Are other incest survivor’s like me? Deep, sometimes heavy (emotionally), placing others needs above our own, self-protective, yearning, running on empty, loving and hating, trying to please and feeling deflated? Do they wrestle with darkness, brightness burns their eyes? Sunglasses don’t help!
I venture out onto Incest blogs, read articles, etc., and have done for years. I relate, but without connection. I was a victim of what he chose to do, and he did have a choice, we all do, immediately and sometimes eventually. As an 11 year-old girl, I didn’t have a choice, he was my keeper and supposedly my protector. He did ‘keep’ me for his own selfish purposes and he absolutely did not protect me, other than from outside elements and starvation.
At 11, I was a victim of his choices, as an adult though I veer away from the word “victim” because it pulls in sympathy and pity and though I desperately needed those two sources of comfort when I was younger, at this point in life I can see clearly how what he chose to do has completely defined my life and who I am today – and though some may struggle with this idea – I am who I am today for better, or for worse, because of my incestuous relationship with him.
So I wonder how many people who have experienced incest have been able to find healing with the abuser? If they have, then has their life been better, easier because of the healing? Do they experience healthy relationships? Do they enjoy healthy and intimate sexual relationships? Are they free of addiction? I ask all this because I have repeatedly seen in life, in the world, so many victims who move through their lives plagued with all kinds of addictions and I wonder – are they the poor souls who carry torment and torture, filled with shame and self-blame? Are they moving through life searching for something to ease their anger and fear? Are they trying to feel safe? Are they unhinged just like they were the very first time they were touched in a place that should never have been touched and by a person who should never have been touching them?
Un-hinged – is that even a word? For me, it is – it’s a place where so much of my earlier life found solace, floundering around, no real sense of self, latching on to anyone who showed me the least bit of attention. Full Of Fear – Always!
More to follow ….