A letter...

...to my mother.



*I have recently had several people write to me that the entries I post on my blog are "intensly personal," and they ask me why I do it. I started this blog as a way for me to share my story, and my recovery, as a way to incite hope for recovery in other survivors of sexual trauma, and to raise awareness for others. As I have said, I feel that awareness is the ONLY way to conquer these often silent crimes.*

This was a response of mine to an email my mother sent me. I felt it was relevant to my recovery, not as an indictment, but as a description of the honesty and barefaced emotion that my mother and I share. Which is an integral part to my life these days, as I don't know what I would do without it. I love my mother, tremendously. I have had to be very honest with my family since coming out here and finally feeling safe enough to do so in an appropriate way (read: Not calling them and yelling/crying, hi college).

Mom,

Let me say first that the insistance you feel in this email may feel like anger at you. It is not. It's simply passion for myself and my choices.

First of all, I think you should know that I do allow Wesley to be a fucked up kid. In fact, that's what I refer to him as when people ask me about him. I'm aware he wasn't evil. I don't believe in evil. I believe in sick and healthy. He was sick. I don't darken him anymore than he darkened himself. In a lot of ways I was a sick kid too after the abuse. The thing is, I don't know what helpful effect it would have ON ME to talk to Wesley about how his abuse broke my heart. Except to make me cry and tear me open again, and bring about pain I have done well without for a long time. I don't see how it would "help" me. You say it would allow me to say my piece. You said something to me once, when I was dealing with [a guy I was dating], and I told you "I just have to walk through this mom." You said "Sometimes you don't have to walk through it. Sometimes you can walk away from it and just not put yourself through that." I don't feel, at this point, that telling him how much he hurt me would do anything but, well, hurt me. Again.

I'm not willing to put myself through it again, and in a lot of ways I see closure as a bullshit principle that people use as a way of getting the last word in. I used to be interested in that, in Wesley and I's arguments where he would antagonize me to the point of murder, and not realize that he was adding to the damage he had done years earlier. I'm not anymore. When I think of telling him how I feel, it feels like a "family of the victim" response in a court case. Like when the family of a murder victim gets up and "tells the murderer what he did," and the murderer sits there and tries to look remorseful, and they get all emotional and cry and it tears them up, and the murderer feels NOTHING. It accomplishes nothing for the family and they bullshit themselves by saying "I think he heard us." Yeah, he heard you. Do you feel better? Is your son/daughter/wife/mother/husband vindicated? No. In fact, I'm not even interested in making Wesley feel anything. I'm just sad that I didn't get to have a normal relationship with my brother. There's nothing for it except grief. He can't help me with it, and my telling him about it won't help me either.

I've been aware for a very long time that I am sad, angry, hurt, traumatized, scared, and underneath that there is a massive strength that comes from the fact that I make sure I will NOT be fucked with again like that. I do still feel sad about not having a real brother as a child, but I cannot change that, and there's the resignation/acceptance. All of the emotions apply.

And I know he has a sweet, vulnerable side. I know, like I said, that he's not evil. There are MANY people I have chosen not to have in my life, for far less than what he did, and I allow them to be human too. I just don't allow them to be around me for my personal happiness and safety. I know he's probably grown up to be a responsible adult, just like I have. I know he's probably done a lot of work. I do know what he's become. For one thing, the last time I talked to him was 3 years ago, remember? Not so long after all. I know him. I watched him grow up even though I didn't want to. I am intimately aware of his awkwardness, his intelligence, his humor, and the fun we sometimes had teenagers when I could remember things again.

The fucked up thing is, I also remember him absolutely destroying my sense of safety and boundaries and the fact that his then twist to friendly behavior made it the worst kind of emotional abuse. "When is he going to be an asshole again? When will he hurt me again?" It is what I felt, and what I experienced. You may not have seen it that way. It was.

And, MAYBE the creepy feeling comes from the fact that he sexually abused me, which is pretty creepy all by itself without ANY help from my mental machinations. Occam's razor said the simplest explanation is usually the right one. I'm not being sarcastic, or bitchy, I'm being dead serious. I would like you to acknowledge that there may be more simplicity to this than previously thought of. I am a pretty text book case of CSA [childhood sexual abuse for the readers, my mom knows what it means], according to the (many) therapists I've seen.

I also realize I have to nurture my sweet side more often, and stop playing the tough girl role so much. Sometimes pain about the abuse is so excruciating that feeling it tears me open emotionally, and when I feel it, I do not do well with it quite yet. It would appear the work I have left to do is emotional, as opposed to trauma related. But for the first time in my life, I am able to go through days, even weeks, without really thinking about it. And then there are days when I can think of little else. But that in and of itself is a huge improvement, as there was a time when I couldn't stop thinking about it, it invaded my sleep and my every waking moment.

I want you to know that there is very little I do not know about myself these days. I can be introverted, extroverted, talkative, incredibly withdrawn, impulsive, hilarious and obnoxious, incredibly caring and intuitive, altruistic and selfish. And I still do stupid things sometimes, like most humans. I'm also aware of all of the emotional work I have to do, and when/if I ever feel it necessary to talk to Wesley, I will. I do not feel that I do at this point because I don't see a purpose FOR ME. I understand your point of view, but understand I am a different person (I know you do) and realize that that may not help me the way it helped you. I've said this before, but I really need it to be ok if I never talk to Wesley again. I won't tolerate pushes in that direction at this time (I don't think that's what your doing, but just FYI). That's a boundary I have to set.


I am not angry with you. Please don't take any of this email that way. I have to keep setting boundaries, and maintaining my honesty with you and daddy, and myself. This is part of that.

I love you,

Jenny