There are few words to summarise the rage, sadness and disappointment I’ve been feeling over the last few days. Lately I’ve had some more level weeks; less self-harm, fewer urges to drink, I’ve even made tentative plans for the future.
An email exchange with my mum sent me spinning off course before the weekend. After therapy on Thursday I had summoned the courage to send my mum a message asking her to talk to my brother about paying for my therapy. This wasn’t out of the blue; I’ve thought about it for months and my mum had suggested it when I mentioned suing him.
I felt kind of proud of myself for standing up and asking for something I need. It’s not normal for me. But it felt important. I can handle the injustice of the sexual abuse, but I decided I couldn’t keep paying for it anymore. I simply can’t afford to repair the damage he caused to me. That makes me angry because I shouldn’t have to. My wife and I shouldn’t be edging towards having no financial security because of what he did 20 years ago.
So I was gutted when my mum said no. It was like I’d had a hard fall and all the breath was knocked out of my chest. I felt totally abandoned, rejected and let down. I was furious that she yet again seems to be protecting him and not me. That really hurts. She said it wouldn’t be healthy for her to put herself in that position. This situation isn’t healthy for any of us. Myself least of all.
Then she added to the shit storm by asking my sister to talk to him instead. This was completely hypocritical, given that she thought it wouldn’t be healthy for herself. And more importantly, this was all done without consulting me. Once again, what I need, what I ask for is ignored and bypassed because of family politics. I was so enraged I actually cried a little for the first time in a while. Angry, disappointed tears. Those feelings are so heavy.
Now I am carrying around that heaviness, that mourning for what I wish my family could be. I’ve come to the realisation that they will never accept my experience. They’ll never want to see my truth, because it is too horrible.
Sitting here tonight, I want to lash out. I am so dangerously close to hating them. I don’t have the luxury of closing my eyes to that truth. In the darkness I can still see what he did to me. I can still feel the terror and disgust. But there is nothing I can do but try to contain all the toxic echoes of those events without destroying myself. And today that feels especially tough.