Why? There is therapist-client confidentiality.
Shame. The shame does not go away, but I know better how to deal with it. I feel it right this minute, even though you don't know me from Adam. I still have that fear about people knowing. How they would react. I am supposed to be tough and an achiever, man, I am supposed to be a
fucking winner. This shit does not fit my narrative about me.
But that doesn't make it any less true.
Yes, this shit happened nearly forty years ago. And it's not like it was even the major form of abuse I was subjected to. But it happened, and it leaves a particular sort of mark behind it.
I don't know how the US handles its abused kids, and I don't expect to. I can tell you in the 1980s in Lanarkshire there were no mandatory reporters and there were damn few social workers either. And once the four year old had been prodded to say she "didn't remember exactly" what had had happened, they were not following up the hospital's referral any further. Traumatised very wee lassies don't make very good witnesses, and even worse once they've had an "accident" to straighten them out.
And mothers are not supposed to do that kind of thing. My granny only took me to the hospital because she thought my dad must be responsible for the injuries. He never did a fucking thing, although he knew. Hard not to notice cigarette burns.
I don't need or expect people to "believe me". It makes no difference to anyone, or anything. What's done is done. If I wanted internet points, I would not be here in this thread on this forum, of all places, looking for them. I know what happened. I live with it as best I can.
The question was asked, I've offered the answer, for whatever help or illumination it's worth.
@JamusActimus Thanks, pal. I appreciate the positive thoughts. It is difficult, honestly. The trouble with my nieces only came to light in recent months, and it's dug up a lot of stuff that wasn't dealt with yet, I mean in terms of me mentally or emotionally or whatever. I had to tell my husband things I had never wanted him to know. I could not bear the thought that any of the ways I had been hurt would be in his head when he touched me. He knew enough, obviously, there are unfortunately scars that couldn't be fixed, and he knew long before we ever had children that my parents could never be trusted around them.
But there were details I didn't want him to know. He tells me he doesn't think about it when we are together. I try to believe him. The whole point of her fucking cruelty was to burn it into me that I was 'disgusting' and 'no one would ever love me' and my body was 'hideous'. To make me be ashamed of myself and terrified if anyone ever demonstrated attraction to me. I can't let myself fall into believing that. I have a very happy marriage. She doesn't get to take any of that, including the physical aspect, away from me. It takes a level of trust I didn't expect to master to allow, let alone seek out, that kind of intimacy, and to feel secure enough to express desire. It provides me with a comfort and joy I can't get any other way, and that I probably do value too much because of my history. It is very important to me that that not change.
The behaviour of my siblings was a terrible shock to me, especially after it all came to light. I wouldn't have gone to the police about it for myself, now, but I told my brother I'd go in support of the girls.
But the pattern has repeated itself: the girls have been told to tell no one, it's a "family secret", the rest of the bullshit.
My father turned up at my door the other week saying he's in the financial shit again, looking to be bailed out again, oh and he'll turn her in to the cops about me if only I'll give him fifty grand.
Now, being raised by a cunt like that? It gives you some view of the world.
I'm done with all of them. Decades later than I should have been, but better late than never.
ANYWAY this has all been completely useless and I should have said nothing. Sorry. Cheerio
