Last week, I talked with Mama Bear about one of the memories that has ranked highest on my “impossible to tell” list. Actually, when it first came back again about a year ago (from my journals, I see that it first, first came out years ago, but I had forgotten it), I was so shocked, horrified, mortified, and repulsed that it was one of the two or three things that I had to call her about immediately after the memory came out and struggle through telling her what the type of abuse was, just because I felt so crazy with what I was remembering. At that time she gently helped me to say what I needed to, reassured me that the type of abuse that I was talking about wasn’t unheard of and that it wasn’t my fault, and did her best to help me find as much comfort and grounding as possible. Within a day or two, I wrote an e-mail to her with a few of the details, asking her to “hold” them for me, and then hadn’t mentioned it since then. I certainly never said anything about it to her person.
There are three types of memories with my grandfather that I consider the worst. The first I talked about with her earlier this summer and I see that one as being the most intensely overwhelming type of abuse for me. The abuse that I am talking about now left me feeling subhuman and was the most demeaning and disgusting. The last type was the most terrifying. Around the time that I talked about the first type of abuse, I almost talked about this abuse as well, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do so.
One of the perils of hiding things that I have discovered is that all of those things that I don’t deal with can pile up against each other and suddenly I may find myself in a place where I need to deal with Z, but I have been hiding from W, X, and Y, which need to be dealt with before I can hope to deal with Z. That happened last week. I realized that I have Z issue that is affecting my relationship with my husband, but that is related to Y way of experiencing myself and touch, which is linked into X memories with my father. That particular abuse by my father was especially toxic because it became linked to W abuse by my grandfather. To even be able to start to address this in therapy, I was going to have to go all the way back and start to deal with these memories with my grandfather and then work my way through everything else that I have been hiding from Mama Bear.
It was a fight to even start to get anything out about it because I was so overpowered by my feelings of shame, revulsion, and the deep expectation that she would withdraw in horror. I asked her to move a chair to sit next to me and hold my hand, so I could feel that tangible physical support and connection, while I flailed around inside, struggling against everything that was trying to keep me silent.
“This is so hard to talk about. I am so ashamed and disgusted by it.”
“You do know that it isn’t really yours to be ashamed about, don’t you? He is the one who is responsible for what happened.”
“Yes, I understand that. I really do. But inside I just don’t feel that way. I just know that it seems like what happened makes me believe that I have to be as horrible and disgusting as I felt while it was happening.”
There was another long pause as I struggled some more and then she said, “You really want to tell me about this, don’t you?”
“Yes, I am so damn tired of being alone with it. I don’t want to be alone with it anymore. I have been for too long already!” I paused and then pushed out, “Do you remember when I told you about W?”
Mama bear took a slow breath and gently said, “Yes, I do.”
I then just doubled over with my face on our hands and sobbed while shaking. I let myself feel held by her calm and caring presence as the young part of me who has carried this burden all of these years could finally let go of clenching it close to her in hiding. It was safe for me to let out all of the feelings of disgust, confusion, terror, and the certainty that if anyone knew what had happened, they would never be willing to touch me again. Shaking the whole time, I went back and forth between crying and talking.
“It just felt so disgusting while it was happening. It still makes me feel disgusting and dirty!” I don’t remember what she said in response, but I do know that those feelings have eased a bit now.
“It was just too much! How could anyone do something that cruel to a child?” I looked at her, feeling bewildered.
“We don’t know what happened to him to make him that way, but it seems that he might have been a sadist.”
I stared at her, “You think?!?”
“Remember, you haven’t told me as much about what happened as you think that you have! But from what you have said, yes, I do think that it is safe to say that he was a sadist.”
I cried again, because it was such a relief to hear it said out loud. I have long been convinced that he enjoyed being “inventive” with all of the ways that he could hurt, humiliate, and terrify me, but I wasn’t sure that anyone would ever believe me that he got pleasure out of hurting me. There is something that is damaging in a particular way when you experience someone else getting a kick out of finding different ways to reach inside and harm you. For me it was particularly dehumanizing, because it made me feel like some perverse toy that was only there for his pleasure.
But now, while I still wasn’t able to talk about all of the details of the experiences and how I felt, I was able to talk about some of them and I was able to experience my feelings while someone compassionately listened to me and held me both literally and figuratively. It was safe to be human. It was safe to feel. It was safe to share the real me and what I have experienced.
I looked at Mama Bear, “Deep inside, I absolutely expected for you to withdraw in disgust and horror.”
“Do you feel me withdrawing?”
“No.”
“What do you see on my face?”
“Concern. Caring.”
“No disgust?”
“No.”
“Good, I feel no disgust what-so-ever for you, C. And I feel no need to withdraw from you.”
Often, after such an intense session, I experience some sort of repercussions, but I didn’t that day. Instead, my experience was that the child part that had shared still felt safe and my protector parts hadn’t been aroused. That would come, but for that day, I just felt relief at finally being able to talk about what happened and cry while holding the hands of someone whom I know loves me. I needed to be held while I told my mother what happened over 40 years ago, but I was convinced that she would withdraw in disgust. I can’t change what happened then, but at least now I can finally tell.
Note: I struggled over whether or not to state in general what the abuse was related to, because while it was unusual, it is not unheard of. It also isn’t talked about, though. And not being able to talk about it only helps to give the abuse power but it keeps all of us who have lived through it in isolation, thinking that no one else experienced the same depravity. I am not at the point where I can name it, though. Simply talking about it at all is the best that I can do for now. Maybe someday. Maybe even before very long I will be able to write and say what it was, because it really isn’t my shame. It was my body that was involved, but my grandfather was in control. And while I don’t want to trigger people, I also think that it needs to be OK to say, “There are some really sick people out there who do these things to children. It sounds too awful to be true, but it really does happen.”
sending love and comfort. you have been so brave in telling Mamabear. it is hard to feel that we weren’t at fault even though we might know it in our heads xxx
Thank you. Yes, it takes a lot longer to change how we feel about/ experience ourselves than it does to come to recognize that our beliefs are wrong. If only insight was enough to create instant internal change!!
❤ no words but it helped me not feel so alone
I am very glad that it helped you feel less alone. That is why I wrote it, so that both I and others with similar experiences could feel less isolated.
Reading and hearing how much courage you have to share your story.
Thank you, Grace!
You have such courage. I’m glad that you could ease your burden by sharing it with Momma Bear.
Thank you. Not having to carry it alone makes all of the difference.
I totally understand. You know who this is right? I just shut down my other blog.
I didn’t figure it out until after I responded, but yes, I now know. 🙂
Okay good. Sorry about that. xo
No problem! I was kind of confused though. “How can I be following this person who I don’t even know?!?” I clicked on your link and then it all made sense.
Yes I tried to let as many people know as I could that I was shutting down. I did a post about it yesterday. Sorry. It’s been such a busy day I didn’t get the chance to email more people.
You told me, which is why I was following you, it’s just that things have been, well, intense here lately. I had forgotten.
Oh good! Geeze my memory. It sounds like things have been really hard.
They are better for now, but I had another major rupture with Mama Bear on Wednesday. Bad enough that I cancelled therapy with her until after our move is over (3 or 4 sessions worth when I made the decision.) At the same time as I was making that decision, she decided that she needed to take an unscheduled break this week with no contact at all with her clients. (She’s exhausted between personal issues, overwork, and not taking enough time off.)
I was able to regroup enough to meet with her yesterday, after all, and I was able to look at a lot of what was triggered for me, so things are better. Still, things are still a bit unsteady and there is no contact for the next week and a half.
We are closing on our new house next week and moving early in the following week, so we are stressed to the max about that.
It was my birthday last Monday, which brought up all sorts of difficult stuff. It is my mother’s birthday in two days.
And then there simply is all of this intense material that I am trying to deal with.
I’m having a bit of trouble staying on my feet, which is part of the reason I flipped out on Mama Bear on Wednesday when she said that she was tired and then proceeded to talk about my needing to work on relying on other resources more. Major, major mother related trigger.
Oh man that’s a lot of stuff all at once. I’m feeling for you. I had no idea you found a house so congrats on that!
If you need to chat feel free to email me. I just want you to know that you’re not alone xo
Thank you. The only thing good to be said about my flipping out on Mama Bear is that it is a reflection of how safe I actually find her. I now know that I can let these reactions emerge (and they always are incredibly important for my healing) because I have an underlying confidence that I can work things out with Mama Bear. No matter how much I flip out, she will remain steady.
Yes as hard as it is, it’s crucial to know that the relationship you have can survive the hard times. It builds trust. Having said that, I’m sure I would totally panic if I had a hard time with my T, I don’t know that I’d be in a place to be able to tell her if I was upset with her. I’ve actually never done that with a therapist. Scary stuff.
I think honestly the idea that he enjoyed getting pleasure out of hurting someone small, vulnerable, and helpless is the only reasonable explanation. And I very much believe that your grandfather did those things to you. Some people are like that. I think perhaps that is what naturally happens when human beings do not develop or are not capable of empathizing. Others’ emotional responses become a kind of computer game for them. If I do this, then the other does that. If I do that, the other does this. There is a search for a response with no ability to form a connection. Pain, fear, horror, disgust, and shame are all very powerful responses–especially from children, who haven’t yet learned to regulate their emotions. Your grandfather didn’t see anyone as human. He didn’t know how. Everyone was a toy to him. Some toys were just more fun and more accessible to him than others.
Wow. This rings so true. “Others’ emotional responses become a kind of computer game for them. If I do this, then the other does that.” It’s like you saw him in action.
I’m so glad you are hanging in there, Cat! This is a rough patch, for sure. But it does get better–as we know. And, yes, I completely relate to the label of “sadist” as applied by your therapist to your abuser. When my therapist described my former husband using that label, I knew she had “gotten” it. What a relief that somebody other than me had finally recognized him for what he was and had said the word aloud! For so long I had battled within myself thinking, “Oh, he couldn’t have been that awful. It’s just my imagination. Besides, I deserved what he did.” But when my therapist responded with the word “sadist,” I knew that it had not been my imagination and I had not deserved being treated that way.
Furthermore, she went on to tell me that, as people say, it was “all about him” and not about me. As she said, I happened to be the one present that he could act out upon, a convenient captive, but he would probably have done the same to anyone given the same circumstances. I thought about what she said, and then I became angry–VERY ANGRY! Much healthier!
When I looked back over my childhood at the abuses I endured, including the horrific incidents of sexual assault when I was four and later when I was in elementary school, I can see that a similar principle applies–I happened to be in the wrong place at the right time for my abusers. They took advantage of that fact to act out their sicknesses. The victim could have been anyone who had been “trappable.” The fact that I was the victim said nothing about me and everything about the abusers.
I hope this helps, Cat. Blessings . . .
I believe that you are right. I was a convenient target. For my grandfather, it was like my parents gift wrapped me and delivered me to him when they went away together and left me. I know that he took his cruelty out on others. I saw him be verbally cruel to complete strangers that he felt like he had some power over- waitresses mainly. He almost always reduced my mother to years. I know that he physically, emotionally, and psychologically abused his sons (I strongly suspect that he sexually abused my dad). Years ago an older cousin confessed to him making her look at pornography with him and that she was afraid that there was more. I honestly think that he took advantage of every target that he could. I am afraid for a younger cousin who lived a few doors down from him for 2 or 3 years, starting when she was 5 or so. Fortunately her mother divorced my uncle (legally her father, but not actually) and got her out of there.
He was a very, very sick man.
Hi, Cat–
You might be interested in reading my latest blog post. It’s on my Google blog, but I’m going to post it also to my WP blog. I hope it’s okay that I paid a tribute to you and to your blog. Take care . . .
Wow. I am touched and flattered. Just wow.
[…] her personality parts, ego states. Here is the link to her blog and the post I read this morning: https://livingwhilehealing.wordpress.com/2014/07/26/telling-the-untellable/. […]
I just found your blog today, I think. And I am so glad I did. I had lots of unspeakable abuse….stuff that I never heard of anybody else experiencing. I’ve searched and searched for mention on the Web, with no success. So thank you for sharing that you had unspeakable things happen to you.; I don’t know if they are at all similar to mine, but just to know that somebody else has experienced that feeling of what was wrong with me is really affirming for me even though I wish no such thing ever happened to anybody else.
Welcome to my blog! I am sorry that your experiences have led you here, but hope that it can be helpful to you.
There is a blog by Faith Allen called Blooming Lotus. It isn’t active, but it’s still up. That is where I found some things about some of the weirder types of abuse that I experienced and it helped a great deal to make me feel less alone and bizarre.
Sometimes it’s hard to remember, but it does help to keep reminding myself that he was the one with the horribly, horribly sick mind that came up with these things. He was the one who really made all of the decisions, even when he gave me the illusion of choices. While the abuse made me feel horrible then and the memories can still bring up feelings of horror and disgust, it couldn’t make ME horrible. It came from him; he was the sours
Sorry, posted by accident! He was the source of the horror, not me.
I don’t know if that can help you at all know, but it might be something to tuck in the back of your mind. Take good care of yourself on this arduous journey.