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cmalina
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Posted: Thu Oct 25th, 2007 05:34 am |
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i haven't been able to sleep tonight and just kept thinking about a lot of stuff and ended up just writing, this is what i wrote and i just wanted to be able to share it with someone...
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February 17, 2004, for most people it was probably an unmemorable average day, but f it's a date that my family and I will never forget. For me, it constitutes a turning point in my life. I'm not really sure what way to look at it though. In one way it was my rock bottom, it was the night that I tired to take my own life. Yet, in another it was the first time i found my voice. Granted, I was not physically speaking. Rather, my actions were speaking for myself in a way that I never could before. It was how I finally tried to tell someone I was not ok. When I decided to take the drugs i found in my mother's medicine cabinet, i don't remember thinking 'I want to die.' And now, looking back on the situation, I don't think I did want to die, for if I truly had, I probably would not be sitting here today. No, I remember thinking, "If this is how I am going to feel in my life, i don't care if I wake up tomorrow." As the cliche goes, my attempted suicide was my cry for help. And though the events that followed the days, even years after that night helped in one way or another, I still feel and think sometimes that it doesn't matter either way. If i wake up in the morning, or if I don't. Granted, it's rare when those occasions arise, and they're not thoughts that I act upon. But still, they're there. And maybe its human nature to feel that way once in a while. Or maybe it's just my nature. Either way, I guess it's just one obstacle i will have to handle in my life.
I think I was so despondent because of the feeling that I have to protect everyone. I had this big secret, the things that happened when I was younger, and it was my job to make sure that only those involved in the events knew about them. I had to be no more than nine when things first started. And, that's a lot of responsibility for a nine year old to have. Keep the secret, protect your bother. I don't know why I felt like I couldn't tell anyone, not even my parents. I try to think back on how that idea got planted into my brain, but I can't understand it's roots. Maybe it was just a pervasive feeling within my family, secrecy. The more I learn about my parents and the rest of my family, the more this explanation seems valid. Or maybe my brother told me not to say anything. Maybe I felt truly responsible for what was going on, and I didn't want to be in trouble. The truth of the matter is I don't know, maybe it was all of the above. To a nine year old any and all of those reasons would be more than enough. But either way I kept the secrets till it almost killed me. It's strange because even now I have to fight myself to think or talk about it. I still have the overwhelming urge to just keep it all a secret, pretend like nothing happened. But I know that in the end that trying to protect everyone else will just hurt me even more.
One thing that bothers me is I can't remember the first time something happened. Maybe it was so subtle I didn't think anything of it. Maybe I was just too young to understand. Maybe I've tried too hard to not remember. I don't know. I do remember one time when I was laying on the couch, my brother laid on top of me and started rubbing against me. I didn't like it or what him to, but he just told me it was ok and to relax or something like that. I know more things had to have happened, but I don't remember what, well at least everything. The next event I can vividly remember was much less innocent . I think I was eleven years old. He wanted me to reenact this pornographic video and told me to perform oral sex. I remember crying and choking. After that the next thing I can remember I think I was fourteen and my brother was driving. He grabbed my breast while we were coming home from school. I hit him and told him not to. He responded saying it wasn't that big of a deal, and I got out of the car and walked the rest of the way home.
I know there are probably more events other that the specific ones I remember. I never told any of my therapists the exact things that happened between us. I remember after I tried to kill myself my psychiatrist in the hospital figured it out before I said anything. I didn't tell him what had happened between me and my brother, just that something did. But above all I was so convinced that it wasn't why I was depressed. By all accounts my brother and I were best friends, so no, it couldn't have been why. I was forced to talk to social services and the police about the events. And the legal battle over the sexual assault case between my brother and I complicated my family life so much more. The whole time I was still convinced that he wasn't why I was depressed. I didn't want him to go to jail. I wanted to able to be around my brother. Now, I look back and I don't even know if that's what I wanted at all. I realize I was so set on trying to take care of and protect everyone else in my family, that I never even considered what I actually wanted. My mom and my brother wanted me to help them make sure Rob stayed out of jail. So, I convinced myself that was what I wanted too. Looking back now, I kind of wish he was. I feel like a horrible person for thinking that. He's my brother, and what happened between us happened, and he's been on probation.
I guess I just feel like what happened still haunts me most of the time. It still effects mostly everything I do. And when I see my brother and his life, I don't think it does for him, and that's not fair. It's something that he did to me, but he's the one that got off easy. I guess that's just why it's so hard.
And now, we go to the same school. Yes, that's really my own stupid fault. Going to the same school as my sexually abusive brother, was not a good idea. I realize that now, but when I made the decision to come here I was still convinced of the myth that what happened is in the past, that I'm over it and it wasn't why I was depressed. Now, I know that's not true. I'm not over what happened, and it still effects me. I can't be anywhere near my brother without thinking and remembering what happened. But he's still my brother, and I love him. He's my family. I know that talking about what happened with the people that care about me would help me feel better. But all the people that do know and like my brother. And part of me still feels like I have to keep this secret to protect him. Because I still love my brother, and I'm figuring out how to be able to deal with all that happened between us. But I don't think I could deal with knowing that I ruined his life on top of everything that has already happened.
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scw4survivors
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Posted: Thu Oct 25th, 2007 01:09 pm |
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Caiti ...
I am glad that you are with us. It sounds like you may want to rethink some of your choices.
I know I went for a long time "protecting" my mother by not telling her what her father had done to me. I finally told her this summer, and it has been helpful for me. I know that every situation is different. Please know that you always have options ... about telling ... about where you go to school ... and, you can change your mind. It is sometimes easier to get into a different school as a transfer student than as a freshman.
Hang in there. I hope you get some rest.
Susan
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Mending Soul
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Posted: Thu Oct 25th, 2007 08:05 pm |
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Caiti,
I identify so much with your story...about 'keeping the secret'...about battling yourself to even talk about any of it with anyone...about 'foggy' memories or 'partial' memories...about loving your abuser and feeling bound and responsible for their life and happiness...
My story of abuse is very long and includes incest from my father whom I worshipped for years...and whom I desparately wanted approval from...to the point of allowing other abusers to abuse me because 'he' liked them...and even to 'marry' another abuser because it's what 'he' would have wanted...I also went through abuse from an uncle...I did not have those memories until years later...after my first divorce...when my 4-year old son was abused by my first husband's father...I lived through 3 domestically abusive marriages...was raped for a year at age 15 (used to leave my body)...lived through economic and employment abuse...Clergy abuse and medical malpractice and medical abuse...I'm 49 now and finally discovering my voice...I am so happy for you that you are discovering your voice so early...I wish I could have...
But I do know that over time...with therapy...and help from others...I've learned that I was not responsible for the lives or happiness of others...but it's been very difficult to learn that...one of sets of books that helped me the most were books written by Toby Rice Drews and they were called 'Getting Them Sober I, II and Action guides...".
These books were about 'alcoholic and drug addicts' whom I loved and wanted to be sober...but the books for the first time helped me understand that the absolute 'insanity' that I lived in was not my fault...they helped me understand the 'mind games' others played on me...and those lessons helped me learn to be kind and gentle with myself...and to begin for the first time to 'stop' taking responsibility for what 'others' did to me...I've been able to apply some of those concepts to my dealings with abusers...and with my 'trust' issues.
I still have so very much work to do on healing my own soul, mind and body...but reaching out for me...it's been the miracle in my life...
For the abuse issues...I decided to go to the 'experts'...I went to counseling through a 'sexual abuse crisis center' for a while...am now thinking of going back again...because I still have so many residual behavior issues of my own...
I encourage you to continue to seek help...and I commend you for sharing your pain with us...we truely understand.
My heart is with yours in your aloneness.
Cathie
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Makwa
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Posted: Sat Oct 27th, 2007 03:48 am |
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| Caiti, I, too, want you to know that you are not alone. That here there are people you don't have to explain yourself to or defend yourself with. you can get the support you need. I've been around a while, to many counselors, groups, etc. but this message board has benefited me in ways i don't quite understand. I don't have to describe Mars...everyone else here has been there. That is about the best I can figure. And that alone is a great comfort. Keep posting. Your story is so sad to me, mainly because it was a big brother i didn't have, and a big brother who would have saved me. That your were violated by the phantom protector of my dreams just makes me ache for you. I'm so sorry for your loss...
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