Why Did She Never Care?Growing up in a family of 5 siblings was tough. It had its ups and downs. My father was a construction worker, an alcoholic and a Vietnam Veteran. My mother was an on and off, stay at home mom and waitress, working to become a licensed CNA.
I will never forget the night that my life took an unexpected turn. I was being sexually molested by my oldest brother at just 11 years old. I remember not knowing if this was okay. I remember not being able to tell anyone, for I thought I would be in trouble. I kept my secret to myself.
My grades started to drastically drop. I didnt care about school or being social. I didn't care about the "rules" anymore. I was spiraling down into a deep depression at only 11. The one person who I thought I could trust was taking advantage of me. I didn't know what was right and wrong anymore. I was confused and manipulated by my own brother. The abuse went on until I was 15. I was still hurt and confused, like my mind was stuck at the age of 11. I was brainwashed. I still, was careless about school and friends and even family. I was rebelling out because I was keeping a deep, dark, secret that could ruin peoples life forever and how could I tell someone?
One day, when I was just about to hit my 16th birthday, I had gotten so angry and my emotions started to build up more and more. The hurt was building up inside, urning to be able to talk...talk to someone...anyone. I needed someone to listen to me for once. I came out and said it, in a moment of rage. I was sobbing and scared, that I had just made the biggest mistake of my life.
I remember my mother asking me what I meant. She had thought it was my dad. I told her no, no it was not. I couldn't say his name. I was scared. Petrified actually. How do I tell my mom that is was my brother? I had too. I had to let her know what had happened and that I needed help. She cried. She blamed me. She blamed me for it all. It was my fault, all of it. Then all of a sudden it changed. She said I had lied. She told me I "had always wanted to be an only child" So I had just made it up for attention.
My brother was confronted months after...He confessed never "thinking I would ever tell". That was it. Nothing was done. I was hurt. I was angry that my own mother did not consider what I had might been going through. She never asked me to talk about it. She didn't ask me if needed help, If I was okay, or if i just needed to be hugged. She went on, as if nothing had ever been said.
I am now 22 years old. I have been to therapy but discontinued my sessions because I am still so embarrassed. I am sad. I am lonely. I need to speak to someone. I need someone to hear my cries, someone who will treat me like a human being, not a patient or a liar. My mother treats me like I am some kind of outcast. She doesn't understand that I am mentally broken and mentally scarred.
I am mad at her. I am so angry that she didn't believe me. Angry that she didn't ask me to talk. I am angry that, to this day, she acts as if nothing ever happened. Angry that she told everyone that I had made up such a sick story. I resent her, I resent her for not knowing something was wrong. I resent her for not being there for me after the fact. I resent her for not being the mother that I had and still do, need.
I'm not sure if I will ever be normal. I am not sure about a lot anymore.
One thing I do know...It feels pretty darn good to be typing this.
LE50 22-25, F 3 Responses 3 Jan 4, 2011