When nightmares become reality

This post is difficult and has occurred in steps. The title sat in draft form for a while and I'm not sure how long the body will take.

How does it begin? Maybe it is good to set the context first. My parents divorced when I was 10. My mom left my dad for another man and my siblings and I were left with my dad.

We were with him for only a few months, but my memory of the time is so askew that I thought we were with him for a year or more. As a matter of fact, for a long time, I had memory of only 3 things during that time. I couldn't remember anything else. I always thought that was strange, because I was 10 then, and I could remember things from before that time.

Anyway, over the years, I've had a lot of confusion over thoughts, behaviors, dreams, and visions.

I remember living in the trailer (we moved from there when I was 9) and masturbating when I was in like kindergarten. I was 5-6 and doing that. I also remember getting in trouble because my uncle caught me asking a sibling to watch my "sex dance." I was around the same age. My mom got after me for that.

Over the years I've wondered why I knew about stuff like that at such a young age, but I dismissed it.

I don't remember anything like that again until my mom left. Then, my dad would have me sleep in his bed.

Only as an adult did I start to even remember any of this. I started to dream about it and is have "visions," that were like memories, because I'd see them in my mind's eye, but I was so disturbed by them that I'd push them away....I thought I was being weird or sick. My thoughts were of my dad....humph. I can't even call him that anymore.

My memories, as I know them now to be, really invaded my life about 3 years ago. I have no idea what triggered them, but they came to me almost every night.

The memory was of being in my father's bed. I think I was asleep, because I'd be half asleep when it happened. He'd get close to me, up against my back, put his left arm across my side, his left leg on mine, then rub himself against my butt. I remember him saying, "It's ok, baby. Just lay still." I swear, I think he even told me it was just a dream, but I'm not sure.

I'm not going to say on here how I finally figured out that this actually happened and that I wasn't just weird, because that's not my story to tell. I'm just telling my story here.

There is a part of me that is relieved. I now know that I'm not a sicko with weird thoughts about my da...father. However, there is a bigger part of me who is pissed and wants to make him suffer for what he did.

All these years I've had this undefinable fear pertaining to my kids. I remember being paranoid if C slept next to his dad and I didn't know why. For whatever reason, I'd nmove C to the other side of me when his dad came to bed, and/or turned toward C. Now I know why.

When I had Kathryn all those thoughts of someone hurting her flooded my mind....I was obsessed with such thoughts and even thoughts of killing someone if she was hurt. I didn't understand this. Now I do.

My behavior as a child makes sense now. My drive for perfection. The fact that when I was 10, I lost weight so I could wear my little sister's jeans. She is 5 years younger than me. I remember feeling so proud when I could button them. My inability to remember most of my life in Augusta (the time when it happened).

I was a sleepwalker when I was younger too...and I learned today that that is also a symptom...but that started before moving to Augusta.

So many things make more sense.

My eating disorder, my cutting, my depression, my dermatilomania, my promiscuity, and my distrust of men. My early masturbation. My early knowledge of sex.

Now I know it actually happened, but when did it begin? I have a memory at the trailer of a poker night. My parents would play poker with friends and get drunk. For some reason I have a distinct memory of one night. I remember coming from another room, I think it was with my dad and someone else. I still can't figure it out, but for years that's been my memory.

I just don't remember and I'm not sure I want to.

There is a part of me that wonders if it happened after my mom was drunk, so she'd not know anything. I know she'd gave done something if she knew.

I'm so angry. I also feel so stupid. All these years I've maintained a relationship with him, not knowing that he did this to me...that I should hate him. That I should want to kill him.

I remember him hurting my brothers. They'd be giggling in bed, when we were all supposed to go to sleep. They got tickled like kids do...not doing anything wrong, really. Dad would get so mad and he'd get the belt and beat them with it. It was not a spanking....he beat them. As he did, I'd curl up with my sister and cry. 

The boys would stop giggling then.

I want him to suffer. I think it is unfair that he just goes on like nothing happened and he can have the audacity to send me Christian literature and throw Bible verses at me, but he has never showed remorse for what he did to his kids. I feel the urge to throw some literature of a different sort at him.

I want him to feel ashamed. To feel stupid. To feel embarrassed. I want him to hate himself. I want him to wish to die....

All like I did, but didn't really understand why.

Now I wonder, do I dare publish this? Do I give voice to this like I have other things? Will this empower me or shatter me?

I know there are people out the who KNOW me who might read this. To put myself out there like that is scary. I don't like to feel vulnerable. I don't want to be treated differently. I don't want to seem weak to others. I don't want to be talked about...I don't want people to think I'm weird.

I'm the same person, only now I KNOW.

I think I'm going to do it. Giving voice to things sometimes loosens the hold they have. Getting it out and away from me might help.

Fuck!
I'm a fucking statistic and I'm so incredibly furious!!
I hate that son of a bitch.
I want him to suffer.

*******
4 hours later:

I can't get this off my mind.

I keep asking myself what this post has to do with motherhood, considering the title/purpose of this blog and I think it has a lot to do with it.

I have a daughter and when I look at her now, I think if me as a little girl...I wonder, "How could a dad do such a thing to his little girl." Today the tears have come....I've held my little girl tight, rocked her to sleep, and kissed her little head. I had her sleep with me last night too, just so she was close to me. I felt the need to protect her. To keep her near me.

I am realizing that the one I'm hugging and protecting is me, the child Sunny who was not protected back then.

Maybe it's a good thing I never figured all of this out before now. Maybe I would have actually been successful in my suicide attempts. Maybe I'd have overdosed. Who knows. I just know that at the age of 36 this is all almost too much to deal with...I can't imagine being any younger and having to deal with this.

I just know that I'll protect my little girl. I'm going to help her build a  healthy relationship with herself and let her know she can always come to me if she needs me. I did the same for my boys and I'll do this for her.

I know she has a wonderful daddy who will also protect her. He will never do to her what my father did to me. Of this, I'm sure.

I'm not going to let this get me down. "Just because it burns doesn't mean you're gonna die."

Thanks, Pink, for this lyric.
I'm making it my mantra.

I know the source of problems I've had for so long.....all that time I'd keep saying, "drinking, or drugs, or my ED, or my dermatillomania, or whatever...is not the problem. It's a symptom of a problem." The thing was, I had no idea what the problem was.

Now I do.
Now I can take control of my life.

I can't just put this on the back burner and try to be hard, like I usually do. I actually think maybe I should find someone to talk to. I wonder if there are support groups around here. Maybe I should join one. Maybe having support would help.

I'm just glad to know I'm not crazy. That I didn't let what happened to me affect my boys. I did not perpetuate the abuse, as often happens with people. I overcame it. Of course I didn't consciously remember it, but I did have a lot of disturbing thoughts over the years....I didn't understand them and thankfully I didn't act on them.

I think this is mark of a strong will and spirit.

I will get past this.
It will not define me.
It will not destroy me.