It's a fact once you remember something there is no unremembering. There is no chance to ever go back to a time when you didn't have all the pieces. I am finding that I am going to have come up with a new normal for myself and I can say that I am wholly terrified. I feel so guilty that I even said anything about it. A new memory, of my father and the absolute monster he was. Because in the grand scheme of things, it was just another assault. I was just younger and in a different place. That shame piece is huge, because no one should have to know what he did. I was so comfortable where I was, moving forward, making progress. I felt like i was taking steps in the right direction. I have processed and worked on the abuse for such a long time then that one memory came in and was the tornado in my world that I worked so hard to calm down. I mean I knew the things I remembered; I had this timeline in my head that helped me make sense out of the things that happened to me. There was never a time that I didn't remember. I knew some things didn't make sense in my head. I just couldn't fit some pieces together, no matter how hard that I tried. I Wanted order and understanding more than my own breath sometimes. That need for understanding came from being called a liar, I felt like if there was order then I could prove all the things that happened to me and somehow that would make me credible, and people would be kind and treat me like I deserved help and understanding. Somehow having a timeline, made everything have a place and made me believable. If I could just explain all the parts and pieces, it would be ok. I just wanted to prove to people just how hurt that I have been. I wanted others to see and have an understanding of the suffering. I wanted others to know why I did the things that I did.
I know that part of it is my own fault. I was frustrated at the pieces of the puzzle that I didn't have. For as long as I can remember, I wanted everything to fit into a pretty perfect category. One where I would fit into everyone's box about how a victim should act. I wanted to be and feel all the things that they made me believe I should say and feel for them to believe that I was telling the truth. I wanted to remember how they told me I should feel and act; how I should be doing things. In it all I wanted nothing more than to be believed , held and made to feel like what happened to me mattered. For that to happen I believed that I had to remember everything perfect. Every date every detail every response; literally every everything had to make sense for others and have a place and a reason. Aside from that being impossible, that was a goal, that was always my goal. For everyone else to understand my world, but in reality they couldn't even fathom it.
But today I am still in the middle of this raging severe tornadic thunderstorm trying to find a place for this new memory so that I matter and the things that happened to me mattered. After all this time I still need so much reassurance that I am not the awfulness of the things that happened. I am in this frazzled state trying to fit the unthinkable into my perfect system that I have created in my head. It's wreaking havoc in every fiber of my being. I am so afraid of more memories, so angry at the new one and so sad that it was even a memory that I remembered at all.
I am going to have to come up with a new normal, a new way of thinking. With all that I am I hope there will never be any more memories, but I cannot guarantee that. That is going to be more than hard for my heart. For me I have to have a plan, I have to create something normal in the life I was given that was everything but normal.
This memory in some ways feels worse, because it was before we even moved to Texas; so, I was probably around 4. There are so many disturbing pieces. And they all fell into place like nothing I have ever known. I had so many of the pieces and just couldn't connect them. I was so young, I remember things from 5 when we moved here to Texas, but before that, I was so little. What kind of monster. As if there is a huge difference between 4 and 5. Being that young somehow bothered me so much. For as long as I can remember there have been times when taking a bath that things go black. Sometimes it's a quick all of the sudden blackness while other times it's a slow fading because I know what's coming. I knew what was going to happen to me and needed an escape. I used to think it was just me, just another weird thing about me, that my world would fade to black, that just was. Another piece that was horrific to me is that he didn't even have me facing him. I didn't even mean enough for him to look at me. I was just a used good for him, making him happy. Of coarse I would go away , while he was hurting me I just stared at the faucet. So as an adult taking a bath facing the faubcet, my mind went there going dark keeping me safe and never remembering. All I had was the black. Hearing the water and thinking, why was it ok that I was in the bathtub with him, how could she not have heard anything. I can still remember his moans, gand it makes me sick. Such a bastard, an evil sick monster. I cannot get my head around, being so hurt, and everyone ignoring. I was so cold, my body in shock, and no one to help. Part of me is looking for something to tell me maybe it didn't happen like that, maybe this and maybe that, maybe it wasn't that bad. I know that it happened and I just have to turn off all those voices of those who said that I was lying, that it wasn't that bad if I didn't tell or run away crying. This was my normal.
I know it happened with all that I am and I am crushed. I am going to give myself some time. I will find a place for it. I will think of little Callahan and hold my heart. I am grateful I had her to keep me sane. I am grateful for the work that I have done, that this memory doesn't phase her in the least. That is progress. So I will work on this I will find my new normal. When all is said and done this new memory doesn't change a thing. It doesn't change the person I am today, It doesn't mean that I am destined to go backwards. It is just that a hurtful, awful, unimaginable memory, something that happened to me, by a man that knew better. By a man that was supposed to love me and keep me safe. There are no memories that are going to make him any more of a monster. Mark always says we can fill in the gaps with what we do know today and that has to be enough for me. There is nothing else I have to remember to prove All of the awful. What I know is enough, how I reacted and what I did was me and what I knew to survive. I will never fit into boxes. Unimaginable things don't fit into a box, its about how I can find my place, and my new normal.
I heart your heart.
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