by Band Back Together | Oct 5, 2010 | Abuse, Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse, Alcohol Addiction, Child Abuse, Child Sexual Abuse, Coping With Domestic Abuse, Domestic Abuse, Incest, Psychological Manipulation |
I lived a childhood full of secrets. I could not tell anyone outside of my family about what was really going on in my life.
My step-father was an alcoholic.
My step-father physically abused my mom.
He abused his step-children.
He didn’t abuse my younger sister, who was his biological child, although her seeing what he did to the rest of us was powerful abuse in itself.
He sexually abused me.
He went into drunken rages.
He humiliated us by showing up at our school drunk, demanding we leave with him.
He thought of new ways to inflict pain, thrilled when they “worked”.
We lived on eggshells. We lived in fear. Fear of him. Fear of tomorrow. Fear of five minutes from now.
But I could not speak. It wasn’t done.
So I kept the secrets.
I kept them for a very long time.
I kept them until I was married.
Then I told some of them.
Eventually, I sought counseling and told all of them.
ALL. OF. THEM.
I learned something valuable.
It isn’t a cliché.
The truth really DOES set you free.
It frees your soul from the weight you have been carrying.
It frees you to work through the secrets and move beyond them.
If you have secrets you have kept because someone told you that you can’t tell –
You can tell.
If you are keeping a secret to protect someone else-
Who is protecting you? Tell someone the secret.
If you have kept secrets because of shame or guilt –
Tell someone, set yourself free.
Make sure you tell a very trusted person.
Tell a close friend.
Tell family.
Tell your spouse.
Tell your religious leader.
If they are too painful or shameful or scary to tell someone you know –
Tell a therapist.
(I found a wonderful therapist. It cost money*, but there is no price too high for freedom and healing.)
It is time to heal yourself instead of protecting someone else.
You deserve it.
You need to release that burden you have carried for far too long.
It is frightening to think of telling a secret you have kept for so long.
I know it scared the hell out of me.
My entire body shook with tremors when I began bringing the secrets to the light.
But I have to tell you – I am so grateful I found the courage to tell.
When a secret is out in the open, you can examine it.
You can see it from a different point of view.
My secrets were from the viewpoint of a child’s understanding.
A child does not have the capability to understand a lot of things we adults understand.
Seeing them out in the daylight, as an adult, I was able to examine them.
I could see who held the responsibility for the situation.
I could see it wasn’t me.
I could see a future without that weight on my heart.
I read a quote once that I have stored in my heart.
I keep it in mind so I’ll NEVER keep a secret that is detrimental to myself again.
The quote is:
We are only as sick as our deepest secret.
A secret loses it’s power when you speak it in the light.
If you are keeping a secret, I encourage you to find a safe person, take a deep breath and shine a big, bright light on that ugly old secret.
It will set you free.
*Many communities have mental health centers where the fees for counseling/therapy are on a sliding scale, based on your income and expenses. Our local mental health center is where I found help. It is where I found the wonderful counselor who helped me work through the past and find my future.
by Band Back Together | Oct 4, 2010 | Cancer and Neoplasia, Family, Grief, Help For Grief And Grieving, Loss, Parent Loss, Sadness, Trauma |
On April 23, 2010 at 4:10 pm, I learned that my Daddy had a brain tumor. He had been having some trouble with the right side of his body and that had led him to the doctor. Many tests later, the doctors discovered the tumor. At that time we were very optimistic that the tumor was benign and that it could be removed surgically. The next week, on Wednesday, April 28, 2010 he went into surgery.
And our whole world changed.
After his brain surgery there were words thrown around like “oncologist,” “chemotherapy” and “radiation.” Phase III-IV Glioblastoma. Ugly words. He was in the ICU for a few days but after he weaned off the vent from surgery he was ready to “Get ‘R Done.”
And get ‘r done he did. He moved from the ICU, to the Neuro Acute floor to the rehab floor. He was told by his physical and occupational therapists that he was the hardest worker they had ever seen. Medically, he shouldn’t have gained his ability to walk and use his right arm again after his surgery. We were told with a glioblastoma tumor that the longest he had was 5 years.
Everyone grabbed on to the *5 years* part. 5 years? That’s plenty of time to get bucket list things done. Plenty of time to play with the grandkids, time to finish up projects and plenty of time to say goodbye.
Little did we know how fast things would go.
July 4, 2010 – my Mama called me and told me to “get to the hospital.”
“Are you for real? Like this is a for-real get to the hospital thing?” I asked.
“Yes,” she replied.
He had been admitted a week before with odd swelling in his head. Staph infection. Brain surgery on June 29th AND June 30th. TWO DAYS IN A ROW. Of brain surgery. On July 2nd they talked about him going home and how his infusion antibiotics would work. On July 4th he was no longer going home but Home with a capital H. Wait…what?
His heart rate was high and his blood pressure was very very low. His kidneys were no longer functioning.
And then? We waited. And we prayed. We prayed for no more pain. But no more pain? Meant no more Daddy.
He held on until the early morning hours of July 13th. I received a phone call at 1:45 am and was at the hospital by 1:55. My sister looked at me simply and said, “he’s gone.”
He’s GONE. My rock. My strong Daddy. Gone.
It’s been not even three months since that day. Most days I would say I’m okay. Some days I’m simply not. The physical pain of grief sneaks up on me and overtakes my body. The anti-depressants and anti-anxiety meds don’t seem to work at all.
I miss him terribly. I have no motivation. I rearranged my bedroom yesterday and had to sit down and sob. I’m 32-years old with a daughter of my own and a house. But moving furniture in a house that my Daddy was so entrenched in crushes me. He is NOT HERE. He is not going to complete my “Daddy Do” list. He will not see my little girl grow up. He will not see *me* grow up.
You see…my wonderful Mama and Daddy saved me from a bad marriage. They let us live with them for four years. I got to live with my parents as an adult – I got to know them as my friends. My Daddy was my rock through my divorce, through losing my job in early 2010 AND through his illness. He was our family rock when my nephew was diagnosed with leukemia at the age of 7. He gave me advice on everything from what to wear to an interview to how to paint my kitchen. And now? He’s just gone.
I miss him.
by Band Back Together | Oct 2, 2010 | Anger, Anxiety, Faith, Fear, Guilt, Hope, Loneliness, Love, Marriage and Partnership, Military Deployment And Family, Romantic Relationships, Stress |
Today is Day 1.
The first day of this deployment. Familiar in a sort of comforting way, but also strange and surreal.
You see, this deployment is my husband’s choice. It is a civilian deployment for his everyday job- an electrical engineer at a company that makes military radios. He is installing them in vehicles in Afghanistan. He didn’t have to go.
He chose to go so that we have a chance to get ahead financially. A choice that he felt he couldn’t say no to. I feel awful that soldiers who are putting their lives in more danger are making so much less money. It just doesn’t seem right. My husband says, “hey I served, I don’t feel bad that I am taking this opportunity.” But still somehow it bothers me.
He is not responsible for the lives of 100 people this time, only his own. Later in the day I realized that I feel like this is cheating. Last time I felt guilty that he spent most of his time on base and rarely had to go outside the line. When meeting other wives, whose husbands were in further outposts and doing more dangerous jobs, I never told them how lucky I felt that most of the time, I was pretty sure my husband was sitting at a desk, a desk in Afghanistan, but still a desk and not kicking down doors or looking for IED’s.
If I felt guilty last time when he was serving as a soldier, its no wonder I feel so strongly like we are cheating now. I will be surprised if I don’t get into some sort of fight with my mother-in-law this year. She loves to get on her podium and proclaim to the world how hard she has it because her son is gone. Sorry, not my style. even more so this time. She was just posting some crap on Facebook (a picture of my kid wearing an Army hat) and commenting that my husband was leaving Sunday; to remember the sacrifices soldiers make.
Sorry lady (and I use that term loosely), I don’t even know where to start. I’m not usually a freak about letting people know he is out of town, but I haven’t put it all over Facebook yet. Its really my business to share that my husband is leaving for a year. Thanks for putting that out there. If they are our friends/family that matter, they already know. After reading that, I sent her a brochure about Operational Security (OPSEC) and the things that are appropriate to post online. I think she was pissed, but I don’t care.
And that reminder about the sacrifices that soldiers make?
Again, he is not going as a soldier.
I feel it is disrespectful to those service members over there to put them in the same sentence.
Last time I had ways to show I was proud of him – blue star flag, wearing his unit pin, etc. this time I feel as if I have none of that. Luckily, I have my battle buddies, the wives who banded together with me the last time when our husbands were all deployed. But still, it’s weird because people realize that he must be getting paid a lot. It makes me feel greedy and ungrateful for all that we do have. It makes me feel guilty that I am excited we will be able to pay off the house.
I have been trying to hold it together for a few months now. When I do this, I give the impression to people that I am a cold-hearted bitch. Because I usually am very practical and pragmatic about deployments. What good does crying all the time do? Do they just expect me to fall apart because he is leaving or gone?
The first time, I said to myself and them “Someone has to go. When some guys have to go 3-4 times, who am I to think my husband deserves not to go at all?” and we were both okay with that deployment.
We were tired of waiting for the Army to pick a time to send him. And at least he was going with his own unit. This time, we are both okay with the sacrifice because we are hoping to pay off the house. Both times, it feels like people didn’t understand how we could be okay with this. Sure, we will miss each other, sure it will be hard. (I think it is hardest on the kids) but I am proud to be an independent wife and I want to teach my girls self reliance too. We never have been the type of couple that has to go everywhere together.
Since the Army has been a part of our relationship since I met him, we are pretty used to the short-term separations. Cell phones and email has made it easier. When I first met him, he didn’t have a cell phone and had to wait in line to use a pay phone. So I got pretty used to not hearing from him. Also, as an only child, sometimes I relish my time that I get to myself. My new job is great for that as it allows me to help other military families, yet get some alone time in the car traveling.
i don’t usually get upset about deployment in public, and I don’t usually get upset about it at home, because you see, with two kids, two dogs and a house to take care of, I have more things to do than wallow in self pity. So usually the magnitude of it all doesn’t really hit me until the night before he leaves.
Yesterday, I had to drive him to the airport in the late afternoon and it was my day that I allowed myself to be sad. I let the girls have cookies for dinner, eat in the living room and watch a movie while I laid in bed and watched my own TV shows.
This morning I had to move past that and get my daughter on the bus. Somehow I was reminded of the song “This Too Shall Pass” by Ok Go. I couldn’t stop listening to it today.
Somehow it made things better.
by Band Back Together | Oct 2, 2010 | Child Abuse, Child Grooming, Child Sexual Abuse, Incest |
I’m not sure how to write this. I’ve never put this is writing before. I wonder how this is going to go. I wonder if this will make me feel better. I wonder if this won’t do anything but make me sad while I write it, then I go back to being comfortably numb.**
When people ask me about my childhood, I always respond that it was great. And it was. I had all the toys and games I could ever want. I had books galore. I had two younger sisters that I adored and played with all the time. Sure we struggled financially, but we never knew that. We didn’t know how much our parents lived without until we were older and they told us.
But the truth? The truth is much darker.
I was young when Jacob Wetterling was abducted and disappeared. Kindergarten, in fact. That’s when we were all taught about Stranger Danger. Don’t talk to strangers. Don’t get into a stranger’s car. If a stranger asks me to pull down my pants, run into the house and tell an adult.
I knew it wasn’t OK for strangers to take advantage of me. But I didn’t know that it wasn’t OK for someone I knew to take advantage of me.
It started innocently enough. Back rubs. I called them “chillies” because it caused goose-bumps on my arms. I was young. Five, maybe.
The change was so gradual I didn’t even notice it. The back rubs migrated south. Slowly. To my behind. Then, as I got a little older, they went down the front. To my private area.
I knew it wasn’t OK for strangers to do this. But for a father? Was it normal? I didn’t know. So I didn’t say anything.
It continued as I started to enter puberty. I was learning sex education in school. Discussing the changes that girls go through. Discussing that soon I would be starting my period. At night, before bed, he would come in, give me “chillies,” then go back to his bedroom. I thought he was checking me. Making sure my puberty changes were going along normally. I thought he was going back to report to my mother that I was normally progressing and that I would be getting my period soon.
Then it got weird. He would come in after school, when I was getting changed. He’d do it without me asking. I asked him to please stop.
“You know you like it.”
That’s when I knew it was wrong.
Eight years. It took me eight years to realize that what was going on was wrong. Eight long years.
You all know about stranger danger. Were you EVER taught about friendly danger?
How am I going to teach my son about stranger/friendly danger? Others have said that I could use the swimsuit approach. Tell my children that no one other than a doctor or a parent can see or touch them in the areas that are covered by swim suits.
That wouldn’t have worked for me. It was a parent that was doing it. Not even a step-parent. A full-blooded parent.
What the hell? How do you prepare a child for that? How do you tell them not to trust anyone without making them paranoid?
I thank God everyday for giving me a son instead of a daughter. Not that I wouldn’t love the stuffing out of a little girl, don’t get me wrong. But I see having a son as a reward for the shit I went through. I see it as God’s way if saying “It’s OK, you don’t have to worry so much about him.”
I wonder what it would be like if I had a daughter. I wonder if I’d be able to trust my husband being alone with her. He knows what happened to me, and he knows that I’ll likely have issues if/when we have a daughter. But I’m scared.
For the record, when I finally told my mom, she didn’t leave him. She stayed with him for another year before he walked out on us. He left her. Not the other way around. And she still talks about the fact that if she had her way, she would have stayed with him unless he had hurt one of us kids. I guess what I went through doesn’t count.
But that’s a story for another day.
**Well, that was an interesting experience getting all that out. It actually makes me want to tell more of the story. The aftermath, how my relationships changed, how it may have triggered my PPD. Maybe I’ll have to write more some day.
(Ed. Note: Please write more soon!)
by Band Back Together | Oct 1, 2010 | Abortion, Abortion Recovery, Adoption, Family, How To Help A Friend With Infertility, Infertility, Woman's Health |
I am infertile.
We have been trying to have a baby for years to no avail. I will spare you the details, but I was approached by a potential birth mother who is a friend. She is pregnant, doesn’t want the baby, was going to have an abortion and decided she didn’t know if she could go through with it. She asked if we might be interested in private adoption. YES, oh YES, it would be a dream come true.
I did it. I got my hopes up against all logic and warning from everyone.
I got a text today that says she is not going through with the pregnancy. I am so sad right now. I am heartbroken at the needless loss of a life that could be my baby.
Where do I go from here?
I had such a tight lid on this I never let myself feel this hope or dream.
I let the lid off and now I am devastated.
