Grieving - Feeling the Feelings

Hello my friends, it has been awhile since my last post. Between my work with Dreamcatchers For Abused Children, writing and working on my next book, the sequel to "A Life of Death: The Redemption", I have been working on inner child healing. In this process, I am learning that our feelings are valid. Our feelings are necessary, and they are an important part of the healing process, as we become emotionally honest with ourselves and the world. I am doing some visualizaton work with a friend of mine who is my "guide". We have gone in and saved my 8 year old; me. She was still tied up, bound and gagged on that bed from so long ago after having been raped and sodomized by my 21 year old brother. I had left her there, in the darkness. I closed the door and continued on into my 9th year, 10th year, still in hell from the abuse I was suffering at the hands of my mother mainly, but also from the abuse I was suffering from my dad and watching our family spin out of control after the death of my brother Chesley. It was during that year that I was sexually assaulted and used, that my dad was trying to kill himself, my mother was losing her mind, again, and all of my siblings in the home were in shell shock. Except one, my brother who was a 21 year old man who took it upon himself to see that no one would care or even notice that he was raping me and using me for his sex toy until he moved away to Canada later that year. I was in so much pain from the sexual assaults, and had developed an infection. I was in agony, and took a risk and told my mom. My brother threatened me with sodomy again if I told, but I did not care at that point. I took a risk by telling my mom because my mom was abusing and beating me on a regular basis and I knew by my telling her, it would most likely warrant a beating from her. Her response to me was, "what do you expect me to do about it? This is not my problem, this is your problem. You deal with it!" "Wrap yourself up like a mummy when you go to bed", and that was it. That was all. She did not even bother to check me out to see if my allegations were true, she knew it was true and did nothing to stop it, allowing her 21 year old son to rape and molest her 8 year old daughter. So, the abuse continued, and I split. In order for me to survive and continue on in the world, my mind had to shut off those sexual assaults and the pain I was in, and I shut the door on her, and left her to suffer on her own. Knowing all along, somewhere deep down inside that it was me! Over the years I grieved, and then at age 13 my brother confessed to me on a long distance phone call while he was bleeding to death after slitting his wrists, that he loved touching me sexually,he loved my smooth child body and loved to be in me. I was shocked.I had put all that away, so far away, that I actually thought it was my dad. I wanted to believe it was my dad because my dad was one of my abusers and had been sexually assaulting my mother and brothers for years while I grew up. I did not WANT to believe it was my brother because I loved my brother. Standing there, holding the phone to my ear, listening to my brother say these things to me, I thought back to those horrific torturous nights and days when I was 8 years old. I was in shock because I knew on the other end of the phone my brother was in a bathtub, wrists slit, bleeding to death, and he was the brother I used to try to protect from my dad. He was the brother that was so abused by my dad, and I loved him so much. He, however, did not love me. He used me. Just as fast as he had told me this in our conversation, when I put the phone down as my mother took over the conversation having just ran to the neighbors to use their phone to call the Canadian Police and alert them to get help to my brother as he was committing suicide, I went outside in the front yard, and thought about those earlier years, all of the abuse, all of the pain, and thought about how my mother had allowed this to go on, and had abused me as well. It was after my brother had sexually used me, that the name calling got worse and she would call me a whore, a slut, a cunt, and many other horrible names. I was just a kid. That year I would begin to shut out those words my brother said. He lived. The police and ambulance got to him in time and saved him, again. He would attempt suicide many times and at the age of 33, when I was 20 he finally managed to kill himself, suicide by hanging. The next year, I was 21 and had my first gynecology check up to get on the pill. I wrote on the form that I had never had sexual intercourse and was a virgin. After the examination, the gynecologist told me, "you're no virgin, honey", and I explained that I was. She said that the physical exam showed that I was in fact not a virgin, and had sexual intercourse as a child, as the scar tissue proved sexual abuse. I told her I was a virgin. I did not want to tell her my brother raped me and sexually used me for nearly a year. This was back in 1986 and mandatory reporting had not been instated. I left the office in despair as I had told the new love of my life, my only love, that I was a virgin. In my heart I believed I was a virgin for many reasons. I did not want my brother to use me sexually, I did not ask him to rape me, I fought him every time, which is why he had to bind and gag me. It wasn't a "game", as it was violent, and meant to punish me for not letting him do what he wanted. I never wanted it! I told my boyfriend at the time, who I loved so much, as he could not understand why I was not receptive to his advances and intimacy, that I was hurt as a child, sexually abused. I did not tell him what happened, but I did tell him that someone had hurt me as a child, and I asked him not to hurt me. I took a big risk in letting this man into my life and we broke up after 2 years. He was also sexually abused by his father who was an alcoholic, and he had run away from home at the age of 13 years old to live on his own. He had so many unresolved issues, I had so many unresolved issues, so we called the relationship quits. I did not have any relationships, with any man for another seven years, until I met the man I am with now. He is a good man. He loves me. He would never hurt me. We have had our difficulties as most relationships go, but we resolve them, work them out and we love each other a little bit more each day that goes by. I would say to all of you who are survivors of abuse, do not ever give up. Do not ever stop looking for that help, or that hope! Better days are ahead, but only if we are here, and we are looking for them...keep looking for them!!