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About a year and a half ago there was an event in my life that re-triggered those old suicidal feelings for me. I found a good therapist in my area to re-explore this old crap. Hehehe! We got a lot of excellent work done which lead me to a point where I wanted to arrange to see my perpetrator (dad) again. I had cut off communication with him twenty years ago and the freedom from ever seeing him again was heavenly. I had heard through my dysfunctional family "grapevine" that dad had been having mini strokes. I knew that if I were to finally have closure on my issues that I needed to see him before he dies. I also wanted to do everything in my power to protect all children from falling into his csa trap. To spare you the long winded version; the trip went well. I am back in communication with him and his current wife. As long as someone in my family does not sabotage my efforts. Dad has lost much mental capacity due to the strokes. I went there prepared to have a little review session with him regarding his sins against me and the rest of the family. I have 7 years hospital experience as an ER tech, and ICU Monitor tech. I am therefore able to assess dad's mental status. I found him to be dramatically altered mentally, and somewhat physically, to the approximate reasoning level of an 8-10 year old boy. There was no point in kicking this poor old dog. It would be like beating a puppy with a stick and I don't do that kind of stuff. At this point I am focused on getting to know him in his current state but, more importantly getting to know his current wife. They were only newlyweds when I cut off communication with them. I live two states away from the rest of my family. (This is no accident.) Historically on an average I see family members every few years or so. Therefore, it is going to take time before I will be in a position to remind her how dangerous my dad can be if left alone with her grandchildren or any other children. He is of course even more dangerous now that his reasoning ability is compromised. One of the unfortunate side effects of him getting away with his crimes, is that I never pursued it legally so, he did no prison time. This makes it so much easier for the family denial to captain the ship of dysfunction. If he were a registered sex criminal like he should be, then it would be real for everyone involved and, the problem would resolve itself. In the meantime my mother is very angered by the fact that I am on good terms with him and his wife. As you can imagine seeing dad again has opened up old junk for me, and I kinda need my mommy right now. Hehe! Well, she has forbidden me to call her and is unwilling to respond to any of my emails or texts for days on end. In other words she is making all of this about her again. The first time she was informed about the csa was when I was 24 years old and pregnant with my only child 32 years ago. I confronted Dad in a therapeutic environment to establish boundaries to protect my unborn child from his csa. Mom and Dad divorced over the whole thing and she went into a serious depression that lasted for many years. The family blames me of course for all of this. Anyway, she got a pass from me back then because, even I kinda thought the whole divorce was my fault. I know better now, but the family still subconsciously mentally tortures me over the aftermath I have suffered. They don't know that they are doing it, but they still are "gaslighting" and using me as a "scapegoat" for their dysfunctional behaviors. Mom has no valid excuse for pushing me away now. She should be there for me but, you know how that goes sometimes. The link below takes you to an excellent article on how insidious gaslighting is in our society. Us survivors have been the unfortunate recipients of this sophisticated type of manipulation, particularly from our own families but, from society as well. So, I am currently dealing with the mommy issues that are inconspicuously tied into the chain of abuse. I hope that people find this blog ironically amusing, interesting and encouraging. After all isn't this journey, something like a "dramedy", filled with twisted and somewhat dark humor? Laughter is great medicine! -Dasi http://www.huffingtonpost.com/yashar-hedayat/a-message-to-women-from-a_1_b_958859.html
The other day my mom asked me "Remember that time you ran away and the cops found you down at that park?" the questions she asked blurred into "I think I know what happened but I 1) can't believe it and 2) Will if you open up to me". She's not so eloquent though and asks things like "How did you get all the way out there?" and "What were you doing out there?". That has always been something that comes up in my memory frequently. But when she asked about this I couldn't bring myself to tell her that the 35 year old man the cops found me in that car with was my first at 12 years old. There are many things I remember distinctly; the taste and smell, his little brother's bunk bed, the way the white of his eyes stood out in the dark, and my favorite was his voice impressions. He could do Donald Duck among other things. I remember the exact cell phone that I had, a small pearl blue one without texting. But I can't remember his face, the car he drove, or the way we met. That has been what is bothering me lately; How could I forget? I can remember the position, scrambling for our clothes, putting on his shirt because I couldn't find mine. The cops asked questions, "No, we didn't do anything". I'm sure that they expected to find two teens escaping to the park but instead found a victimized, confused 12 year old girl with a full grown man. I remember them telling my mom that they couldn't do anything if I said nothing happened. I found and changed to my own shirt and went home. But I can't remember him standing there by the nearby tree, I can't remember how muscular or scrawny he was without his shirt on. It's always bothered me, and sometimes I wonder if I could remember more could I have stopped the other times from happening? Would I have seen the signs? To this day I live guilty that I can't be with a man of the same ethnicity because to me all his is is a full grown man that broke the trust of a young girl. A faceless man with skin, a motive, and a way of making me feel treasured. I can remember his girlfriend's voice when she picked up his phone finally one day. "Who is this?" "This is his girlfriend." "How old are you?". It turned out that she was pregnant with his child. Sometimes I want to sit down with that young woman and tell her I'm sorry that she had to find out her child's father was a pedophile from me in such a crude way. I had no idea at the time how wrong the whole situation was back then, I just knew he was cheating on us. I know all these things, sometimes it all comes back to me in a rush. It's like a nagging feeling that something isn't right. I feel like I need to know his face, how he got me... but I can't remember. It was 12 years ago now and even today I find that the guilt of the experience creeps into my every day life. I have moved on but not moved on, it still hurts. How could I forget things so important?
The sky is blue during the day, on bouncy clouds birdies play. Then the yellow sun turns white, and the blue sky turns black at night. Sometimes clouds get sad and cry, And their tears fall down from the sky. Note: Prompt was to write about the sky in a poem, in the eyes of a 7 year old you. This is pretty much how I figure I'd have regarded the sky when I was 7.