The early years
I've heard a lot of excuses for what happened to me. It was suggested to me that there is always worse abuse out there, but how bad does it have to be for someone to notice.
Then there was projecting the abuser's behavior onto me, and then protecting the abuser. Like once my brother got so drunk at a party I literally had to box him off me. I was then blamed for being drunk, and my brother was the innocent party.
I wonder what they are afraid of. What ugly part of our family history might also come out and illuminate a few generations of abuse; it never just started with my brother, it started with my mother and once my brother abused me at her bidding, my mother washed her hands of the history, and blamed him.
Flashback. I am 11 years old.
My mother pushes me to try on a thin nightie to show my stepdad. I tell her it's see-thru and I am not comfortable showing him. She continues pushing me to show him.
I move uncomfortably a few steps from my bedroom door. When he sees me I know his look is not one of genuine affection, but more like sexual arousal.
My mother seems to think this is normal, and she kisses my stepdad. This is where I remember when the abuse became sexual.
My mother couldn't have done that intentionally. Did she? It felt like she was handing me over to him; using my naivity, and innocence that she did not possess but wanted to use. Or corrupt. It is so hard to tell.
She didn't mean any harm did she? I know he meant harm but it's hard to tell what exactly she was up to. As time wore on her intentions became evil. Some part of them went from being innocent to guilty, and it was not a part of their initial intentions in the first place.