YOU ARE ENOUGH
Every morning, I sit in the kitchen with my coffee, the dog, and my cell phone. It’s the quiet part of my morning when I get to take time to scroll through social media and catch up on emails before the chaos of the day ensues.
Yesterday morning, I commented on a Facebook post by Andrew Vachss, pointing out the lack of education he seemed to have in regards to firearms and dogs for protection. Long story short, after learning a little bit about him I retracted my comment.
Mr. Vachss has done some amazing work when it comes to protecting women and children. One of his supporters replied to my original comment, “You must not know about Andrew Vachss.”
He was right, and I hadn’t done any research before running my mouth on a social media post at 5 a.m..
“ There will never be another like him. If you really want to know him start here and that is him exactly how he was. His books will tell you more. The articles he wrote for parade magazine will tell you everything you need to know about protecting our children.”
This person also shared a link that led to a video of Vachss’ dialog with Oprah from years ago. Let’s just say, I was impressed and surprised that his opinions aligned so closely with mine when it came to sexual/child sexual predators, forgiveness, and anger.
I won’t explain what he said, I’ll just let you watch the video and come back to this.
Growing up, there was never a “first time” that my grandfather had abused me. It was just an “always had been.” I remember being angry when he’d say, “Gimme a smooch.” I would just stare at him with apprehension, thinking about how badly I wanted to yell the word NO at him. To run away. To kick or punch or bite.
I didn’t. I’d just stare as he continued, “I haven’t hurt you have I? I would never hurt you. I love you. You love me don’t you?”
Realistically, as a 5 year old, what was I supposed to do? Run? Where? Fight? How? Scream? Who would hear me and what would they say?
The rest of his speech, intending to manipulatively guilt me into giving in, just trailed off into I don’t know where as he pulled me to him and my mind went blank.
As I got older, I realized that no one was saying anything to support the negative feelings I had toward my grandfather or his actions. I thought, surely they saw him kiss me like the movie stars kissed on TV.
My Aunt even asked me once, “Does it bother you that he kisses you like that?”
I’m not even sure how I answered her. I remember thinking it was a trick question. If I answered honestly, would I be in trouble?
I thought maybe she’d felt the emotions vibrating through me. Maybe she could see how stiff my body went as he pulled me to him and wanted to make a point about my lack of willingness to give in to him. Surely, if it was actually wrong, she’d have stopped him. Right?
My grandfather constantly gave us girls, my cousins & I, anything we wanted. We didn’t even have to ask. Things would just appear for us. Mopeds. Trips to the beach. Jet skis. A pool. Sleepovers with all the snacks a girl could want.
Several times, I’d walk into his kitchen and see a neighborhood girl my age sitting at the kitchen counter eating a donut or other sweet treat. One time in particular, after locking eyes with the girl and seeing the same emotions I was feeling swirling in her hazel eyes, I knew. He wasn’t just abusing girls in the family.
As much as my grandfather seemed to adore us girls, he absolutely hated my brother, along with all the male children in the family. “Girls rule and boys drool” was an understatement compared to how my grandfather treated them.
On the other side of it, my grandmother hated us girls with a passion. I assume, for the “skimpy bathing suits and shorts” our parents dressed us in. At least that’s what she told my mom when she was young. Apparently, the tube tops & daisy dukes of the 70’s created child predators in my grandmother’s eyes. All this means is my mother knew, too.
Not a single adult said anything about how young boys were treated. They simply fed into it. They all treated the boys as if they were a disease and completely ignored my grandmother who was dying of cancer in her favorite recliner as she glared at us girls in disgust.
This always served as a reminder to tame my anger when my grandfather demanded things from me that I didn’t want to give. For all I knew, they’d all turn on me.
All of the anger, hate, confusion, and disgust welled inside of me by my early teens . My whole being screamed that it was all wrong. That THEY were wrong. Yet, no one seemed to bat an eye. It became my greatest source of confusion.
The abuse wasn’t the only thing that came to an abrupt halt as I neared 13. All the attention, things he would give me, promises of trips here and there, visits to his house for the summer and long days at the beach with all of my cousins. Gone. It was like it all ceased to exist or never did to begin with. It was as if I ceased to exist, and my family right along with it. All that I had left was my mother, who treated me like my grandmother treated all of us girls.
I spent a few years being wild, getting into trouble with boys who lived in our complex. Not that I was ever in trouble with my mom. At least not for anything more than things she chose to pay attention to. Like the one sock I’d dropped on the way to the dirty laundry hamper. That in itself earned me a tongue lashing, which could turn physical, depending on her mood. She was my Mommy Dearest, just without the fame or fortune.
Mom worked part-time, collected alimony & child support, and slept full-time. I cared for my brother. I made the meals, cleaned up the messes, got him ready for school and on the bus. I got him off the bus and took him outside to play. He was my responsibility and, if it meant I could protect him, I gladly assumed the role.
In my mid to late teens, I started dating men (Yes, men. OLDER men) who were more than delighted to have found someone who didn’t know where to draw a boundary and nothing was off-limits.
After several violent relationships, I landed myself in one that I swore would kill me. Despite being held hostage, the beatings, the humiliating acts he demanded I perform, and the terror he’d instilled in me through threats of death that I was sure he’d follow through on … I found an opening and turned him over to the police.
Society would have you believe, in order to heal, you must forgive those who hurt you. That you must abandon all anger and hate for the person and the acts committed against you.
WRONG. What I had felt throughout my childhood was normal. The feelings I had for those who beat me were normal. The emotions I had towards the person who used my children to hold me hostage so he could feel powerful…. NORMAL. The disgust, anger, fear, and hate for those who took from me knowing it was wrong… Knowing I didn’t want it…. all normal emotions.
With forgiveness we are taught we shouldn’t harbor negative emotions for those who so willingly abused, molested, and raped us. We are just supposed to let it all go. Move on like it never happened. Understand that people aren’t perfect and allow them the mistakes they have made because, “They are human, too,” and, “We don’t know what they’ve been through.”
F*%& THAT. Those people are wrong. 100% wrong. They are doing nothing more than UPHOLDING the camouflage that monsters hide behind. They are perpetuating and normalizing the absolute wrongness of it all and expecting the victim to put the abuser first. Meanwhile, victims are just supposed to, What?? Suck it up & POOF! Be done with it. Get over it. Move on. Be happy.
It wasn’t until I allowed myself to accept and feel the negative emotions for those who abused me that I began to heal. I’d always hated what they had done to me, but I had created this disconnect between the monster and the person. It was as if they were entirely 2 different people. They weren’t.
The ability to accept all the feelings that I had towards those who abused me (and those who allowed it to happen) was what saved me. To accept that all my feelings and reactions were normal and not something to be ashamed of was internally freeing. It helped me to stop blaming myself and enforced the fact that I did not create the monsters.
I no longer wanted to live in a constant state of internalized anger and self-hate. So, I didn’t. Instead, I rejected the responsibility for others and the things I didn’t have any control over. I threw away everything society expected of me. I let all the built up negativity that I had directed onto myself out and put it right back where it belonged…. On the ones who CHOSE to violate me. I completely stopped trying to “figure it all out.”
Why did my mom hand me over to him? Why did my aunt stay quiet? Why did my grandfather do the things he did? And… Where the hell were all the men in the family?? My Father. MY cousin’s fathers?
Absolutely none of my business and not my job to figure out. I’ll be damned if I remain a hostage any longer after fighting so hard to escape those chains for real. That is their burden to bear, not mine.
However, healing is a 2 part process and I was still a hostage of one emotion… My own fear. Fear of my ex finding me. Fear of the predators who do live among us in society. Fear of my inability to back up my NO and to enforce the boundaries I wanted to set for my personal safety. It would be negligent for me to remain defenseless in a world where these types of predators exist and that is one responsibility I needed to own.
But, again, societal norms dictate you stay unprepared, unarmed, and incapable of being your own first line of defense. Those who demand I remain vulnerable can go F#%^ themselves, too. Not one of them came to save me and I’m sure as hell not going to leave my safety or the safety of my children up to others any longer.
After acquiring some skills that can absolutely back up my NO- I no longer live in fear of what could happen. Rather, I think, “If something should happen, I got this.”
Self-Defense training taught me 3 things.
I am capable of preventing and stopping a violent attack through boundaries that I set and my ability to uphold them
Self-defense training is really offensive training
To trust MYSELF to determine what I do and do not want in my life
You ARE worthy of healing and defending. You do not owe society conformity. You owe yourself to set boundaries and the ability to enforce them. You and your children not only deserve to survive but to thrive. Break the cycle by showing yourself and your children how strong and capable you are…. Of EVERYTHING.
