The cat is out of the bag.

Yesterday, I did what I had sworn, or parts or myself at least, that I would never, ever do. For my own protection and for my mother’s sake.

I can’t say it out loud but I can write it. I told her that I was sexually abused by my father. We have had major fights over the past several months, and last night, it got to the point where I just said, you know what, I don’t care. And that’s exactly what I did say. I got home from work and went downstairs to my mother’s “apartment” to ask her if we needed to straighten anything else out. She just turned her back and told me to read my email.

In my previous email to her, I told her that I had a right to be angry, and in her response, she said that if I find fault in everything she does, then of course I will think I have the right to be angry.

After I read that, I went downstairs and just said, “I’ve never told you this just because I wanted to keep from feeling guilty about dad. But I just don’t give a shit anymore.” All I could say was that the abuse was more than verbal. She asked if it was sexual and I said yes.

Point #1 that hurt me to the core: it mattered to her whether or not he completely “raped” me or not. That word makes me so squeamish… And for some reason I associate it with more “grown up” people. But I nodded.

Point #2 that hurt me to the core: she immediately admitted that she found him having sex with another woman in my room, with me in it, when I was two years old. She said she kicked him out, but she obviously let him back in and remained oblivious for years.

I should cut her some slack. And I’m trying to. But I am a complete and utter mess. And then I got into a car accident today, first ever, at my own fault.

I don’t know what to think but the pain of having her know is not relieving. It is suffocating.

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3 thoughts on “The cat is out of the bag.

  1. Hey Kashley –

    I just want you to know that everything your feeling makes perfect sense after everything you’ve been through, AND some of them aren’t true anymore.

    I have trauma. PTSD. When the wind is blowing hard here, the metal flap that covers the mail slot in the door rattles. It sounds like someone is coming in. It’s feels like I’m going to die.

    The feelings are true, they are real, they are mine. They are just in the wrong time. These are my feelings from being a child, stored up, and leaking out every time the wind blows. So my work is to say – hey, I’m allowed to be shit terrified, AND I can remind myself that I’m safe in the now, even though it feels the opposite.

    I’m so proud of you – what strength you have gained to be able to say these words (or nods) to your mother. Keep going, and know that if you wanted to email/text off blog if be willing. I’m here for you.

    Keep going!!

    1. Thank you! It’s been so long since I’ve written on this blog. I think I was very dissociative when I wrote that because I can’t remember writing it…I honestly forgot I even wrote a post until I got the notification that you had commented. Then I came on here and read what I wrote, praying that it wasn’t horrible! These past few days have been very trying. Various parts of myself all have very conflicting feelings about my mother knowing. Most of them are terrified and just want to pretend it didn’t happen. At the moment, I am indulging those parts, because it’s too hard to accept the rest right now.

  2. Kashley,

    I haven’t checked your blog for awhile because you hadn’t been posting. I was glad to see an entry from you because I had hoped you were doing okay. I’m proud and amazed you were able to tell your mother and I also hope you haven’t had repercussions from revealing such a personal, terrifying secret. I understand, trust me.
    I don’t know if your writing is therapeutic to you, but I will tell you (which I have before) it is a source of therapy for me in knowing I’m not alone in struggling and healing! It’s a long journey…..

    Take good care of yourself

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