Healing from Sexual Abuse – A Transformational Journey – Part 1

I posted yesterday that I am sharing writings from process that began a little over 3 years ago.  It is unedited.  It is a huge risk for me as I move to sharing the process of healing for me.  It is for my healing to step out of the cocoon and I hope it helps someone.  For background, please read yesterday’s sharing of process -introduction.   Please feel free to comment.

Process:  Entry One

The presence of my parents is around me along with many other spirits.  I am in between them and I see them in their human form knowing they are no longer in the human form as they have already made their transition.  I just give them shape and meaning in a way I comprehend them as my parents.  I am overwhelmed by their love and their strength as each supports one side of me as I begin this journey into spirit to join with their spirits seeking to understand each individually.  I struggle with their human form because of the pain the human form represents for me.

Dad:  Look for me in spirit.  Find my spirit and the purity that exists in my spirit and then you will see me and you can understand.

I sought his spirit and found it and I am overwhelmed by his purity and his love and his gentleness and his brightness.  I stand before him and experience transcendence from body to spirit.  I want to just rest there and know that there is a higher purpose to this meeting for both of us.  He is ready to move on and this meeting needs to set us both free.  So I summon all that is within me to finish our journey together so that healing can occur from past through future.

“Dad, I want to know you and understand your entire human journey this lifetime.  I have some questions and want to know if you will answer me and show me you.”

He agreed without hesitation.

I don’t know what to expect.  I am not sure where to go to from here.

I see him as a very small boy.  He shows me his sadness.

Me:  Dad, why are you so sad.

Dad:  I am scared because everyone seems mad and sad.  No one is talking.  My mother doesn’t play with me much anymore.

Me:  Does anyone come and help you and be with you?

Dad:  No.  I am alone.  I just want my mom.

I see his mom sitting underneath a tree on a blanket.  My dad is lying with his head on her stomach and she is stroking his head and there are tears running down her face.  She knew she must leave him as she was dying and she didn’t want to go but she couldn’t stop it.  She wasn’t brave enough to tell him.

Dad:  I knew she was dying but nobody would talk about it.  I felt confused, sad and alone.  Everything was fun.  We would sing together and she read me books.  We laughed all the time.

Me:  When did you last see your mother alive?

Dad:  I went to see her in the hospital.  I was so scared.  She was so white and having trouble breathing like gurgling choking.  I was told to be quiet.  I missed her so much and just wanted to be with her.  My aunt had a grip on my hand tightly and I yanked my hand out to go to my mother.  They tried to stop me.  I climbed on the bed with her and curled up next to her and cried and kept telling her mommy talk to me.  She opened her eyes and saw me and lifted her hand and stroked my hair calling me Jackie boy her pet name for me.  “I love you”, she said.  Be a good boy now and let mommy rest.  My granddad picked me up and pulled her from me.  I kept crying out to her and fought my granddaddy.  I didn’t want to go and they made me and told me to be a good boy.  That was the last time I saw her alive.  My little heart was broken and she was the only one who could make it better.

I feel the depth of his pain and his sorrow.  I can actually see it all.  I see him reaching out for her and his granddad taking him out of the room.  He needed to just lie next to her for comfort and they yanked him away.

Me:    How did you feel when they took you away?

Dad:  Scared and sad and mad.  No one would listen to me.   I went home that night and cried myself to sleep.  I was alone in my dark room.  I dozed off a bit and then heard the front door open and shut.  I heard voices and then heard crying.  I sneaked out of bed to see.  My grandmother was there crying and my dad was crying.  “She’s gone” I heard my dad say.  “Gone where?” I asked as I stepped into the room.  My granddad snapped at me that I wasn’t supposed to be up and to go back to bed.  I argued and he was very firm.   I pretended to back to bed.  I hid behind the door and listened to them talking.  It became clear that my mother had died.  I quietly slid back into my room pulling the covers over my head and cried.  The next day there was a lot of busy stuff.  My mother’s family came over and food was brought over.  I felt so sad and didn’t want to be with anyone.  I went outside and sat under the tree that she and I would sit under trying to bring her back wanting her there, but she didn’t come.

I am so much understanding his pain.  How hard it is for a young child to lose his mother the absolute source of his unconditional love.  I’m crying now wanting to somehow make it better knowing I really can’t change it for him.  Such a new feeling for me with my dad.  Seeing his vulnerability and feeling his loss.

Me:  Did you go to her funeral?

Dad:  Yes, I held my dad’s hand as we walked by her casket.  I didn’t really see her.  She wasn’t there.  I wasn’t ready to say goodbye.  No one to talk with me about it.  She is gone.

Me:   She was so much your joy, wasn’t she?  When she died, did your joy die too?

Dad:  I remember her love for me.  I remember her laughter and her singing.  She was always happy to see me.  We played and had lots of fun.  She had such a beautiful voice.  No one would ever love me that way again.  So, yes a part of me died with her.

Me:  Sometimes when parents get divorced or dies, kids think it was their fault.  Is that what you thought?

Dad:  Mmmm.  Yes.  I thought I was bad and made her go away.   I was very angry with myself.  I always felt I had to be good or someone would die.

His words are my words.  Did I inherit that from him?  I so can remember him blaming me when mother stomped out of the house when I was five.  “It is all your fault your mom went away”, he said.  “She is never coming back and it is your fault!”  I remember how scared I was.  I always looked at it as a way for him to control me and it was.  Yet at a deeper level, I wonder if those words were said to him.  I bring myself back to our conversation.

Me:  What was your dad like?

Dad:  Wasn’t present.  Gone.  Once mom died, he wasn’t the same.  He had to work a lot and I went to live with my grandparents.

Me:  I am sitting here listening to you experiencing your innocence and hurt and disappointment.  I see how things fit together for you now and how it translated into our relationship.

Dad:  I lost my father too.  He couldn’t take care of me and work.  He sent me to live with my grandparents.  They loved me, but I missed our life as a family.  Everything changed.  My world and everything I knew was gone.  Everyone tried to make me happy.  Nobody talked about mother.  I wanted to so much but it made everyone so sad.  I cried every night for her for so long.  For my dad, too.

I can so see him as this little boy lost without either of the people he had initially counted on.  A mother who was his joy and adored him as I am sure his father did in his own way.  He was just confused about how it would work with him being a single father and working and providing a way for him.  My sense is that his father needed to not be reminded of his mother all the time and this was the easy way out for him.

Me:  What was it like when you had to leave your home you lived in with your mom?

Dad:  I didn’t understand why I had to leave.  I wanted to stay and be close to my mom.  But my grandparents lived in California and I had to go.  What choice was there for me?

Me:  Did you tell them how you felt?

Dad:  No, they just wanted me to be a good boy.

Me:  What was it like living with your grandparents?

Dad:  They loved me and bought me toys and took me to church.  I had friends to play with.  I loved them very much.  I missed my mom and dad.  Sometimes dad would come see me.

Me:  I was reading through your diary.  Of course your grandmother wrote it for you.  She wrote using your words and everyday you talked about being a good boy.  That seems to be a big theme for you.  Do you think that you might have been a bad boy and that is why your mom died?

Dad:  As a little boy, yes.  I thought if I hadn’t cried or got mad that she would be here and that it was my fault she was gone.  No one can cause another’s death by their behavior.  Of course you can if you deliberately intend to shoot him.  People die when it is their time to die and it doesn’t matter what is going on with them.  This happened as it should

Me:  It hurt you so much, though.  Your belief system was deeply ingrained into you and you shut down and it affected everyone in your life all the way down to the last generation.

Dad:  I know.  This, too, is as it should be.

Me:  I don’t buy that!

Dad:  That is okay.  It is hard to see.

Me:  Sounds like a cop out.

Dad:  It isn’t but I can understand why you see that.

Me:  I did everything I could to not let my experiences affect me and my family.  They still did.  I had choices and I always knew that.  You had choices too.  You chose to hurt others and I chose to heal others.

Dad:  Yes you did.  You learned your lessons well and survived and came out on top.

I sat silent for a moment.  I am struggling with either to pursue this conversation or get back on track.  I want to walk away and live in my righteous indignation.  After all I deserve it.  He chose to hurt me and I don’t have to choose to listen to what I consider a line of bull crap.  I looked up and saw him in his human form and realized I had moved away from spirit and shut down.  I am already tired of this and part of me wants it done with.  The stronger side understands that if I walked away I would do the exact thing he did.

Dad:  Look for me in spirit and you will find the truth you seek.  Look for me in my human form and you will find justification for your pain.  What do you want most – truth or justification?

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This entry was posted in EMDR, Emotional Abuse, Loving Self, Physical Abuse, PTSD, Sexual Abuse and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Healing from Sexual Abuse – A Transformational Journey – Part 1

  1. Pingback: Healing from Sexual Abuse - A Transformational ...

  2. Pingback: Healing from Sexual Abuse – A Transformational Journey – Part 1 | Greatpoetrymhf's Weblog

  3. Johanna says:

    Tears while reading this ♥ ♥ ♥

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