Trigger Scale: (3.5/5) ***½

I have recently been in crisis lately, as I am close to ending the denial that I have always been in about my former abuse and abusers. But nobody believes me! I have been waiting 15 years to tell this secret, and now that I have…nothing. I imagined telling this secret would be the worst thing every, that I would be shunned by society and maybe spontaneously explode, but no. No one cares, no one seems surprised and others just don’t believe me. Why don’t they believe me? Why does no one believe me?

I tried to tell my best friend about a specific memory that has tortured my consciousness for the last few weeks. It was very hard for me to share, but I felt that he would understand, or least be able to empathize with where I was at emotionally…WRONG! I told him about my memory, of the black doctor’s bag, (TRIGGER WARNING) and how upset it was making me. His response basically was, “Are you sure? Memory is unreliable, and 90% of memory is false. You know when they round up 100 eye witnesses, you get 100 different testimonies.”

What the fuck!! Did he just call me a liar! WTF!? Anyone else with me in thinking that is entirely the wrong response. I don’t hold it against him, because really, how can I expect him to understand that I am so bothered now by something that happened over 20 years ago. But it did not happen 20 years ago for me. I did not know, until recently. What other way can I be expected to react? And why doesn’t he believe me? Why would I lie?…this is not any fun for me.

When I was younger I was known as “The Mouth,” the biggest liar in the west. Careful, don’t believe anything that I say! There is a long story behind the reasons I was a compulsive liar, which I hope to fully tell here soon, but for now, here is the short of it. At this point I had already been abused many times, I was frustrated and only 6…

When I was very young I was sexually abused by a babysitter on a repeated basis. I tried to tell my father, but he did not believe me, or choose not to (or already knew!?). I tried to tell everyone, but they didn’t believe the words that I was using. I don’t have specific memories, except one, of trying to tell ‘authorities’ in my life what was happening to me just wasn’t right (not very helpful, since they were the abusers, and I just could not recall – maybe this is why, pedophiles are smarter than I thought).

Around the same time period I was sexually abused by the babysitter, I had another “daytime” babysitter who beat me badly (I had recently been in a body cast, and still needed constant care), Lydia. She beat me so bad with belts and other leather instruments, that I was badly bruised almost every day. On this particular day though, it was really bad, and I think the skin had broken and was bleeding, in the middle of a huge purple-blue welt that covered nearly a quarter of my back. I was mad. I was hurt, and I was tired of being subjected to her…

I came out that day to show my father, once again, when he picked me up, right there in the parking lot. I pulled my shirt up and looked him squarely in they eye from over my bruised shoulder, and said something like “I’m bleeding this time. I don’t want to come back here. I can watch myself,” almost like a challenge, to see how he would react. He looked at my shoulder, then quickly looked away and said “What do you want me to do about it?, I don’t see anything?” He grabbed me by the same shoulder and shoved me into the passenger seat of the car.

I remember walking around to the car door when I saw a dragonfly…a big, beautiful green and purple one that flew away, to wherever it wanted to…I guess I was already good at dissociation by the age of 6.

My father’s reaction was typical of the adults in my life. I learned that if I told the truth, no one would believe me. I also found that if I lied, sometimes I could get what I wanted/needed. So again, I’m used to no one believing me as a child…but I am an adult now. I do not compulsively lie anymore, and have no reason to. I am hurting, and I am so close to acceptance, so why does no one believe me? I have been hurt…

My Monster Has A Name… actually many. This blog is a safe place for me to share my healing journey from childhood abuse. The topics covered are at times controversial, offensive, horrific, and hopefully sometimes inspiring. Thank you for sharing in my journey.