In the wake of proof

Photocredit: Yann!s
Photocredit: Yann!s

Knowing I have scar tissue has changed my life I think. It’s like an incontrovertable validation of what I’ve been saying all along. No longer can I doubt or go into denial about the accuracy of my memory. I know what happened and I was accurate all along. It is an immense relief.

The other thing about it is I am more in touch with my own vagina, which is not so good on the one hand because I’m in mild discomfort most of the time. but is good because it allows me to be aware and take care of my body instead of just numbing that part of my body out. I think in the long run this is an incredibly good thing. It’s what I wanted, to have my body be my own, and to have no part of me belong to him any more out of my own fear to be in touch with horrors.

I have written a separate letter to my mother to let her know about the scar tissue and ask that she write me and let me know what she remembers. I don’t know if I will send it. I should not be surprized she hasn’t written me yet: when given the opportunity my mother will always bail, will always avoid doing anything that makes her uncomfortable and this surely must overwhelm and horrify her.

I want to tell my family “see, I have proof, you need to believe and support me now”, however, really, I doubt it will change anything with them for me. Denial is a powerful force. It is the societal denial that interests me most now. We have to start believing children and making it safe for them to tell.

I have a therapy appointment on Monday and am looking forward to talking this over with my therapist. This changes everything for me, and I don’t know what to do next.

I realize at some levels I have been depressed for awhile, a low level depression, really not sadness as much as a lack of happiness. I’ve been taking some vitamins, meditating and trying to get more sleep and it seems to be helping. Today I had two moments of happiness. I got a book from the library on singing – Anne Peckham’s Vocal Exercises for the Contemporary Singer. It has a guided warmup and then some more advanced exercises for sopranos. I’ve been doing the warmup exercises a few times a week and today was the first time I did the advanced exercises. It was exhilarating to sing in my high clear voice and to find the places where the voice rings and resonates. I had some advanced voice training about a decade ago, and had thought I’d lost that ability. Apparently not. Apparently all I needed was to warm up and work out my voice and it came back. I was singing for the joy of it and full of the joy of it like I haven’t in a long time.

The second flash came as I was walking back from some errands, and passed by a park I like which has some tall beautiful trees. I looked over at one I particularly like and felt a flash of joy in the rich greens of the leaves against a clear blue sky and the peaceful park.

Photocredit: Greekadman
Photocredit: Greekadman

I am emerging, like coming up from under a pool of cool water into a clear day.

0 thoughts on “In the wake of proof”

  1. Pingback: What I’ve learned about happiness | May We Dance Upon Their Graves

  2. Sword Dance Warrior, (btw, I love the name)

    My “mother” lied to me as an adult too. She said she didn’t know anything. That is an outright LIE. Not only did she know, she facilitated and participated.

    I will NEVER be able to understand how a woman would want to stay with a man, much less have sex with a man, who has sex with children.

    I too have let go of wanting my mother to be different, and forgive her for everything, but will never ever understand the mind of such evil.

    As I am sure you know, you are your own mother now.

    Treat yourself well.

    1. Althea,
      Ditto on the why anyone would stay with/sleep with a man who raped children, particularly one’s own children, but really any children. Barring complete captivity, I’d be out the door so fast, no matter the consequences. I could always tell my mom was revulsed by my dad, but that didn’t make her leave him. Yup, definitely my own mother now. Since so many of our mothers seem to do this (collaborate and then lie about it) there must be some sort of reason, Stockholm syndrome or grooming or just our abusers knew how to pick ’em, which I suppose I have an interest in knowing about, but it sure doesn’t let her off the hook.

      Blessings to you,

  3. Pingback: What I learned about health care and survivors (part 1) | May We Dance Upon Their Graves

    1. @alethamarinova for me, my mother betrayal is different from the abuser because I knew my dad was evil from early on, and that was never a secret among my siblings and even with my mother. My mother I actually believed was good and loved me, which made me more vulnerable to certain kinds of mind games from her. It’s kind of like the difference between being badly mauled by a bear (the sociopathic abuser) and being beaten by someone you thought you could trust. The injuries from the bear are greater, but the damage to both self trust and other trust with the second is, I wouldn’t say worse, but really bad for sure.

      1. I had a similar experience in that I always retained the knowledge (before I remembered the incest) that my father had a violent temper and had an alcohol problem.

        But until I began to recall the incest, I had always thought my mother was this good church-going woman who was more victim-like, and who would never harm a child. Remembering the truths about my father’s ‘other ugly side’ allowed me to finally face my mother’s monster side and her hypocrisy.


        1. Yes, I thought my mother was a martyr too, until I realized she would have had to have known about my vaginal injuries from the first rape, and decided to stay. She also lied to me about it, saying she didn’t know. I think what she was saying that she didn’t know he hadn’t kept her bargain with her and was still hurting me, not that she didn’t know he raped me at all. I can perhaps understand in time, and let go of wanting it to be different, which is about what forgiveness looks like for this kind of thing, but mother privileges she doesn’t get, ever.

  4. aletheamarinanova

    It sounds like you and I have similar backgrounds, especially with regards to a mother in willful denial. I think you ought to send the letter. I sent mine, and it was the most difficult, yet the best thing I ever did. You might not receive any validation from her but when you send it, you release yourself from keeping things in that ought to be said. We can make ourselves literally sick by holding in emotions and truths.

    You might want to check out my Blog, it has a lot of info that pertains to incest and repressed memories, and my forthcoming book deals in depth with family denial and how to triumph over the family backlash.

    I agree that there is a difference between depression and a lack of joy. I have experienced both. My depression was complicated and related to many things, but my lack of joy and allowing myself to experience joy was connected to my desire to have sex with my father. I enjoyed some of what we did together and that guilt -embedded by my mother- manifested itself as an adult when I understood that the incest was wrong, that I was tricked and betrayed about the pleasure. Yet I did not allow myself to experience joy and pleasure until I worked all that guilt out of my mind and body.

    In peace,

    1. Hi Alethea,
      I have sent one letter (it’s posted earlier in this blog), and yes it was a worthwhile thing to do for sure.

      I didn’t actually have much in the way for family backlash, which has been a blessing. Most of them at least say they believe me, including my mother, although her follow-through on that belief is abysmal.

      I haven’t known a lot of survivors who were groomed to the degree that they wanted sex with their abuser. I feel for you, that must be very icky, with the self-betrayal as well. I managed things by splitting off ‘day-daddy’ from ‘the monster’ so I could relate to him during ‘regular life’ – some of being nice to ‘daddy’ was a self-betrayal, in that he didn’t deserve any of it, but we all do what we have to to survive, so I don’t begrudge myself anything I did.

      I’m not saying I’ve never felt joy, for sure my wedding day I felt joy and at other times, just not lately.
      Mother-betrayal definitely sucks. I’m sorry you had to experience that.

      Peace back at you,

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  7. Hi SwordDanceWarrior,

    It is a whole different level that you are working on. Good for you for being able to focus your awareness on your vagina and work on being in your body, even when it is uncomfortable.

    I’m glad that you are getting some more progress with your singing. I think that you are coming a real long way. Good for you.

    Good and healing thoughts to you.


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