MessyONE:2. So this is the letter that's causing all the consternation. This is the letter that horrifies people, the situation that they can't contemplate, the thing that they don't want to think about and would rather sweep under the rug and quietly pretend that it never happened as long as the LW keeps her kid away from a kiddie rapist. They can picture it all too well, but like the woman mugged on her way from the subway, they'd really just like to pat themselves on the back for saying the "right" things while thanking whatever deity they worship that they dodged THAT bullet..... Hmmmm. Ok.
To the LW.
You were betrayed. That's what all of this amounts to. When you were a kid, every person that you were told that you could trust betrayed you in a way that's affected your life so deeply you don't know what to do with yourself now that you're having a child of your own. They're still betraying you every single day of your life, because they won't acknowledge what happened. They tell you not to bring it up so that you don't hurt anyone's feelings and they don't seem to care about yours.
Your "charming" grandfather betrayed you. He hurt you, he abused you, and he betrayed your trust. Parents and grandparents and people that your parents tell you to trust aren't supposed to cause you pain, but he did. You cried, you begged, you did everything a kid could possibly do to stop him and he kept on hurting you anyway. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed your pain. He had to know he was hurting you and he didn't stop. He liked seeing you suffer and your begging and crying only made him feel more powerful, because he is a monster, and that's what monsters do. There was nothing you could have done to stop him because he was bigger than you, he had authority over you, and he made sure that no one found out what he was doing.
What no one ever tells little kids is that monsters don't look like monsters. They don't tell you that monsters can be beautiful, that they can hide in plain sight and that they can deceive just about everyone because no one wants to believe that a beautiful exterior can hide terrible danger. They don't tell you that the monster isn't under a bridge or in the sewer, he's in your own home.
Monsters aren't hiding in the dark places we're supposed to fear, and they aren't strangers. They're sitting in your kitchen, drinking coffee and there's nothing you can do about it because they were invited and you aren't allowed to disinvite them. They don't lurk outside your bedroom window making empty threats, they're IN your bedroom with you, hurting you in ways that you're too young to understand and only know are painful; holding their hand over your mouth, threatening all kinds of nasty things that will happen if you cry too loudly. Not only is he in your home, he's welcome there, which leads to a second betrayal.
Your mother betrayed you. You told her what happened to you and she did nothing. She didn't tell your father. She didn't confront your grandfather. She didn't do what mothers are supposed to do and tell you that you'd be all right, that she'd stop the monster, that she'd keep him from being near you ever again. She didn't call the police, she didn't even want to hear it. What she wanted was for you to go away and pretend that it never happened so that she could keep her comfortable illusion that everything in the world is just fine.
Did she tell you that since it's in the past it shouldn't matter so much? Did she tell you not to say anything because you could hurt someone? Did she tell you that you wouldn't be believed and that all sorts of nasty things would happen if you told? Did she make you feel as if you, the child that she gave birth to, weren't as important as a monstrous old man who thinks that hurting children is a good thing? Is her image of a "perfect family" more important to her than you are?
Your therapist and your minister betrayed you. They took away your right to feel angry at what had been done to you and forced you to take some of the blame for what the monster did to you by "forgiving" him. But you don't forgive him, do you? Not really, not deep down you haven't. Otherwise you would never have written to Prudence. You have been told that you aren't allowed to feel betrayed, that anger is not a proper reaction to these betrayals, but that's just another lie. You have to own ALL of your feelings. Otherwise, they'll eat you up.
What should you do?
You're having a baby, and now you have to be the mother that your own mother would never be for you. You have all those Mama Bear instincts and hormones kicking in right now, and you KNOW what you need to do for your child. You would throw yourself under a bus, off a cliff, tear apart entire prides of lions with your bare hands and a pointed stick and eat a tyrannosaur with toothpicks and cocktail forks for that baby you're carrying, and you're going to have to do it, too.
Tell your father. I'm betting he doesn't know. If he does, it's high time you told him to his face. Tell him how you felt and how you feel. Let it all out in front of both of them. Don't do this alone. Bring your husband and if HE doesn't know, it's high time he did.
Tell both of your parents that the only time they'll be permitted near your child with a barge pole is when you or your husband are in the room and your grandfather is in another zip code. Don't argue, don't cajole, don't give in to any of their bullshit. If they try and sneak the old man into their house so that you "have" to see him, leave at once. This won't be easy for you, but you have no choice. You MUST do this. You KNOW how they betrayed you, and you are their own child. Don't give them the chance to throw your baby on the fire like they did to you.
Let the rest of the family know what you're doing, and why. They NEED to know this. You aren't the only child that this monster betrayed. You aren't. You know it. You know, just as you know that the child you carry is in danger that others were endangered, too. You know that others feel like you do, that they feel as helpless and as angry and as hurt. It takes incredible courage to come forward with something like this. It's hard to do. It hurts, and it makes you re-live the pain and fear all over again. You have to do it, though. For your child and every other child that this monster has been in contact with.
Tell everyone. I know, better than just about anyone here, just how hard and how painful it is to tell someone the truth. People are going to accuse you of lying. They're going to tell you you're crazy or sick or that they don't want to hear it. Fine. You aren't going to repeat yourself to them. You aren't a little kid any more. You are coming from a position of strength now. There is nothing anyone can do to hurt you that you don't allow, because you're an adult. I know it sometimes feels as if the child you were is still the person you are now, but you aren't. You survived this horror, you've built a good life with a husband that loves you and a child that you will never allow anyone to harm. You can do this.
Always remember that the people who say these things to you are people that you don't want in your life. You don't want them around, whispering to your child that some things are best kept secret, that no one will believe a little kid. You can't give them a chance to betray you or your child ever again.
I promise you that the more people you tell, the easier it will get. Eventually, it will become a story, something that happened a long time ago, a monster that you killed with your words and some sunlight. You can't make it go away. I wish that I could tell you that you'll forget and it'll be like it never happened. It won't. Once in a while, it'll come back and hit you like a freight train. That's normal. Words spoken in the open for everyone to hear have power that you can't yet imagine. They can burn ugliness, they can drive it away, they can take away its hold on you and everyone else who's been hurt.
You can do this. You must. This time, you are in control of what happens. Take that control and use it to make your child and every other child around you safe from this monster.
First time poster, so please go easy on me.
One of the big questions seems to be why she doesn't tell everyone, the whole family. Yes, part of it's about protecting them, but a big part is about protecting herself.
Kids are afraid that they won't be believed, because they're just kids. Some "grown ups" are just afraid. Survivors of abuse are a fucked up lot. They're the ones that the family doesn't understand, the ones who sometimes have enraged outbursts that don't seem to have a reason. They're the ones who've gone through heavy "slut" phases, heavy drinking phases, the problem children who can't seem to get it together, who always need attention and validation, but then get angry or hysterical. They're the ones who hurt themselves, because they don't know how to make the hurting inside stop, and because it's been like that for so long that if the screaming inside stops, the quiet will swallow them up.
This is just another way little Jane, Jennifer, or Mackenzie is trying to get attention, they say. She's already caused so much damage to this family, why can't she just stop it? Why can't she be normal, like her brother?
That would be because her brother's the one who molested her nightly throughout her adolescence. He's the good child, he keeps a low profile, doesn't get into trouble, went to school every day and was home by curfew every night.
Now let's switch to the use of "I". I told my parents, years later. The first thing my mother said? "*If* this is true..."
I had to fight to be believed. I even doubted myself, questioned my own memories. About a decade or so ago, there was a big stir about "recovered memories" and people reporting abuse that hadn't happened. Maybe I'd somehow become confused, maybe those memories were just fragments of warped dreams?
After all, he was the good child, he didn't make trouble. I did. I was angry ("good girls don't get angry"), I was confused ("Am I going crazy? Am I already there?"), and I was hurting so badly that I couldn't breathe.
I was seventeen, and I told my parents. I told them that I wasn't a good girl, which they already knew, and I told them why. I wasn't believed until my older brother admitted to it.
I got counselling, he got counselling, we all got counselling. They got better. After all, they'd seen a counsellor, they'd talked about it, it was time to get over it and get on with our lives.
So, again, I was the problem child. I was the one who couldn't get over it, I was the one who still had nightmares, still hurt myself, still skipped school, stayed out late, got in trouble. I was the reminder.
Yes, he was the molestor. He was accused, he admitted to it, he got help. All better.
I was the one still dealing with the guilt, the shame, the bitterness and resentment, anger and rage, fear. I was the problem.
My extended family doesn't know. I haven't told them, and my parents or brother will certainly never tell them.
It would be making trouble. Nice families don't talk about these things. If I'm the one who wants to talk about these things, that makes me the one who's "not nice", the one who's the "troublemaker".
It's taken me years of work to build a workable relationship with my parents. A lot of it is on my terms, but part of me still feels selfish for making it "all about me". I still feel residual guilt, and shame, for being the one to have brought it up and caused my family, my loved ones, so much pain. If I'd kept it a secret, then I'd be the only one hurting.
I still haven't managed to develop compassion for myself, and for the "myself" of those times. I still feel that I should have stopped it, should have made it go away. I still feel like the bad girl who messed things up, hurt everyone, made a mess. These are things that good girls don't do.
So you might wonder why this woman doesn't want to tell everyone? I don't. She told her mother, her mother covered it up, didn't even tell the father. Her mother made it very clear that good girls don't talk about these things. The implication is that if she talks about it, she's a not-good girl.
This woman already feels like a bad girl because she "let" it happen as a child. She probably feels a lot of the guilt and shame over "it". She's gotten herself to a place where she can feel virtuous, because she can say that she's forgiven him. Maybe she really has. Or maybe, there's a little voice in the back of her head that tells her it isn't true, she hasn't forgiven him, she's a liar.
A bad girl, and a liar. She told her mother, and her mother didn't help. She didn't tell the family, she didn't support her daughter, and she still welcomes "him" into the family home. Mom picked him over me, says the little voice. If I tell the rest of the family, they'll pick him too, because he's good and charming and generous and funny. And I'm a bad girl, and a liar.
That's why she hasn't told them yet. It takes a huge, huge amount of personal strength to open yourself up to that kind of situation. She may not have gotten there yet. She may not feel ready to risk, as she likely views it, the loss of her family and their love, their acceptance. Home might sometimes be hell, but it's cold out there all alone. Cold, and scary, and unknown. At least at home she knows what to expect.
Having said that, she needs to find a professional to help her realise that she's lovable, that it's okay to forgive *herself*. She may feel like a broken little girl inside sometimes, but she's a grown up with a husband who loves all of her, and a child on the way who *needs* all of her. It's her job to take a big step, for her husband and child, her new family.
She needs to tell her parents. Yes, her mother kept quiet when she disclosed previously. This time, the daughter wouldn't just be telling, she'd be asking, for their belief and support and help and strength. If her parents refused to support her in talking to the rest of their family, then that'd send a damned clear message: They would be actively denying her support. They'd be confirming that the family's image was more important than the family's members.
It would be time for that particular family member to leave. And it would be time for her to work on building, strengthening and supporting her own family.
Now it comes to the question of telling her extended family, without her parents' support.
Some people, professional or otherwise, will say that it's not her job. Her job is to protect herself, and her child, and to work on being strong and functional and healthy. It's not her job to protect the world, to crusade, to disturb this particular shitpile. Telling, fighting to be believed, fighting to see him punished, takes strength. Maybe her job is to put herself first, finally, and use that strength to grow and cope with her own life.
Yes, it's true that it takes strength. And it's scary. And hard.
I'm not ready to raise a shitstorm, yet. Maybe not ever. I've heard rationalisations and justifications from counsellors, therapists, psychologists and psychiatrists. He's only a few years older than me, so maybe my molestor wasn't really old enough to know any better, maybe he viewed it as "mutual masturbation", as they call it, or experimentation. He's probably not likely to do it again... Blah blah blah. The truth is that I don't have the personal strength at this time in my life to take on this kind of battle, to "cause" this kind of hurt. He doesn't have children, doesn't volunteer with children, date women with children, none of his friends have kids. I don't feel an immediacy to make a decision or take action. I'm in a position where I can continue working on myself, growing stronger and building a more solid foundation for myself. Then maybe I'll be ready to take on the world, or maybe I'll be ready to believe the professionals. I can't say. At this point, I don't have to say, I don't have kids.
Which brings us back to the expectant mother who wrote to Prudie. She doesn't have the luxury of time anymore. Her first priority needs to be to protect her child. This means that she needs to find the strength, no matter how hard or scary.
I've rambled on quite a bit about why she hasn't told, but none of these reasons hold water anymore. She's decided that she's ready to be a mother, so she needs to decide to put her child and her family of choice ahead of her family of birth and she needs to address the problem that's been hiding in the closet (or presiding at the dinner table) for all these years.
