The secret

I was 20  when I revealed the secret the first time to a psychologist of a college. I liked her immediately but it took me several weeks before taking the decision to talk about it. I told her that my father touched me repeatedly and did more than touching me during my adolescence. I thought that would be our last meeting, I was sure she would despise me. We continued to meet but I never wanted to talk about the secret again. I told her that he had stopped touching me since four years and that it wasn't a problem for me, the real problem was my mother drinking almost every day. She tried to talk about it once again but I told her that it belonged to the past.

I was 21 when my first male friend almost guessed about the secret. He asked me why I was always so angry at my mother. I answered she was always drinking. He said everybody knew she was alcoholic and that it wasn't a good reason to be angry at a mother like I was. I told him that being beaten by a mother was a good reason to be angry at her.
Then he asked me if I was sexually abused by my mother. He said he was sure because  I was acting like someone who was sexually abused. I remained speechless for a few seconds before saying that my father was the abuser. I begged him to keep it secret. After asking me if he was still abusing me, he promised me to keep it secret.

Few months later, I had a first boyfriend. He was 14 years older than me.  I loved him as if he was my brother and he loved me as if I was his girlfriend.  By dating him, I had a place to go to sleep when my mother was too drunk, so I accepted to be his girl friend. He saw me taking five drugs at once.  He guessed something was wrong, he asked me the question. For the first time of my life, I told him the details of the secret and that it was the reason for taking extra drugs. After talking for few hours, I begged him to keep the secret. I knew revealing the secret would destroy the marriage of my parents. I even threatened him to break up with him. He promised me he would keep the secret between us... He broke the promised. He told it to my mother.

My mother asked me if it was true. I told her to ask the question to him.  My father denied in the name of Jesus and said I was crazy. He said  I was projecting the evil action of my biological father on him. My mother drank more and more. Each time  she was drunk, she also said my biological father was an alcoolic and that I was projecting his alcooholism on her.  This life lasted four more years.

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The cost of a secret

Like you, I was in my early twenties when I felt like I had to tell more about my personal life.  I was getting tired of the anger and the duplicity of living one life, only to cover and protect another.  It wasn't working, and a life-time of lies was killing me.  My coping skills were falling apart, the flashbacks and sensory memories were terrifying and it all made me more silent and miserable.  I didn't want to be miserable, like "them".

The problem I found was telling the truth cost me relationships, anyway.  First came the Dear-in-Headlights look and reaction from those I dared to let close, and then came the awkward discomfort of not knowing what to say to me because I was so raw and filled with so much hurt, rage and frustrated confusion.  The worst was being told I was crazy, or that I was making stories-up just to get attention.  Those are the times I truly began to think every decision I made and action I would make was wrong.

Looking back, I know what I really wanted from those I told were answers and apologies.  I wanted them to make everything better, so life could be safe again.

No one could do that, so it didn't take long for me to go back into hiding.

 

Pound Pup Legacy