You have probably somewhere at some point seen or heard, quotes, people say, generally people or ‘Derps’ think that the first stage of healing is forgiveness but I;
I will probably never forgive the Villain.
I had one of those intense shower sessions, not the sessy kind but the kind where I sit in the corner of the shower feeling sorry as shit for myself with my head bowed, overpowered with anger and despair about my relentless abuse yet again. The fact that while I sit defeated on the shower floor watching my daughter play with lego’s, he is sitting in his elderly mother’s home having a cigarette for breakfast in his navy blue dressing gown with the white piping and drinking his morning coffee, you know like a normal person.
I glanced up looking out from under my short wet hair at the water droplets staggering down the glass:
“I thought I was getting better?”
I watch those drops stagger, fall and sail down the glass so effortlessly, hoping that one day this, all of this, this ‘problem’ this ‘disease’ we call sexual abuse will one day too stagger and fall into a drain. Reality tells me it won’t, it will never fade away and it will never not be an issue for me. That is an irritating thought.
The effects of sexual abuse is something like a disease for the survivors, it might kill you, it might not and in the meantime you can only treat the symptoms and live with it just like anyone else does. Some days wishing it was terminal so eventually it might take you away from the pain at any moment giving you the release that you crave so much. Treating the symptoms doesn’t last long enough and you have no idea what or when they might be set off once that mindset you have adopted so lovingly temporarily and begrudgingly stops working. Then you are left to suffocate in the thoughts and writhe in the shallows of your own self disgust like a fish gasping for air in a rock pool.
My soggy haired daughter ‘Little flea’ plops herself on one my knees and places an arm around my neck smiling and she says “My hair all wet mum, from the water” Yes daughter, it is. Simple as that. Her biggest issue is that the water has wet her hair meanwhile her mum sits like a soggy mess and wishes for the anguish inside to subside so she can muster the energy to get herself off the shower floor, I don’t get up, and I stay there sitting in a pile of numb.
I felt this downpour coming for a few days, it’s been weeks since I felt like this but I felt it coming and I feared it. The numbing sadness I had grown so used to missing was rearing it’s ugly ass and I knew it wasn’t far till I deeply engrossed in it again..
The first pour of doom was when I saw the Villains eldest son, in his car when I was turning the corner on the way to the gym, I froze and my chest instantly tightened.
One step, two step, almost the whole way there…
The last downpour of bigger doom was when we went to the video store on Sunday, you know like we used to when we were kids way back in the day? We wanted to give the kids the experience of like actually visiting a store with the excitement of picking your own DVD. Batman and I hired a Ryan ‘sexy’ Reynolds movie called ‘The Captive‘ we didn’t know what it was about till halfway through when we discovered it was about a child porn ring and how his daughter was taken and spends her childhood as part of that ring. Something as small as this, will set me off, my mind will unknowingly spur into thought patterns, almost doing it behind my back and the next thing I know I am plonked right in the middle of a sad raining empty music festival in a wet paddock filled with empty beer cans of death.
We should have stopped watching, I wish now that I had stopped watching, Batman wanted to turn it off but I was stubborn and refused to let it beat me despite the warning signals my body was giving me. I felt physically sick and shaken and I refused to let Batman see that, especially after he wanted to turn it off. Such a great quality of mine, stubbornness. Like a glass of fresh salty water.
This is where the unforgivable part begins:
So now I am spending this day forcing the anxiety away, forcing myself to remember how far i’ve come and the strength it’s taken me to get here but some days that really just isn’t enough. Somedays will be awful, I will be awful and trying to keep sight of the bigger picture is harder than it seems, even just for people without abuse that can be hard.
I have to spend the day forcing myself to enjoy the kids and I will and have failed miserably. I yell, I huff and I blow their cheery little houses in, I’m upsetting them and myself in the process. Mum fail. Trying to be tolerable about the fact I have to help my daughter pee every 5 minutes, spending my day without showing my irritation that someone asking me to do one more thing for someone that isn’t me. Mum fail. The kids fights, the constant “mummy help me, mummy I need a poo but then no poo, mummy I’m hungry (a fucking gain) mummy, mummy, fucking mummy” all day long.
Being a mum on these days is the hardest thing I have to do, the hardest thing I will ever have to do. When all I need and all I want is some time to sit alone and grieve, cry in my own self pity for part of a day and I can’t. The guilt of not being here and present with my kids, being there for them throughout this day is the worst guilt of all.
I will never be able to forgive someone for something they did to me that some days crushes me to the point that I can’t be there for my children in the present day, sometimes this just breaks me to the point of tears and this can eat me up just as much as the abuse. But that doesn’t make the day go any better, it’s a cycle, I feel shit, I feel sad and angry, they annoy me more because I am already low, they feed off my bad vibes and act accordingly, so on and so on.
Like a pretty unicorn carousel without the pretty unicorns.
This abuse not only has caused ripples in my life directly but is rippling out through to my Batman my biggest supporter, my family, my children, the most innocent. My children, who were not even there, who will never know the life once had, my children who are nothing but bystanders watching my pain.
How does this change the people they are?
How can I ever forgive the Villain for that?