I’ve noticed that in my therapy sessions, even if I go into them with something very specific to talk about, three things will always come up: whatever my current stress is, the mental/emotional/sexual abuse done by my first boyfriend and first husband, and the utter loneliness and trauma of my early child. Every time. For me, somewhere inside, they are all connected….the Trifecta.
I can never speak about my childhood trauma to my family; my siblings likely did not experience what I did, and would not validate my perspective. My mother was lost in her own misery. I don’t want my children to know how damaged and scarred I am; I don’t want them to be afraid I can’t be strong for them and I’m embarrassed and ashamed. In my life, I’ve shared these memories with only a handful of people and rarely in detail. The focus of the memories has shifted over the years. I am hurt and I am angry.
I honestly thought everyone knew about the abuse by those young men mentioned; I thought I was talking about it to everyone all the time and tried not to because I felt it would make me “weird” and I’d stop fitting in. But looking back, I’m not sure I told anyone about the boyfriend, and only my mother about the husband…I’d been separated from everyone else by him. I also didn’t want people to know because I thought it was my fault, and if I’d been more “normal” these things wouldn’t have happened. I made these men this way. Some of the memories I hid from myself completely. They are coming back and no one can validate them. They hurt, they’re humiliating, they feel like someone else’s story. I’m hurt.
I am ready for my life to stop being about the Trifecta and to start to be about me and my needs and making the world a brighter place. I have thought I was ready for a long time but I wasn’t; now I am. I am not in control of the process and I don’t need to be…it can unfold as it will and I will be here. Who I am becoming is not the same as who I was, and what she wants and needs is important.
It’s a bitter and beautiful moment in my life.