Life, She teaches you. I say She because I Am speaking of me…
In life, we will experience so so very much and so very very much of it will hurt.
But the pain is the beauty of it all. And all of those ashes are needed is what I have learned.
At a very early age, before I ever even started school, I learned about pain. A pain that taught me to fight. Fight for my life…my sanity…fight for my peace.
There were several years of my life that I lost myself because I had begun to dislike “The Fight” because I felt as though I would lose too much or rather too many.
There are seasons though, that we can’t escape the fight and it is ever present.
What is important I am realizing is that we must be sure that what we are fighting for is worth it.
So, now that I am sure. I’ll say this…
When two opponents step in a ring, there is an expectancy of a end and the prize is victory over all of these wicked plans.
In my thirties I had a conversation with a woman via telephone. This was my first conversation with her ever and the only conversation as to this day.
She shared with me how glad she was to finally be able to have a conversation with me after all these years of never knowing or meeting me being that she was my aunt. We talked some small talk and then she shared with me why she didn’t have a relationship with my biological father (her brother). She shared with me how she had once left him at her home to watch her daughter only to return to him trying to rape her daughter (his niece) and how she had chased him out the house with a knife.
My response was good for you and thank you for sharing your story with me.
It was then that I found my voice. My aunts words were an echo of my own. I began to share my own story of how my biological father had molested me as a child.
I felt as if God had allowed this divine moment to happen so that I would never again question myself and my own experience. I understood then that my biological father was simply a sick individual.
What other rationale is there for a father to be on top of his own child…a child so young that she isn’t even enrolled in school yet…a child so young that perhaps he thought I would not remember. His own. His only child. His prey!
I once confronted him with this information and he began to express to me what he had gone through as a child, never any mention of any sexual perversion and then I stopped him in the conversation and let him know that at this point in my life I couldn’t be concerned with hearing his story while in the middle of processing my own.
He then offered a somewhat piss poor apology for anything that he had ever done to hurt me.
A few years later, I received a phone call from him in reference to the original letter I had written him about the molestation that lead to our conversation…he now knows nothing about the molestation. This was the first time he had read the letter…it must have got mixed up in old junk mail is what he said. The dates/age that I had estimated in my head didn’t add up to him because he had been in prison at the time…So it couldn’t have happened. Geesh!!!!! So what were you apologizing for previously.
I expressed to him that if I wasn’t 4 or 5 then maybe I was 3 or 4 and in all honesty if I was 100 yrs old let’s please not make me out to be the liar here. Because regardless of the date it had happened, right in my great mother’s house on Caldwell Drive in Panama City FL.
I share this with you all because…
It’s important that these stories are shared. The predators in our family don’t deserve more than those that have been preyed upon.
Family secrets of this nature happen more often than most would admit.
I have spoken with many women & men in the last 20 years that have experienced some form of sexual assault. Unfortunately, it’s common in families. Often swept under the rug while many suffer in silence.
The suffering is intense my friends. It can become tragic.
I’ve given up trying to have any form of relationship with him. I have come to the realization that it does not benefit my life in the least. I have no desire to and there is such a freedom in it that it brings healing to my soul.
And whatever is good for my soul is all that I plan on doing at this stage of life.
Oftentimes others wonder why there is estrangement in families…this is why.
So before you judge why family members are not close or why they don’t come around…consider this.
I’ve got more stories to tell than NBC could handle about these matters within my own family.
So before you jump to conclusions or believe alot of noise from perpetrators, please take the time to get to know why families are not close. Why family members don’t show up to gatherings, Why siblings are not welcome at siblings home.
I’ve chosen to live my life wide open so that the hurt can heal.
I’m also praying that the echo that was my aunts voice becomes my own and I am as brave and courageous as her Wynn my time comes.
The Truth Hurts but so does Healing…Remember that and don’t forget to drink your water.
Blessings Abounding, Vetta