*lots of bad language, raw, real, triggers for abuse and rape*
I coped by complete avoidance for most of my life. Avoidance meant minimizing. Avoidance meant ignoring my own mind and my own body. I coped the same way that was modeled to me by my upstanding family, denial. Being numb. So when I spontaneously WOKE UP a little over two years ago, imagine my shock. Oh I never denied being abused as a child but it wasn’t spoken of. I went to therapy sessions where there was a lot of “sounds like you’re feeling sad” Hell yes you idiot I feel sad, I just told you I was sad, now come up with something of value! When you wake up many things will happen. You will put people where they belong, in the correct catergory. Person A. You were an enabler to a child molester. Person B. You suppressed and oppressed my very existance. Person C. You never believed me or validated anything I experienced. Person D. You made me feel like I didn’t even matter and was a burden. What sucks is those people were an integral part of your life, your mother, brother, best friend, etc. Now that you are awake you see them for who they really are. You also see the abuse for what it really was. And the gravity of it all is tremendous. I’m walking a new path with a new therapist that is superb and allows me to feel for the first time in my life. Today, I felt raw anger in a way I had never felt it before.
As a child I could not process what happened to me. It was not until a few years ago that I really grasped the significance,enormity, of the abuse I endured. It has taken 2 years for me to work through 40 years. I mean, if as a kid, you were able to get the help you needed, work through it all, have a supportive kick ass family, then fantastic! If not. It is just a matter of time before you make the choice to keep living silent and numb or speak and let pieces of your life fall where they may. I was NOT allowed to process anything growing up with a family living in denial. So I am just now starting.
I am 44 years old and today was the first day in my entire life that I truly felt the full gravity of what was done to me. It hit me when I remembered a moment of humiliation. Billy Banks, that child molesting piece of shit, always took things to a new level. He manipulated and molded me from very early on. I was his secret. He kept his secret in his house where he could hide me away and do as he pleased. But soon he started to test those around him. He wanted to see how far he could take the abuse in public. One day I remember in particular we had finished ski practice across the lake from my house. I had changed out of my bathing suit and put on shorts and a t-shirt. I had just started wearing a bra and didn’t have one that day when I changed. Billy and another ski club member were taking me home in their boat when Billy stopped the boat, said he noticed I wasn’t wearing a bra (I was maybe 11?) and he threw me over the boat into the water holding onto my arm. Slowly pulling me up and laughing while telling his buddy, “yep, told you she wasn’t wearing a bra.” Humiliation. Mortification. I tried to cover myself but I was dangling over the boats edge with my wet shirt stuck to me and two men laughing. That’s all I remember. That incident was wedged in with hundreds of abuse incidents and many more humiliations.
Pause. The other man in the boat. Why did he do nothing? Why did he say nothing?
I tried to break the silence a few years later when my friend and I paddled out the ski jump in the middle of the lake and spray painted it that Billy Banks was a child molester. A warning to all the other moms. A cry for help by me. An act of finally saying NO MORE. Bright and early the next morning the ski club members were rolling paint brush rollers right over my voice.
Pause. Why didn’t they do anything? Why did they say nothing?
After I attempted suicide years later and told my parents that Billy had been doing bad things to me( I was in a state of shock and humiliation and not many words surfaced, but enough so they knew I was being abused), They still let my brother ski with Billy at the club.
Pause. Why did they do nothing. Why did they say nothing?
Humiliation. I felt such utter humiliation because no one said a thing. There were no protectors. There were no advocates. There was no solace or peace. There was humiliation, pain, shame, agony, depression, and so much more.
These people. Every single one of these people, my brother, my father, my mother, Billy Banks, the ski club members, Billy’s wife, Billy’s daughter, the ENTIRE TOWN, knew. And did nothing.
So I became numb. I walked the path of many abuse victims.
Until, I woke up. Still a little groggy from 40 years of sleep but each day waking up a little bit more. And as I awaken I see people for who they really are. When you are awake you tend to remove all facades, masks, and lies. 2 years ago I told my father all of the abuse that happened to me. I shared that information with my entire family. And they had an OUTSTANDING performance. They spewed hate, blame, shame, more humiliation, more denial, more revictimiation, and I have to give them a standing fucking ovation. Bravo. You won a prize. Really. I am officially awarding my family with an Emmy ward, a Grammy award, I may even throw in a Golden Globe for the most pathetic, most piece of shit group of people I have ever laid eyes on. Because see, I see you now. I see it all. I see you all. What my family has done should be criminal. But it isn’t. There is no crime for being pieces of shit. So I give them an award for a life long achievement as the worst family they could be for me. Funny thing about them, they’d take the award, put it on the mantel, and brag about it to their friends, and twist it to make them winners. I feel true and unabashed disdain for all of them.
I had my vagina, my breasts, my body, my heart and soul, violated, humiliated as a little child. And nobody cared. In fact, they care so little that they walked away the first chance they got. That little girl didn’t matter to them. And all of the Billy Banks fans, and there are many, who still stand by his side defending and demanding his innocence are sorry pieces of shit too.
You can’t make this shit up! I’m not living with PTSD, flashbacks, and anxiety for nothing! It was placed upon me, against my will, as I was molested repeatedly by Billy Banks. Do you think Billy Banks is having a hard time in his life right now? Hell no! He has tons of money, a big family, still lives on a lake where everyone kisses his ass, he even got into some sort of waterski hall of fame. He is happy as a clam. He has no remorse because he is an evil demented man who most likely has moved onto another victim that no one even knows about.
And I am left to pick up the pieces of ONE MAN. One man took away everything. He took away my childhood. He took away (indirectly but most definitely ) my family. and has left me with life long side affects to that abuse. The gravity of what that one man did and the ripple affect he had on everyone around him choosing evil over good hit me today.
Someone once commented on my blog that I just need to forgive. And listen. You can think that. You can think whatever you want to think about forgiveness, and letting go, and how that can lead to my healing. But keep those opinions to yourself. This is my space. I was “the good little girl” my whole life. I was made to be perfect and accepting and forgiving and QUIET. I am not there right now. I am ANGRY. And I have every fucking right to be. My body is angry at the pain that was inflicted upon it against my will. Forgiveness is not in my vocabulary right now and whatever unicorn world there is out there where forgiveness FIXES my PTSD and my vaginal pain, well all I can say is I hope I get there one day but just telling me to forgive is insensitive and I will not have it. When or if I forgive, I will let everyone know. I am currently allowing myself the FREEDOM to FEEL. Whatever that brings. I’m pretty sure my raped vagina fucking has the right to be angry.I am pretty sure the humiliation of my naked breasts as a child dangled over a boat in the water get to feel angry. I’m pretty sure I have the right to feel angry that the people who were supposed to protect and love me unconditionally are pathetic prideful assholes that abandoned me the first chance they got because they just couldn’t handle anything but the “perfect bethany”. It is almost as if they liked the abused version of me. They could handle that me. The crushed beaten down barely alive person they liked. That person was very easily kept quiet.
So, I am awake. And awake hurts. Awake is so painful. Awake is full of awareness and memories and processing. But I am on a path of truth. I am on a path of healing, not living a life that is a lie. We will see where my path takes me. It is a narrow path. So I may have to walk it slowly heel toe heel toe. But I am walking it, nolonger numb.