Some days I can almost forget about the abuse from my past. Other days it almost kills me. For me the hardest part has been forgiving. I can't forgive my brother for what he did to me. I can't forgive my parents for not caring about it and for pretending it never happened.
Some times I want to say that I hate my parents for the things they have done. But when thinking about it, it isn't that I hate them. It is that I am very hurt by them and what they have done. They let me down and that really hurts.
Let me clarify by telling my story.
When I was about 5 or so my brother started to sexually abuse me, I will not go into detail on what happened. This went on till I was about 8 almost 9. My parents never found out about what was going on. But then again they never really kept tabs on us kids. I didn't know that any thing was wrong with what was going on, my parents never told me any thing about private parts or things of that nature. It stopped partly because my eldest sister told me about the things my parents should have many years before and then because my brother left home. My brother stopped talking to the family a few years later after he left home.
So I buried this deep inside, I had even forgotten that any thing had happened. Then when I was 16 I was talking with a friend and she had started asking me questions about my sexual history. I then had a total break down. I didn't tell her why. I went home and told my parents about what had happened when I was a kid. My mom never talked to me about it. My dad just would ignore it. Then that year they told me they were trying to get my brother to come see us for Christmas because they managed to get hold of him.
Well at 16 that told me that they didn't care about me. So then I stopped caring about me as well. I got into some pretty bad stuff. My parents never tried to stop any of that either. So I just felt like I was worthless. It wasn't till I met Jennifer that I started to feel like some one cared about me. Of course when I met her we both didn't know she was a she. You will have to read the other posts to understand that one. But any ways because of her I was able to start feeling better about myself.
Now in recent years I have learned that my parents do kind of care about me, they just don't believe me. My dad has told Jennifer that I have been exaggerating and making stuff up. I never had bad feelings toward my brother until my protective shell was broken. I know some people are thinking "well if you didn't 'remember' it till you were 16 how do we know you are really telling the truth?" Well it is actually very common for some one to repress a bad memory so that they don't have to deal with it or feel the pain that comes from the bad memory. You always want to be able to escape pain. Some times it just takes the right smell, word, or experience to trigger the memory.
Some thing else to put with all of this is that my parents won't ask him about it. They are to afraid that if they ask him that he will stop talking to them again. Personally I don't see that as a bad thing. But my mom suffers from what I have started calling "not my mi hijo/hija" (pronounced ho for son ha for daughter) syndrome. And yes that is how it is said, if you ever had lived in El Paso you would know this. That is when some one, normally mothers, don't believe their kid can do any wrong. I have known many mothers with this problem and my mom is one of them. After all he is her baby and how could he do some thing so terrible.
My brother I do hate. My parents, well I don't know if I would say hate but I am very hurt. I don't know if I can forgive them for these things. They have let me down very greatly.
Now I am going to ask that any one that has some thing to say leave a comment. I am open to advice or if you just want to tell your story go for it. Don't be shy I have it so that you can be anonymous if you would like. Thank you all.
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