Since confronting my ex-family my recovery work seems to have entered a new phase. I’ve spent half-days heavily dissociating, curled up in bed, sometimes reacting compulsively as I uncover repressed memories of the abuse. It isn’t really related to depression–I’m drawn to lie in bed because that’s where so much of the abuse took place, primarily in my parent’s bed, though sometimes mine or my brother’s. So many scenes flood my mind while I’m lying there–at times I was tied up in my bed, or just left there, alone after the abuse, barely conscious. But what this whole process was building up to was something much more horrifying. I had a flashback where I was maybe six or seven years old and my brother was sexually abusing me in his bedroom. But we weren’t alone, his every move was being supported, if not directed, choreographed. As he beat and raped me I dissociated, I left my body and focused on the video camera behind us.
In the flashback it had such a disturbing, aggressive wobbly movement that made me feel so sick to see; because the person holding it was so excited, if not actually pleasuring themselves, grunting. There was actually video footage, as alone and trapped as I was, as filled with dead-end hopes of someone finding out and helping me, especially with my brother…as much as I had that people actually saw everything with their own eyes and recorded it for their personal pleasure. I can’t fucking believe that. How outrageously disgusting could you possibly be? I’ve found more memories, feelings since then…I was cornered, up against the wall and there were these cameras…behind them I could hear this deep, hideous laughter accented by beer and smoke. I know that laughter…any time I’ve heard something like it in my life since I’ve felt extreme anger and disgust.
I was forced to watch those tapes as a child, and I remember hearing my parents watching it alone, but it stops there. I have to ask, where are those tapes today? Did someone keep them, sell them, circulate them? Could someone be watching them right now? Will I ever know? It’s truly devastating to think about.
The flashback I received after confronting my family seems to point to the existence of some sort of child porn/pedophile ring. Of course it’s understandable enough that my parents would pick people as sick as them as friends, but this was something more organized. It’s maddening to know that my sick, corrupt, and disgusting parents actually allowed this to happen and orchestrated it themselves. I wonder how much money they made selling us? However much it was, that money sure as fuck didn’t go to taking care of me, making sure I had clothes, medical care, things I wanted… And they weren’t sorry, they were indignant; I can’t believe the amount of hypocritical self-righteousness that these people conducted themselves with. They wanted to be sure that I would always blame myself, never step out of their web of shame, guilt, and self-blame. So they pounded it in deep, with constant emotional abuse, screaming, put-downs.
My mother screamed “I don’t owe you anything.” Well guess what? You chose to have children, and you owed me safety, protection, kindness, understanding, nourishment, and basic needs. Which you did not give. After your criminal sexual, physical, and emotional abuse, you owed me a great deal more then just that. But you lorded it over me, you cast me out with PTSD, an eating disorder, crippling anxiety and depression, and then you thought you would spend a lifetime standing behind my shoulder, issuing criticism after criticism that I was so ‘incompetent,’ I made such ‘bad decisions,’ and when would I work harder to impress you? Give you grandchildren to abuse? You were the one with “entitlement” issues. You thought you were entitled to my body, to my life and you were dead wrong.
Today I feel a deeper sense of how unjustified the hypercritical blame put onto me was. My parents were petty, ugly, cruel people that were in effect going for broke. They were desperate, terrified lest I realize what happened to me and my self-worth, my rights (whether legally, politically, or personally.) They did not speak from a place of power. I’m glad today to know that it is their worst fears that are going to come true, not mine.