Just this afternoon I was told by someone who will be the main focus of this post not to talk about them on my "unhelpful" and "problematic" and "lying, attention-seeking" blog.
I had a very emotional and heart-wrenching truth-telling session with my mother over the phone last week. I told her, honestly, things that I had felt for a long time but NEVER intended to say to her. Brutally honest things. Things that she definitely got defensive about but things that she also cried with me over and listened to.
One of those was self-harming behaviors by "the-one-who-shall-not-be-named."
Then, this afternoon when asking a question within the one's area of expertise, I was chastised for mentioning "them" on my blog (something I have not done) and for telling my mother about their self-harm.
I acknowledged that they and I had never had a conversation about self-harm, but that I had seen the self-harming with my own eyes in public and I had only told my mother exactly that.
They immediately professed shock at the notion of ever having done so as a younger child and when I brought up a vivid, particularly bad time, I was told in a ferocious roar that such a thing never happened. They had no memory of that and therefore I was making up things. They told me that I needed to stop blaming "everyone else" for my problems and that "seeing a shrink" would not help me with this chronic blame-shifting that I am apparently engaged in.
They continued in a loud voice over the phone to berate me for taking medications (a "band-aid" that would make my delusions worse) and for doing other things like talking about my story and seeking professional help. I was crying and attempting to defend myself and suddenly I realized that I could hang up and that is what I did!!
Like my hero "Shade" says: +5 points!
It shook my self-confidence much more than I expected and left me on the side of the road sobbing for about 15 minutes. It is one thing to praise Cynthia Jeub for voicing her story, it is another to be called a liar by people you know/knew and do/did respect.
I mentioned in a previous post how I am anonymous because of this very reason. I dont have Cynthia's courage to face my attackers with my own name. I write posts about them anonymously, taunting at them to find me in the chasm of the internet, daring never to come near the light.
The pain is too much for me.
I dont know if "they" have repressed these memories and called old scars "bicycle accidents" or if they really did not happen. But I have more stories and clear memories that I would be glad to share with them and with the people who I KNOW where witnesses. I am sure eventually someone will remember and the pieces will fall into place.
Repression and Stockholm syndrome all on one: someday I will be here for you, sweetheart.
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