I suppose at some point everything has to come to a stop. Tolkien Boy has been the unlucky recipient of the majority my ranting and anger and tears for nearly three weeks now. Darrin has had more than his share. AtP left the country to get away from me, or no doubt he would have been on the receiving end of one of my maniacal raves, as well.
I'm finished being angry. Now I'm just sad. I feel that I might be sad forever. Tolkien Boy and Darrin have assured me that someday the sadness will ease, and I'll be all right.
When I was younger, I don't ever recall feeling that my life was unfair. It was simply...my life. I remember feeling angry, lonely, worthless, unwanted, abandoned, miserable, confused, unhappy, hurt...but I always owned those feelings and the experiences that caused them. Today I feel that there was unfairness. Today I feel some bitterness about it. It makes me sad.
I understand that my life, as I have made it, is something for which I should be incredibly grateful. Therapist repeatedly tells me that I have beaten the odds in nearly every aspect of my life. People who have experiences such as mine rarely end up in healthy marriages--I attribute this blessing to Darrin. People who have experiences such as mine usually end up with emotionally scarred children--the jury's still out on this one, as my children aren't finished yet. But if they end up well-adjusted and generally happy, I'll count my blessings. People who have experiences such as mine generally don't survive--pedophiles who abuse their victims in the way that I was used, usually take the life of that victim. I attribute this to the age of my cousin at the time...
Okay, the truth is (and I've known this always), that I believe I've been watched over and protected all my life. It's difficult for me to say this because I've also been wondering what kind of sadistic God watches a child be molested repeatedly, but draws the line at death? What kind of omnipotent being watches her confusion at the amount of her own blood mingled with semen and allows her to believe she might die from pain and loneliness? What kind of Creature lets her live through that experience while simultaneously being abused physically and emotionally by her own mother?
As I've watched the flashbacks and nightmares, occasionally I become detached, but in that detachment part of me wants to gather up the tiny broken body and hold it close to me as I rock myself back to sleep. Part of me wants to cuddle the child who hurts too badly to cry. All of me wants to rewrite her story--and I can't--and something deep inside me screams that it's not fair--if I can't change it, it shouldn't happen, and I don't want to live with it for the rest of my life...
A couple of days ago I visited a blog of a woman who has HIV. On her blog she had posted, "I can't be cured, but I can heal."