TW I suppose
I met him when I was 6. He was my dad's girlfriend at the times brother. My future step uncle. . I liked him immediately. He was nice, he was friendly, he paid attention to me. I met him when we went to her mothers for dinner. He bought my sister and I a game, perfection. He had set it up somehow to trick us so it was already complete. Everyone was laughing. It was a big practical joke. We liked him and nicknamed him "X with a mustache" I sat on his lap. He seemed to like me and want to get to know me. He seemed more interested in me then in my sister. I liked the attention. I was craving it really. He seemed like a big kid. Looking back I can see this as grooming. The beginning.
I do not remember how often he visited. I do not know how much it happened. I have flashes of memories, some detailed some not. It was strange before I remembered I just knew we had a close "special" relationship, and I felt odd about it. I remembered feeling as if something had gone wrong, he had stopped liking me, stopped paying attention to me. I felt shame when he was brought up. When I remembered it all made sense. I can see exactly how I was vulnerable. I was already a mess. It is hard to tell this part because I know it from my parents perspective. I have no memory of it, so it gets colored by them. There is deep shame there, deep emptiness. The sense of being wrong or bad. I already felt rejected, I already felt hated, I already felt unloved.
It started with ESU just holding me on his lap. He was very touchy feely from the start. He alway had his hands on me, rubbing my back, my hair, my arms my legs. He would tickle me he was always physical in his play. He would tell me I was special, that he cared about me, he wanted us to be close.
I feel disgusting when i think about this, I feel a deep sense of shame. I feel I should have known better, that I should have known what he was and what he was doing. I blame myself for being stupid enough to fall for it, to believe he really cared about me. I hate myself for being so needy, for wanting the attention. I feel like I deserved it, it was punishment somehow for wanting love and affection. Those were not things I was supposed to receive. I was not supposed to have needs.
I also have anger, but I can't talk about that. Admitting I feel that is hard enough.
I was not the child they wanted and they rejected me because of it. I was left alone in the NICU, unheld for the most part. My body was sliced open when I was 2 days old and there were countless medical procedures, needles, tubes and so on. I was fed through a tube. I did not bond I did not attach I did not learn how to get my needs met. My cries were not responded to by food or a diaper change or snuggling. I don't know how much they were responded to at all. I imagine myself there cold, alone, and in pain. I can almost feel the tubes and wires coming out of my body. I can almost see myself, in the room, sterile with little stimulation. Hooked up to machinery instead of held by a mother.
My mother talks about it making it all about her. how hard it was for her. How miserable she was. She cannot admit it had any impact on me whatsoever. A therapist once suggested it, when I was 15, and she pulled me out immediately, had be convinced this was a "bad therapist." So all the guilt, shame, and blame go on me. I was the bad child. I was born broken.
I was blind in one eye, I had casts on my legs, I did not walk until I was 2. I crawled on my back. I got tubes in my ears. Continued medical testing.
I am told I cried a lot. I am told I had a lot of tantrums. I am told I used to bang my head on the floor. I was unconsolable. This made them reject me more, push me away more, I was bad I was wrong. School was horrible, I was always getting into trouble. I was bullied, made fun of, they called me ugly, they made fun of my hair, they made fun of my voice, they laughed at me. I would act out, I would hit I would scream I would cry I would get into trouble. I would be yelled at, I would be told that sticks and stones can break your bones but words cant harm you, I needed to change I needed to have better behavior, I needed to learn to control myself. I was to sensitive.
But ESU liked me.
As I write this I feel like I am making it worse then it was, there were good things, even though I cant remember. My parents were good, they loved me they cared about me, they protected me. My mother tells me the good things she did, how she advocated for me. They were not all bad. Sitting in the tension is horrible I don't understand how they can both be true, I don't understand how there can be good things and bad things. It feels to confusing, it feels like one negates the other, if there was good then the bad was not so bad and if there was bad then there cannot also be good. If they really loved me and cared about me and were protecting me then why was I treated that way and why did I develop the issues I did? Why was I so unprotected and feel so unloved? My only answer is that they didn't really love me, or that they loved the idea of me but not who I was. They loved what they wanted me to be, they loved the child they expected. I was supposed to be the child my mother enjoyed and instead she got me.
My earliest memory I was 4, and my mother sister step father and I lived at X, my carpet was the same color as my mothers and there were scary steps to the basement and a scary dog next door. I remember strange things, playing in the gravel on X street waiting with my mom for the bus and my sister. I remember reading the for sale sign and my mother being impressed. I remember my ducky dress, I remember falling on my face the first day of kindergarten and getting a huge bump on my head, I remember K, she bought me underwear for my birthday which I thought was weird. I remember sitting on the street with my step dad painting chairs and him taking us over to meet the kids across the street. I remember loving math and H and I would say my birthday is birthday and thought it was hysterical. I remember getting through two math books. I remember fighting over the R with Rachel and sitting in my cubby as they learned about peaches and crossing my hands over her eyes because she took my seat. I remember not getting to give a flower to an 8th grader and crying and getting yelled at because they thought I wanted a flower to myself. . I remember meeting my former step mother I remember her getting my sister and I these enormous hannukkah coloring books and asking my dad if HE was a friend from work and him saying yes. We assumed it was a he. I remember going to her apartment and playing with giant boxes. At the end of kindergarten E and I sang "at the farm the cows said moo." I was the tree fairy in the play and wore a paper plate crown. These are my memories until the age of 6. Then I remember ESU