It's weird reading through previous posts and then sitting here today. I could careless about validation and forgiveness. I feel like an angry child and I hate them.
I had a good therapy session yesterday. I spoke a little (and I do mean little) bit of what had been done to me. Part of me felt good to have some release, as I've held it in for so long. Another part of me felt guilty that I "told". Why, after 20 years, is there still so much shame and guilt. I know it wasn't my fault, yet I feel like I don't have the right to talk about it.
I felt I had to send an email making it clear they are not to contact my children, as last Friday they approached my oldest outside her place of work. That didn't go over well at all. The reply email was from my mother explaining my childhood experiences are subject to interpretation and one sided. Um..hello?!? I, all my therapists, the government, foster parents, and quite a few others interpret it as child abuse. Sexual, physical and emotional child abuse. They've also said over and over again that it's not my fault. There's your interpretation, bitch.
My brother also disowned me yesterday. He was 7 yrs old when I was taken away and he remained in their care. He's "on their side."
I'm an adult. I let my life spiral out of control because I chose not to deal with any of this. At one point I even tried to have a relationship with them after the fact. I had to listen to my mother describe the worst time of my life as "the incident". When I finally realized the level of dysfunction in my family and resolved to sever the ties, there was a big argument about "the timing". Turns out that since I didn't keep a detailed summary of my abuse and the events, I was a liar. For fuck sakes...I WAS A CHILD! DO YOU HEAR ME? A CHILD! I WAS SUPPOSED TO BE PROTECTED! All these years later, nothing has changed. Not one fucking thing. I have to deal with it all. Hard to say which feels worse some days..the actual abuse or the complete abandonment from my mother.
I'm supposed to write my story this week. I haven't even tried to write it out. The words will disgust me. However, letting it out will be therapeutic...or so I'm told. We'll see.