Tags
Surviving
Survivors are brave souls. Survivors who bring their stories out of the darkness and share them with the world are among the bravest. Sweet Misery Love is demonstrating that strength and courage by sharing her story here. Sharing these stories is vital. It is in the sharing and the telling that shame and guilt are shed. It is a salve for the wounds of other survivors. We are so grateful that Sweet Misery Love is willing to do that here. -Gretchen
My childhood wasn’t sunshine and roses. At an early age, I was abandoned by my mother, who couldn’t handle real life and turned to bars and all the wrong kinds of attention from men. Just like her mother before her and just as I would do later. A legacy of self-destruction and dependency, what a gift. It made me a survivor, though.
While my mother was in a bar somewhere, I was raped by my caregiver’s adult son, a man I loved and trusted like a brother. I was five, and when I told his mother, she assured me it was all my fault, she said that if I ever told anyone I would get in big trouble. And wasn’t she the best, not punishing me for being naughty?
So, I didn’t tell anyone, not intentionally. These things have a way of bubbling to the surface, though. I spent months in therapy and court, recounting with dolls and stories what had happened. The retelling was worse than the act itself, like I had to defend my position as a victim, at six years old. The shame of being that girl, the one who was raped as a child – I held onto that for a very long time.
You can’t look at me and decide that I was a victim of child rape, though. You can’t see the scars from the punishments that followed for telling the truth. You wouldn’t look at me and my mom now and think that she’d basically abandoned me for half of my childhood, leaving me with family and friends who never kept me as safe as she should have.
When I was 12, my mom met my step-dad and she started being a mom again; this guy, unlike those before him, was older than her and had five children of his own. His oldest son, I’ll call him Trey, was trouble from a young age; he was a handsome charmer with icy blue eyes and an easy smile.
Trey and I had both seen our parents go through several relationships with nothing ever panning out, we were home alone a lot and it was boring living in farm country – miles from civilization with nothing to do. Proximity and hormones led us toward each other. It was a short-lived exploration.
I went through some rocky teen years, graduated high school and when I got to college, something in me finally snapped into place. My university was exactly where I was meant to be – it fit me as a human being, a humanitarian, a lover of people and beauty and kindness. I was able to thrive, finally. I made friends and gained confidence. College was a healing experience for me.
After college, like most young graduates, I moved back home to get my feet under me. I found a job and Trey and I decided to be roommates to save money. Fast forward, about 6 months into living together: I had just finished an almost 70-hour week of video presentation production, I’d broken up with my boyfriend two weeks before, and I had a 6-pack in the fridge. Trey was home, so we had some drinks. We joked about when we were kids and used to make out, and somehow things led to the bedroom.
As our clothes came off, I sobered up and realized that this couldn’t happen. I told him to stop, that I didn’t want to, but he didn’t listen. I tried to push him off, but he got rough. Trey had a history of violence, a short temper and strength. I had a history of being abused. The damage was already done, so I swallowed back my tears and told myself it was just sex.
I told myself that for six years. I bottled up my anger and sheltered myself from within the heart of a storm made of rage and hurt. Following that incident, I started dating a much younger guy – someone who would come to love me, despite my brokenness.
For six years, I didn’t tell anyone what had happened with Trey, what would have been the point? I felt all the shame, though. I felt dirty, like I was a five year old girl again, being told I brought this on myself, even if no one was saying the words this time.
I punished everyone around me with my bitterness, my disappointment in myself, my anger and hurtful words. I pushed people away, hid behind how busy I was with newborn twins who were later diagnosed with autism, giving me a pass on family gatherings that I took with growing guilt.
I blamed myself. I should have known better, right? The blame, guilt and shame were all part of why I didn’t say anything. But mostly, I knew what it would do to our family, and after 14 years, they were all my family. Him – he was my brother.
Where does a family go from something like that? It was just easier to keep it to myself, to not tell anyone; until it wasn’t.
Two months ago I told my significant other, after a nasty, manic break-up. Then, I told my mom. And I told them I didn’t want to tell anyone else. I left it up to my mom whether she discussed it with her husband. Letting it go, giving it to the universe, so to speak, was like being freed from self-imposed prison. Two weeks ago, Trey was released from actual prison.
The thing is, Trey is still my brother – our relationship is just damaged. One night changed the course of who I would become, but ultimately, it didn’t change too much for the worse, did it? If it weren’t for that night, I wouldn’t have moved in with my friend, met her cousin, had his babies. That night led me to exactly where I’m meant to be now, just as every moment before it did.
That night is a perfect example of how Trey is, yet again, getting away with his crimes against women. I wasn’t the first woman whose pleas went ignored, and who is to say that I’ll be the last? But what do I do about that without putting a rift in our family?
That night brings up a plethora of emotions for me, and the idea of seeing Trey, of going to family affairs and pretending, as I’ve already done so many times, that everything is okay, makes me physically ill. I literally threw up after my mom called to say he was being released, and that he was staying with them. I fought back tears as I did my grocery shopping. It wasn’t this anxiety-inducing to see him before anyone else knew, so why is it now? Where do I go from here?
I’ve always had to be strong, so I guess I’ll just keep doing what I know: I’ll work to heal myself and if I can, those around me. I’ll take life one day at a time, not looking back except to be sure I don’t repeat my mistakes. I’ll keep surviving.
Sweet Misery Love is a mother, a daughter, a lover and survivor. Writing is therapy, it’s the way she works through the chaos in her mind and soul. You can find more at sweetmiserylove.wordpress.com.
Reblogged this on .
LikeLike
This is a courageous, heartfelt story. Working to heal yourself and those around you is all that you can do, and I hope that you are able to find peace. Thanks for sharing it with us.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks, Hussy!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, focus on staying strong and healing yourself. I want to thank you for sharing your story here. I am still haunted by your six year old self feeling like you had to defend your victim status. The shame of being abused is horrible enough, but to feel like you have to PROVE it is appalling.
You are a survivor and you are strong and I hope that telling your story here today gives you even more strength. *hugs*
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you, Gretchen. I think letting go of the ‘victim’ mindset and being a survivor, instead, is going to make healing much easier.
LikeLiked by 1 person
You ARE a survivor. Thank you for sharing this story here. I know you’re not alone in hiding this kind of abuse. It happened to someone very close to me. Both of her brothers raped her from the age of 12, yet she still goes and visits them, pretends everything is okay because it was so many years ago, and they’re good men now. So she says. I refuse though. I won’t allow my children anywhere near them. I understand your hesitation in going to family functions. That is in your control. He can’t take that away from you. He’s already taken enough.
LikeLiked by 2 people
He wants to talk; I don’t mind that, but I don’t know what to say to him. I’m still working through my own thoughts on the matter. If, as in your friend’s case, it had happened multiple times, it would be a completely different story…I can’t even bring myself to call what happened ‘rape’, though.
Thank you, for your kind words and encouragement.
LikeLike
This took my breath away. I’m inspired by your resolve and tenacity. You are the epitome of what it is to be a survivor, and your courage, sharing this here with us, is admired and appreciated more than you know. THIS will help someone; I know it. Carry on, warrior. xo
LikeLiked by 1 person
As much as this was a selfish endeavor – I will feel incredibly blessed if my story helps someone else through a tough time! Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
I’m shaking while I read this, I want to hold and protect that little girl you were. Thank you for being so courageous to share your story here today. You encourage me to be brave and share my own someday …. My heart hurts for you and yet it fills with love and pride that you’re surviving, and will continue blossoming into that butterfly you’re meant to be and soar high, away from all this pain and misery. Much love to you on your journey.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Oh Jsack ❤ I was shaking while I wrote it, while I edited it, and when I hit the share button – but in a whole different way. My boys will help me heal, and they're my door to helping build a better future. I will raise young men who respect women, who take care of their fellow humans and have compassion for more than just themselves. Much love to you, too, dear!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes you’re incredibly brave and the blessing in all of your survival is to raise your son’s to love and respect women and themselves. I’m so happy you wrote this, the path to your healing has begun. All my love, respect, and prayers to you on your journey. 💞💓💗
LikeLiked by 1 person
As a child abuse victim, I realize how difficult it must’ve been for you to write this, the misery this would’ve caused you. I still can’t bring myself to do it.
But the thing is, I’m glad you wrote this post, because people only see you as the broken little girl you were and the healed, whole woman you are now. Nobody really gets the hell you go through to get to this point. And they need to know.
To be honest, I really needed the catharsis too. Thank you, and god bless you and your family.
LikeLiked by 2 people
This piece was nearly twice as long when I started as it is now; I laid it all out, completely raw – the Sisterwives helped me refine it into an easier-to-swallow pill, but it was a cathartic experience for me, as well. I’ve been writing about it since college, which is part of why college was such a healing experience for me. Sometimes, it just helps to let it out, even if you end up with a mess of words on the page that don’t make sense to anyone else. Bless you, and I hope you find some healing and peace, as well!
LikeLike
No matter how dark my thoughts turn on the outlook for a species, as we spiral into a self-created storm of misery, hate, indifference, neglect…, it is people like you, survivors, who give me hope that perhaps we can keep ourselves from disappearing into an abyss after all.
Thank you for sharing your story. Thank you for surviving. Thank you for giving me hope.
LikeLiked by 2 people
The world is a sick and broken place; it will take the survivors of that brokenness to heal it to its potential glory. Thank you for reading my story and finding the hope there.
LikeLike
There are reasons why people stay quiet, because of the pain, but going forward the best way to prevent these things from happening is to be open, to write and speak. We all must remove the shame and stop these repetitive cycles. Simply brave.
LikeLike
Your story will definitely help countless others. Keep writing to heal. I can’t help but think some of the recent anxiety, trauma regarding the brother is probably also re-living your childhood trauma. I’m so sorry you have suffered at the hands of those who should have been protecting you.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you. It means a lot that my words have and will continue to touch people, that’s all I’ve ever wanted – whether it’s my story or others’ stories (feature writing was my favorite part of being a newspaper reporter – getting to hear others’ tales, to write them in a way not everyone can – it was special).
LikeLiked by 1 person
I hate the way that broken relationships left little-girl-you so vulnerable, and I’m SO angry about that woman who behaved so awfully towards you when you disclosed about her son. I can only assume that she was entirely lacking in any higher feeling at all, and *I* am feeling distinctly uncharitable.
Things seemed a lot more blurred when you explained about Trey, but no still means no, and I’m appalled that the system hasn’t been able to lock him away for longer. But I don’t trust the system – I’ve seen it fail too many, too consistently, and I hate that you’re back in a place of anxiety and wondering if you’ll see him.
I think if I knew you and we were friends, I would advise you not to go to any family gatherings.
I’m so glad that you have your children to focus on, and it sounds as though you’re acutely aware of the things which made you vulnerable, so you can use that knowledge to ensure as much as possible that they know how NOT to be.
Keep surviving, and thank you so much for sharing your story here.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you for taking the time to read it and to comment.
I am fiercely protective of my boys – because of my past, but especially because they’re special needs and have no concept of danger and no way to tell me if something happens. They are so purely innocent and full of love that it melts my heart, but it makes me fear for their future – I know I can’t be there at all times to protect them.
I’m not sure if the family noticed that I was at more family gatherings while Trey was in jail or not, but I was – and that will once again stop. I miss that part of my family, though – my sisters and nieces and nephews. I would never ask them to choose between their biological brother and myself, though, which is why they’ll probably never know what happened.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Such a painful situation. I wish it could be fixed somehow. Sorry I haven’t anything constructive to offer, but I do hope that your boys stay safe and that they learn at some point how to protect themselves.
I admire you hugely for your determination.
LikeLiked by 1 person
…… I’ll take life one day at a time, not looking back except to be sure I don’t repeat my mistakes. I’ll keep surviving….
By telling your story, you are liberating yourself, freeing yourself, & giving other victims permission to to the same.
thank you.
Love from Minnesota. xx
LikeLiked by 3 people
Everyone deserves to have their voices heard; I’m so thankful that the Sisterwives gave me this opportunity to share my story. Sharing it and simply writing it are two different types of liberation – when it was just sitting in a word document on my desktop, I didn’t feel like I’d let it go. After I was contacted about my submission, while I felt extremely anxious, I also felt like a weight had been lifted off of my shoulders.
Thank you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
The constant banging back and forth between the cruelty of some people and the strength of others, mixed with a feeling of helplessness to do anything real to help, is making it difficult for me to come up with things to say here.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Art, you being here and reading and commenting IS help. I get the helpless feeling, but you showing up is comforting.
LikeLiked by 1 person
yay
LikeLike
I appreciate you even reading it; it’s not an easy subject, it makes a lot of people uncomfortable and they feel helpless, it’s a natural reaction to the horrifying things of which people are capable. Having lived it, being stronger for it, and then being able to let it go through my words is enough for me. The comments thanking me for writing it, praising my strength, those are a bonus.
LikeLike
Well I do thank and praise you, so… uh…
LikeLiked by 1 person
The person who I hope this helps is you. Statistics tell us that once a person is a victim of violence they are more likely to be victimized again. You are a victim. The people who should’ve taken care of you didn’t. A rapist is a rapist no matter what relation they are to you. You deserve better. I hope you are getting support from a professional. It’s easy for us to say what you should do since we’re not living it. But, one thing I would want you to know – you are not responsible for making sure there is no family rift. My heart goes out to you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
I am a survivor of sexual abuse by my father which started before I was 3 and continued for several years. I had no memory of it until I was in my 30’s. It was horrible to face but helped me realize why I had made such terrible decisions in my life. We, in my opinion, are broken people. Yes, we heal but never to to be what we once were. I stopped the cycle of abuse as have you and that is such a gift to our children and their children and so on. I always feel that through those not quite healed places, a light that helps heal others shines through. Your story is one of those beautiful beams of light. Shine on!!
LikeLiked by 1 person
We can only move forward, be the change and keep trying to do better.
Thank you.
LikeLike
This is a heartrending story. I wish you good luck with the work you’re doing to heal yourself. Take care. 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
As a survivor of abuse myself, I can relate to your words.Never give up and keep on being the strong person that you are. Being a survivor, is just as hard if not harder than being the victim; especially when there are times we (the survivors) sometimes still blame ourselves. Like you, writing was the start of my healing process and I have a wonderful support group (my wonderful husband and children.) I hope that you have found/or find that inner peace that will help you to grow stronger everyday and learn to trust again. If you ever need someone to talk to I have no problem giving you my contact information. As a wise person once told me; broken can be repaired (not necessarily fixed), the hurt and pain can be replaced by love and happiness and trust; although not easy or given freely, can find its way back into your life. I wish you the best and am here as a supporter, listener and a survivor who found there way back willing to help should you ever need me.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you. I have a hard time having a conversation on the topic, since I tend to lose my words when distressed or otherwise emotional. I keep saying I need to get into professional counseling and yet I never seem to be able to ‘find the time.’ I think part of it is embarrassment, still, another part is not knowing how to go about telling someone out loud the things I need to work through. I’m also very self-aware, since I’ve lived so long inside my own head. It was like living on auto-pilot, self-preservation just taking over and getting all the things done.
Is it acceptable to type up your introduction for your therapist? Have them read your blog? That would make things so much easier…or maybe a virtual therapist – I know a lot of people who would benefit from that!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Personally a therapist never worked for me. The one I went to was more interested in what my step-mother had to say than me I was 14 at the time when I finally told what was going on. Getting those first words out is the hardest part, maybe the situation would have been different if my step-mother had not been in the room. However, just because it didn’t work for me doesn’t mean it wouldn’t for you. it will take a long time before you get to the point where you can just automatically start talking about it. You will feel uncomfortable until you start feeling some sort of relief in talking about it and getting it out; which I promise you will not happen over night. If you get a good therapist though, it will happen over time where you can go in and talk and come out of the session feeling better. I know a few people that a therapist worked for them very well.
I do not know much about a virtual therapist I actually just learned that they existed not long ago. I see many benefits from a virtual therapist because you do not have to be face to face from what I am told, it can be emailed or you can Skype; it is something that is worth checking into. I think it is very acceptable to type up an introduction or have them read your Blog, it is your way of breaking through and letting them see the pain you are feeling. It gives them a starting point and can be a beginning for you to where you may feel more comfortable about talking about it.
I know the feeling of embarrassment and how you feel numb and like you are on auto-pilot, but I promise you over time (when you are ready) and really realize that it was’t your fault; that is when the feeling of embarrassment and numbness will slowly start going away. It will take time, but just keep remembering that you are strong and have people that are willing to help you trough this.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My heart breaks for the child you were and the stress you have to face now because of these experiences.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you.
LikeLike
My sweet friend, I can sadly relate to your story. I’m pretending too and speaking to my abuser as if nothing happened. It’s not easy. Hugs xx
LikeLiked by 1 person
Trey has asked me a couple of times if we can talk; I haven’t been able to bring myself to do that, but when I see him out and about (family stuff, grocery store, whatever) we have a strained couple of seconds of “Hello” “The boys are getting big” small talk and I move on. Maybe one of these days I’ll talk to him, but what then? I’m not sure what the point of that conversation would be, other than a chance for him to apologize (optimistically) or try to convince me I’m crazy (realistically)…and what do either of those things really accomplish?
LikeLiked by 1 person
Reading this left me appalled at your mother for allowing you to be traumatized more than once-First as a five year old and then again because she allows Trey into her home knowing what he has done. I really don’t think she deserves your visits and I hope that you find a different circle of people, those who support your healing and your honesty. Everyone has to choose for themselves, but I think that sometimes letting go of those who place their need for cozy denial above the acceptance of our truth is the most healing thing we can do. Keep writing! You are an amazing woman and I think the best is yet to come for you.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Our relationship has had a lot of ups and downs over the years. I have all but cut my father out of my life, but can’t bring myself to do that with my mom. She’s made mistakes over the years, but so have I. If I can’t forgive my own mother, how can I expect my boys to forgive me for my mistakes? I can only hope that I raise my boys to be even better than I am, to have more compassion and empathy for others, because we don’t know everyone’s story, and we shouldn’t need to know it to treat them like equal human beings.
I know a lot of my mom’s history – it reads similar to my own – the biggest difference is, I’m strong enough to break the cycles early enough in my life to make a change. And unlike me at their age, my boys need fierce protection – I was ahead of my peers in ability, intelligence and independence, whereas my boys are severely behind and completely dependent.
Also, Trey is no longer staying with them, it was a temporary solution to a complicated situation. When I wrote this, the news of him being released from prison was still extremely fresh, and even after extensive editing this piece was pretty raw. I do appreciate your response, though, and I agree that the best is yet to come for me, thank you!
LikeLike