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  1. June 26, 2012 at 1:57 pm

    reading this makes my heart ache for you. this is the first time on here you named the abusers and of course one is the person i was praying it wasn’t. there aren’t the right words to tell you. i honestly don’t know how you can ever come home. you are one strong woman to be able to ever go into your parents house after everything. life is so not fair. *tear* *hug*

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