A bit more of my history, Continued from March 15, 19, and 29th entries.
Now that the courts had me at my sister’s house, there was good and bad there. I was very messed up because of the past that I had experienced, and my sister was still dealing with the effects of her abuse as well.
I roomed with her daughter, and she had two smaller sons. Her husband was nice and was the peacemaker of the household. Often he would pull her off of me, and get her to calm down when she was beating me or choking me.. I was not the best of people either, for I was hurting badly.
We settled down and I got used to a new school, for the first time I had friends my own age to play with, and I did very well in Junior High and High School. She was Luthern, so I finally got to attend a real church with the family, and got involved with the church’s youth group. While there were tensions at home, I had some good things happening around me. I got a chance to have a kind of normal life for a bit.
I was 15, and the hormones were raging, and I was very akward, I did not know how to act normal, and that would bother my sister a lot, because she felt that being in her home I should automatically revert to normal. But I wasn’t normal, didn’t know the first thing about it.
I am so grateful she opened up her house to me, I know now how tough that was for her, as I was a reminder of what she had escaped from by an early marriage. I made one big mistake though, and spent some time talking with the Pastor of the church we attended. I needed to talk about the hurt and pain, and the courts did not think I needed a social worker or anyone to help with the transition to my sister’s house. So I told the Pastor about the abuse I had received, shared some of the tough situations at my sister’s house. The Pastor went and told my sister about our talk, and she almost choked me to death. The nerve that I had to air our family’s dirty laundry with this pastor. I learned from that experience never to trust pastors, never to talk about my pain to anyone who was a minister. I figured they couldn’t be trusted. My sister was mortified because now her past was more public.
I still was hurting a lot, so I tried the guidance counselors at school, and one did the best thing she could and got me a social worker. This social worker convinced my sister (I am not stating a name for she is still alive), to get me therapy, so once a week we had to drive to the state hospital for treatment. Problem with clinics is that you get a new therapist ever six months or so, so once you finally build trust (something very difficult with abuse) you are off and running with a new therapist, and have to start all over again. Over the years of clinics that I went to, I ended up being able to summarize my past in less than an hour, of course the dah dah dah sort of presentation served to sever any emotions connected to the past from the past. I just by rote spelled out my history. My sister hated going to the state hospital, for she had to take her kids and they had to be around all the wierdos. When we drove she kept punching my arm, I had a permanent bruise on my left arm.
My sister had one of several surgeries during this time, this one was for ulcers, and since that time she has had 27 major surgeries. She has not learned to forgive my parents, and I really think that this lack of forgiveness eats her up inside literally. She has been high strung and it was not until the death of one of her children from cancer that she finally started getting some therapy, and it was after that that we were able to make amends. She is a good friend now, and we talk as much as we can, although we live far apart.
It was at this time that the hurting became to too much to bear, and I started feeble suicide attempts (when I went back to my mom’s house, the attempts were more serious). I would take asprin or any pill on the leftover pill shelf that my sister had, but never enough. One night I remember having to lay awake and tell myself to breath in, breath out, breath in, breath out for hours. I guess I still had a will to live. I spent hours composing poetry about death, reading books about death, and thinking about death. Things seemed so hopeless and I was filled with despair.
But, at the same time I also had a babysitting job, had some sort of social life, and the sexual abuse stopped. My sister was not all evil, and we had some great times together as well. But walking in that house was filled with landmines pf emotional outbursts from her.
My parents sent $25 in support each week for me, barely covering expenses. And my sister would talk with my mom. She still wanted her parents to be involved with her kids. One Christmas we had to go over to the house and spend a few hours with my parents. Nothing like walking into the house, looking at my bedroom and having to interact with my father and mother. It was horrid. But I kept wondering if things would have changed, would he have stopped or not, but I know that the abuse would not have stopped.
It was also at this time that nightmares started coming up. There were times when it felt like my father was sitting on my bed, the memories would come and I would wake up in a cold sweat. Even today I still have flashbacks and nightmares about the past. Fortunately my husband is understanding and there are certain ways that I can’t stand to be touched, and he honors that.
When I was 16 my father died from coronary thrombosis, and my mom made him out to be a hero. I had to attend the funeral, and pretend to be sad at his death – I felt nothing. And my mom was crying, which did not make sense to me because he hurt her too.
When I was 17, my sister’s husband got transferred to another state and my sister did not want to bring me with her. The social worker spoke with my mom and my mom agreed to have me back to her house. She was a worse alcoholic than before, but I moved back. I knew my sister did not want me. And my mom was mad at me because she believed it was because of me that my father died, because I had caused them so much embarassment.
Now, many of you xangians seem to be in school to become pastors, I don’t know what the protocall is for talking with guardians when a child confides in you, but please know that if you share some of the things confided in you, you can cause a lot of damage. Not only can the child be hurt, but you will then hurt the trust of the child in God and in the office of pastor. Of course, with today’s laws, you may have to speak out or risk problems. I don’t know the solution to that, but I really never wanted to speak to another pastor again. It is really due to Pastor Don that I ever spoke to one in confidence. He has not broken my confidence once, thank God.
I know that I started praying to God, and it was at the time that the Good News Bible came out, and I read a lot of Luthern devotional books, wanting so much to have that relationship with God. It was not forthcoming. I am beginning to see that in order to have a relationship with God there has to be a willingness on my part to trust God too. I was not trusting at that time. God had let me down big, and I still did not have the answer to my big questions.
What is distressing to me is that I suspect that if I ever do hear from God about my situation, it is going to be a Job like answer, who created the heavens, can you add one more year to a life, can you tell the sun to rise, etc. Please, it is hard and right now I want a simple answer that I can understand. The idea of just relying on God’s sovereingty is difficult. I am bristling at that.
The next segment will be my time with my mom and some of the ways that I reacted to my past that I wish I did not do. I was not only an innocent victim, I sinned as well, hating, not forgiving, and wanting to hurt myself. I rebelled big time against God and anything connected with God. Sought much and found nothing.
Even though God seems to be reticent to answer my questions, I have to say that God is the best thing going. In my studies I find that the Bible holds together so well, and even though I feel so challenged navigating in Christianity, I also know that it is where I belong. But in many ways I feel like a toddler trying to learn the rules. And I feel that I fail often.
Right now there are health issues with my husband, and some other worries that I am also battling. It is very challenging and taking so much of the little faith that I have.
Will write more tomorrow, and you will find out why I am so grateful that God could forgive me, and so surprised that He would given my rebellion.
Heather