Home » anxiety » Old Wounds Heal Slowly

Old Wounds Heal Slowly

Some time ago, I wrote about my childhood trauma – that moment, when childhood ended, for me, and innocence was lost forever.  It was a really cathartic moment for me, sharing that in such a public forum – my blog.  And I was heartened by the support I got from all my friends out there in the blogosphere.

Most of the time, I can put that memory behind me, and go about my business without thinking much about it.

And then, something happens that brings it all back, right to the front of my brain – and I’m lost again, in the nightmares that I used to have all the time.

And then there’s the depression that comes with it, because of the denial of others.  Those family members, who, for whatever reason, refuse to acknowledge that it ever happened, and then expect me to just “get over it and forget about it”

But I can’t.  No.  WON’T.  I refuse to give up the anger, the sadness, the loss.  Not until I get the validation that I should have gotten when I was a girl.  If I could just get my family to admit to my face what happened, so many years ago, maybe I could finally stop being angry with them. 

I went to lunch today, with my mother and her best friend from our old home-town in Iowa.  I was hoping, praying, that they’d leave that other person out of the conversation.  But of course, they figured out some way to work him in to the talk during the meal.

And I immediately went into emotional disconnect.

Looking down at my plate, and totally ignoring any exchange that took place about that other person, I tried hard to pretend the conversation wasn’t happening.  I’ve told my mother before that I won’t talk about him, not unless she wants to actually talk about what happened back then.

She won’t, so we don’t.

And afterwards, I couldn’t get the memories out of my head.

Like tearing open an old, raw wound.  The pain is still present, aching.  The primal scream that lies buried, deep in my gut, that claws and squirms within me, not allowed to be released.  It makes my head hurt, and my stomach churn.  And that’s not all.

Every time I’m forced to remember, the nightmares come. 

Another year, another obligatory meeting.  Another tearing of the old wound.  Someday, I’m going to make this meeting happen in a place that’s not so public.  I will have my say, at last, and – I. Will. Be. Heard.

But not today.

Dammit.

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6 thoughts on “Old Wounds Heal Slowly

  1. *hugs*

    I know you are really angry with your mother, and you certainly have every right to be. And I know that you probably know this, but feel I need to say it.

    Some people just can’t admit to themselves that they have done something so horrible to another person, especially a child/teen that should have been protected. I have a feeling that both your mother and her friend know (deep down in their subconscious) that they failed you. And they abused you by trying to force you to go along with their actions. But that is so awful for them to even begin to comprehend that they are in denial about it in order to protect themselves from their own hurt.

    I’m not suggesting that this is in anyway an excuse that should exonerate them in anyway and only mention it because it’s I think unlikely that they will ever admit to it in order to protect their own psyches. They aren’t as strong as you are. They aren’t as brave.

    I’m so sorry that they keep dredging this up for you. What was done to you (by all parties involved) was despicable. To have things play out the way they did was akin to a defense attorney accusing a rape victim of “asking for it” in open court.

    I wish for you that you know you are strong and brave. That you know you are beautiful and inspire others. That you are someday able to find peace, by whatever means, with this. And that you know you are loved. Even by one who’s never met you in person.

  2. *hugs*
    I know… it irks me how my parents still associate with the person… even if its at church. I would let my children know 110% that I support them… moving countries if we have too!

    • As my children also know, that if anything were ever to happen, they can come to me, and I will believe, and defend them, to my last breath. Thanks.

  3. I hear the conviction in your words, and know that when that next opportunity comes around, you WILL own the moment.

    You will own the healing that comes from shining a bright light on that which persists the dark , and you will be able to walk away with your head held high. They will not be able to sweep it under the rug ever again after that day, and you will have freed yourself from the shackles of these horrible memories by taking your power back. You’ve started down the right road, and I believe you will find ultimate healing at the end of it.

    HUGS!

    • You’ve been such a rock for me the last few months, my friend. Thanks for our Friday lunches, for the phone calls, for everything. Truly. (HUGS)

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