A Note From The Writer

Welcome to the archived blog posts (when I was a wee blogger, wet behind the ears and not aware of spell check and various other gramatical structures!) I have kept the writings unedited or reworked as I am in the process of doing a massive rewrite of my entire life, many posts I have yet to publish and this blog was merely writing practise for the massive job of sorting out my emotions whilst retelling the story as cuttingly real and dramatic as the real memory was.. some of the posts contained are raw, streaming emotion.. many posts although painful to write, had a tremendously cathartic effect - cheaper than therapy one would say. I welcome new and old readers to keep in touch via my author email (sensualexplorersatHotmaildotcom) if you have any questions or wish to share the feelings and emotions raised by my work.
I will announce the publish date and title whenever it happens and I have been clean now for three years. It is possible.
But it is never easy. It's a lifelong journey, I will always be an addict, but I must stay one step ahead of myself and protect all that can be ruined in the eternal struggle to be
at ease once again, comfortable in this skin.
Thank you for being a part of my story.

Monday, January 03, 2005

Bigger than my body

Someday I'll fly
Someday I'll soar
Someday I'll be
So damn much more
Cause I'm bigger than my body
Gives me credit for

Why is it not the time?
What is there more to learn?
I've shed this skin I've been tripping in
And I've never quite returned

Yes, I'm grounded
Got my wings clipped
I'm surrounded by
All this pavement
Guess I'll circle
While I'm waiting
For my fuse to dry

John Mayer - Bigger Than My Body

Confessions Part Three

The next day was the worse day to be in Grade Three. I slumped behind my school desk, peeling away at the laminate. I relieved the whole horrible night before, but my thoughts quickly turned grim, drowning out the teacher's morning math.
The night I confessed to my Parents, Adrian had fled to the neighbor's house in fear until Dad managed to cool down. However, Mum and Dad continued to argue way into the grey hours of early morning, their voices escalating into a heated debate about me. I sat up all night, quietly cheering for my Daddy from underneath the blankets.
Sadly, I could tell early on this was yet another fight my Father would lose against her. Whenever she didn't have his sympathy or attention, she started to sob, throwing clothes into the battered brown suitcase. It was a routine that worked rather well for her - I still remember that beaten brown luggage and the pain it stood for.
As she stood in the hallway clutching her bag of bravado,
she announced her departure to my silent father. She added that she was taking her kids with her, informing us that we would never see them again. I noticed that I wasn't considered as one of 'her kids'. In case you were wondering - I was his kid. (That was even my name sometimes!)

I winced with almost physical pain when Father pleaded with her to stay. He cut a deal with The Stepmother ; Adrian would stay at home with us - but - I would have to learn (all over again) how to fit into my new family. I felt crushed inside Dad had fallen back under The Stepmother's spell, she was back in power. I'd tried to hope for more than he could deliver. I guess for a rare moment there it almost - it almost - felt like the old days. Back in the days of Mummy and Daddy and me. Back then, when I was the baby and I was "pretty-pretty" as I rode proudly upon Daddy's shoulders. With my head almost scraping the heavens, from upon his shoulders I could rule the world with fistfuls of dreams ! Fathers are so very important - they show the child it's first steps into the world away from Mother. They lead the way unto special paths and secret futures, if you are a father - then you will know what I mean. Be a better dad - everyday - little children need good Daddies. Watch them rule the world with your love and support by their side!

I couldn't understand why Daddy never fought more? Had I somehow toppled from the towers of trust - deep into the land of never-never? I only knew that once I fell off - I was not invited back onto his shoulders. I never saw the world from those heights again.
Father and I never spoke of the abuse since that day.
That's remained the state of affairs since I was eight and now I'm 26 years old. I've been rebuffed countless times, trying to find answers about anything. I craved to hear how the abuse had affected his life. I wanted my Father to tell me how he percieved what happened to me but he simply refuses to talk about it. My own flesh and blood often dissapoints me.
Each time I attempt this, I only end up getting myself upset and frustrated.
Therefore, I have eventually learnt to just enjoy my time with my brothers and sisters. The rest I just take for what it is, time spent 'around' my family.
In regards to me speaking out about what happened, (apart from this anonomous blog) I guess they win for now, just like The Stepmother wanted all along.
The stepmother refuses to admit it's not a desperate appeal for attention, but I assure you that I just want validation.

I didn't get hooked on heroin because of the abuse and my childhood.
I don't know if things could've been different if I had a better upbringing?
I just deal with what happened and try and enjoy my life right now.
However, I fail to comprehend how they can they lecture me on how I have ruined my life yet neglect to mention the other contributing factors ?

Then when I'm stronger myself I can also set others free with my story. As the words will spread to all the "outsiders" my message of hope and strength will hopefully shine out the frowns on your faces...and herald a new start to my life.

I do actually know that I won't ever get my Father's pity and No, I don't want to hear his excuses - I just want my happiness. It's not up for for my parent's approval. It's mine.
My life was never ruined by my parents or the Stepfamily. You know that saying - "What doesn't kill you only makes you stronger ?"
Well, it's actually very true. I have bad days - we all do.
But then again I have had really good days too - days like this one - when I realise how far I have come.
I have days when I am forced to accept that I don't really have any family. Yes, I get a little sad when I start to feel that I have lost everyone in my life that I have truly loved.Then I look into my mirror and all the love I need to go on - is resting in my very own eyes.
It'd be so easy to lay down and die - but not me - not today. Besides, I've never been the suicidal type - I manage to clutch onto a hope that things will turn around. Some call this place "Fairyland". I just call it Hope.
But all of the hurt and all of the pain only gives me more reason to live - I live for me. I live for the hope that I can help others by just 'being me'. I love me. I hope one day, that others will too. But for now - it's not everything .

Dad specified very clearly to The Stepmother that I was not to be around Adrian alone. He also reminded his youngish wife that she should start to work on her maternal instincts ( be a better mother to me) I heard her explain that she couldn't look at me as I reminded her of his ex wife and she was jealous. I touched my face subconciously in the darkness. So that's what it was ! It was my face ! I started to wish I could change it, maybe she could learn to love me if I didn't have this face, this body, my smile ? I smiled less around her from then on.

Hours passed and eventually she promised to be a better mother to me, adding that she would attempt to form some lasting bonds with her step-daughter. I fear she only said this so Father would let her son stay with us. Unfortunately she made good on that promise, as if loving me was the hardest thing in the world.

It was then settled between my parents and we had no say in the matter.
The family would benefit most from putting this behind us - immediately. No one needed to know, including my own parents, younger sister and brother or both sides of grandparents. These 'outsiders' probably still wonder about me; the wild druggie and the quintessential black sheep. Dad spoke to me sternly about all the new way we would act as a family. He sat me down and basically told me that it would be better if we all forget this ever happened. The whole way through he never met my eyes, which now brimmed with tears of shame.
Before I left for school that morning he gave me a long and final embrace.
The cuddle felt different to other times Daddy had hugged me - it felt almost forced.
It was as if this embrace was meant to crush the memories inside of me...
Maybe daddy knew best ? This is what will heal you. This is Daddy now and everything else will magically fade away. Just forget about it.
He said it over and over and fucking over.
A door shut inside my heart that day and he is yet to find the key.
I'm sorry you said that Daddy - I want to forgive you..I do.

I was guilted into compliance, anytime I tried to speak out about it, I was sent to my room or grounded for months at a time. Dad spent more time drowning his sorrows whilst I was continually ignored and treated coldly at home. I had sealed my fate by telling people I trusted about Adrain, I became the outsider and I was not included in many family things from then on. It became all about the younger children ; like I was a lost cause.
The morning after, The Stepmother asked me if I was strong enough to go to school. I smiled weakly and inched myself towards the door. I just wanted to run from her - I wasn't ready to trust her or anyone else.
She grabbed me by the arm and shook it as she whispered in my ear.
"I don't want you going if your going to start crying again - they will take you away and you will never see us again you know" she smiled with evil as the colour drained from my face. As usual she continued on with her threats until she has my total submission.
"They will take away Adrian too - put him in a jail for kids - is that what you want?" She leaned in so close that I could smell her morning talc. I swear my heart skipped a beat or two but I didn't know the correct answer to her question.
I would soon learn that the tone of her voice was rhetoric and menacing, so I didn't need to voice an opinion. Especially not mine.
"No!" I stammered and I clung into her token embrace. "Don't send me away!" I pleaded with her as I buried my face into her t-shirt.
The last thing I wanted was to have no family at all ! Daddy was all I had.
He wasn't much but he was all I had.
How would I survive as a little girl ?
I didn't even get pocket money - would I be like Annie - would I be able to keep my friends from school?

It's completely natural as a child, to feel a strong need to belong to a family unit. I wanted desperately to bond with The Stepmother, maybe to stem the aching flow of pain created the day Mother drove off into the sunset. I actually thought I was lucky to have a second chance with another mother - maybe I could prove to myself that it wasn't me to blame for Mummy leaving - maybe someone else would try and love me in her place ?
But I was wrong. Sadly it was just not my time...

But I digress as this memoir began with myself seated at my school desk, lost in these thoughts. Suddenly, the teacher's ruler slapped down across the desk. The sharp crack of the ruler snapped my thoughts into focus, I remember how the noise made me jump in my seat. I remember the horrible feeling of the floodgate bursting, to my horror it was in the middle of class. My pent-up anxiety overflowed as tears suddenly sprang from my surprised eyes. My tiny mouth agape with shock, the room lost in a spin, as tears streamed down my face .The kids in class started to point and laugh at my odd behavior. It all happened in a collision of consciousness, I could see their chubby fingers poking in my direction, I saw their faces but I could not hear the actual laughter all I could hear was my own booming heartbeat. It was only moments but it crawled like hours, before I felt my tiny shoulders guided by two warm hands to outside the classroom into the fresh air and bubblers. They were talking but I couldn't hear and then I could see again and then I started to breathe into the paper bag and then after five minutes I could speak again. Her name was Mrs Bell. My grade four teacher and not one of my favorite teachers but she seemed motherly and I knew she was a sensible woman. I started talking and then she started to ask questions.
"Why are you so upset today?"
"I am having troubles at home that's all Miss"
"Troubles?" she held my hand gently and gave it a reassuring squeeze " Is there anything I could help you with, so you can feel a little bit better ?" You know the feeling when someone is so kind to you that it only makes you cry more ? This was one of those times, as her compassion tores holes in my defenses. I broke down.
I started to sob - I couldn't tell her the family secret, I didn't want to be sent away!
I shook my head slowly. Even though she was very kind - I didn't trust her.
I had made a promise to Daddy to forget about it. Outsiders couldn't know.
They would split us up as a family - it was up to me.
I felt my insides shudder with sadness, as I tried to finally accept that I would always feel alone with feelings of shame regarding the abuse.
I took a deep breath and I blurted it out. Mrs Bell let me talk and she hugged me so tight and it was wonderful. She only left me for a moment as she made a phonecall and then I was escorted to the Principal's office. When I got to the office the Principal listened gravely to my stories and let me eat freely from the jellybean jar as I spoke about the sex through the rainbows in my mouth. A small crowd of administration had gathered and I started to fear what was going to happen. I started to feel sick so I put down the jar of jellybeans.

"You can never tell her that I told you - or I will be sent away!" I pleaded with him as he spoke to the police on the telephone. I became very distressed when he didn't seem to listen. I knew they were gonna tell Father and then I had broken the promise I had made that day. I was left alone in the sickroom whilst I sat on the edge of the bed and panicked about going to jail.

I believe that the principal actually went around with an officer to my mothers house. She has never forgiven me.
They sat her down and explained that I would need to see a doctor and that this would need to be recorded by the police. They explained that I didn't want to come home as I was terrified that Adrian was going to kill me. She was the picture of concern but listened with silent fuming, I could just imagine that she would be thinking the whole time about her standing in the community and how this would affect her. After exchanged pleasantries and business cards, The stepmother showed the gentleman to the door. Then, dressed in her finest clothes and makeup, she collected me from school to escort me to the sexual abuse clinic.
The drive was silent, the air laced with mutual disappointment in each other.
She wouldn't look at me and she definitely wouldn't speak to me about what went down at school that day. My stomach knotted with fear - just give it me ! I want your venom now, I want it to at least begin now. Instead, she managed to save it for later, I believe she did this only to make me stop from telling 'outsiders'.
This included my father. I paid for it all my life instead, when every time we yell, it's there. Every time she throws another punch, I feel it. Everything she hangs up the phone or never hangs up any photos of me.

I enter the Doctor's small room and I am told by the female doctor to remove my clothes. She has a kind face and she reminds me of the Beverly off one of the soaps that The Stepmother watches. The room is crowded with metal objects and bright lights, the smell of disinfectant fresh in the air.
I start to cry when my knees wobble with fear. The stepmother sighs and leaves the room, "Oh excuse me while I be sick" That's what she said.
I look into the Dr's eyes with my big blue ones and we share a rare moment of empathy. She eases me gently into a paper robe and helps my tiny body onto the metal examination table.
My small hands form a secret prayer by my side as I pray that I'm not broken or damaged. She tells me that I need to slide my knees up and she nestles between them shining a light down there. I am so embarrassed and I start to yelp ; my vagina is very red and irritated. She breaks for a moment and comes up to smooth back my hair clinging to my damp forehead. I remain still and focused on the ceiling, pretending not to notice that tears slide endlessly down my face.
"Such a brave little girl - I am so proud of you sweetheart" She smiles and my pain eases from her antidote of compassion. I just want to get off the metal bench, it's very shameful having someone looking down there and taking photos when you have only just turned eight. Plus the stepmother was outside and I knew that she would be so mad about 'all this fuss'.
She warned me gently as she slid a cool metal spectrum inside me and I screamed softer than usual. I still remember the shock of feeling something other than his penis stretching my vagina - I still recall the clinical feel of the metal, probing for the clues of a devastating abuse. They found plenty. My vagina was torn in several outer and inner linings and I had also developed an infection from stress and not bathing correctly to rid my body of his semen.
She lifted the warm lamp up from between my legs, removed her gloves and smiled. "You should be very proud of yourself - your such a strong little girl"
She looked away so I could not see her face struggle with the sadness.
She exhaled deeply.
"You can get dressed now darling"
She turned her back to give me some decency but as I struggled with my uniform zipper, she came around and zipped me up slowly.
I turned into her and clung to this stranger, Dr Beverly initially was surprised but in the privacy of the examination room, she hugged me back with all she had but it was more than anyone up until then had given me. Adrian was away being interviewed by the Police and they apparently hit him in the genital area with phone-books and called him a dirty son of a bitch. He cried endlessly and after the policeman broke him ( as he says) our disillusioned family attempted to return home for the usual family dinner.

But the damage was done.


1 comment:

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