Sabotaging Prisoner

This post is in response to both Romana’s question to my latest post, Message in the WiFi, as well as my own processing I’ve been going through in the last week, which is the reason for my resent silence.

Romana asked "did u self sabotage urself? and do u "know it now?" My answer would be definitively, "YES".

For me, the sabotaging of myself has been through keeping silent, which I learned from a very young age. Although there was and still is an inner voice that screams for me to open my mouth and say something, I’ve pretty much for the most part remained silent. Why? Because silence is acceptable. Silence portrays the traits of someone that is well controlled. Someone that appears to have it altogether. Silence affords you opportunities to not be noticed. Silence affords you opportunities to not be reprimanded for not conforming. On the flip side, silence causes a great deal of pain. It causes one to suffer miserably without anyone knowing.

When did I learn to be silent? It was when I was 5 years old. My cousin, whom I loved dearly, and I were molested by her father. He threatened to take Kimmy far away and for us to never see each other again if we said anything. Neither Kimmy nor I have talked about this, but rather each suffered separately silently. Eventually Kimmy’s father decided he wanted to leave California and take his family to lands unknown. He loaded them all up in a car and drove until the car broke down and decided that was where they’d live. (He's such a freakin' idiot....Ooops, I digress.) They ended up in some really remote small town called Mead in Colorado far from any family or friends. Was I sad that Kimmy left? A part of me was, and yet another part of me was relieved because selfishly I knew he wouldn’t be doing anything to me again. However, I never once thought until years later what Kimmy must have endured being all alone in Mead, Colorado.

The one thing I knew about Kimmy and I was that we both use to try to speak up, which was only received as badmouthing girls that should learn to be more respectful and to keep their mouths shut. We were to be seen and not heard. This use to infuriate us, but again we never talked about it. It just boiled in us that no one would listen to us.

There was certainly much strain between Kimmy’s mom (my aunt) and my mom, as they were close sisters that had been torn away from one another by this vile man. He certainly conquered what he wanted by parting the family and degrading my aunt enough to believe she was worth nothing. She even attempted to commit suicide later in life due to the strains of this man’s brutality, but after surviving such attempts she’s now became merely a shell of existence. She seems to have resolved herself to accept the suffering in silence and prays for God’s mercy.

I recall my mom taking me to Kimmy’s house when Kimmy was preparing to get married and her brother was preparing to graduate from high school. Mind you Kimmy was only 18 at the time of her marriage, which was a clear sign she couldn’t wait to get out from under the control and sickness of her father. Anyway, my mom who never knew to the best of my knowledge as I had never said anything about Kimmy’s father molesting us, reminded me on the way to Colorado to mind my manners and not cause trouble……to just keep my mouth shut. Out of respect for my mom or maybe pure fear of being punished severely by her I agreed to keep quiet. We were not even at Kimmy’s house for a day, two at the most, and already her father was trying to offer me beer to drink (I was only a year older than Kimmy), and telling me how pretty I was and how nice looking I turned out to be. Literally my skin crawled at the sight of this man that I nearly threw up on him as he spoke these disgusting words to me. My mother was certainly within ear shot as we were all outside preparing for a bbq. I couldn't look at him because I couldn’t take his stares, his sleaziness, his offering me beer anymore, and told him I didn’t want any beer and to just leave me alone. This made him very angry because no one spoke back to him, and certainly not a snot-nosed brat of a teenager was going to disobey him. He told me I had a smart mouth and that I should be punished for my bad behavior. I told him that if he touched me there would be more serious trouble for him and not for me. My mom and aunt became so distraught and upset over this exchange that they agreed my mom should take me away and go stay in a hotel room as I was causing too much trouble. My poor cousins seemed so frightened and scared and literally you could see them close within side themselves, as if to make themselves invisible.

My mom grabbed my arm and dragged me to the car. I could feel how angry and seething she was at this very moment. She drove out of the driveway very fast with absolutely no clarity as to where she was suppose to go as she was not familiar with Colorado let alone this tiny remote town that didn’t even have a grocery store. As she sped down the dirty dusty dirt road she began yelling at me, "ibeebarbie, how could you do this? Why couldn’t you just suck it up and keep your mouth shut? Why did you have to cause a seen?" I was so furious at her for blaming me for this trouble. I yelled back telling her how could she blame me. Why did she think it was right that this asshole offered me beer? She said well you could have just said, "no" and left it at that. I told her, "mom that guy's an idiot and I HATE him." She said, "honey, we all hate him, but I love my sister so put up with him for her sake". I told her I didn’t like the way the guy hugged me or that he said how pretty I was or how he made me feel uncomfortable. She again reminded me that she understood but sometimes we do things like keeping our mouths shut for the sake of others. She reminded me that my aunt was weak and had no one to help her and that my mom was the only connection she had. She hoped that if we could smooth things over with her sister’s husband that they could remain in contact with one another. Otherwise she worried terribly for losing her sister as a result of this situation. Of course I assumed all of this was my fault as I had been repeatedly told that my mouth was my worst feature, that I never learned to control it, and therefore was made to suffer as a result of disobedience. I was told that when we went back to my aunt’s house I needed to apologize for my rudeness and to keep my mouth shut. At this very moment, I hated every single adult in that Colorado family including my mom because no one cared what I was going through. I wanted so badly just to go home where I felt safer than I did at this godforsaken place. She told me that everything would soon be over and we’d go home. We returned to my aunt’s house and I apologized to everyone with an absolute void with inside my soul, as if my soul had left my own physical body as a form of preservation to get through the remaining time.

Between the years of 5 and 16 I had been molested by my cousin’s father, other male friends of my family, and was raped at 16 by my best friend’s brother. All the while I sat silently suffering inside. I, too, understood my aunt’s desire to end her life as she failed three times to commit suicide. I attempted myself to end my life in my very late teens because the pain inside of me was far more painful than any one person could handle. Thankfully another family friend found out and took care of me, and as a result I am still alive today because of that person. Truly God sends messengers and angels to us all the time without our knowledge.

There was never a time that I could remember where the voice within me didn’t want to scream out, didn’t want to ask for help, but I denied that voice because I was told I was bad if I opened my mouth. I never wanted to be perceived as bad by others because I already saw myself as bad on the inside. Moreover, in attempt to be somewhat in control, I used my weight as my controlling factor. Due to the unwanted attention of men, I padded myself through food in order to make myself look less desirable. I would even wear dark clothing in order to appear invisible and unattractive. I would not wear makeup because I didn't want to enhance any of my features, even though my eyes were always a give away (like Amira's), and an attractiveness to others. Sadly and yet laughably so I was always told, "Oh ibeebarbie, you have such a pretty face. If you could just lose a little weight you'd be absolutely gorgeous and sexy." Can you imagine to someone who has been shamefully violate how these words felt? After hearing these words so many times and the violations that happened to me, there was no way in hell I was going to part with my wall of cushion. Because after all if I was getting all this unwanted attention looking like plain jane, what would happen if I actually removed the padding.......God forbid I never wanted to know.

Of course, my parents never knew these things happened to me. Because of my mom’s own self-loathing, she was not a safe person for me to go to in order to disclose the things that had happened to me, and therefore because I didn’t feel safe with her I didn’t think anyone was safe to tell things too. I wanted so badly to tell my father because I always felt safe with him, but I decided not to because I didn’t want him to think badly of me. Although I always imagined how he would react if I told him. He would be a valiant night who rescued me from the pain.

Although I learned to deal with the silent obedience, my insides suffered dearly because the voice to speak up never silenced. There always seemed to be an internal battle that went on between my outspoken voice that wanted to stand up and protect against injustice and the vacant complacent voice that wanted to be invisible. For if I could be invisible then no one would hurt me anymore. However, I realize now that the other side of being invisible for the sake of not being hurt also means that if no one sees you hurting they can’t help you.

Years later when I was in my late 20’s I decided to take the risk and tell my parents of the things that had happened to me. My mother’s response was, "Honey don’t worry. We won’t tell anyone about this." I became enraged and told her, "Mom, don’t you understand I DIDN’T DO ANYTHING WRONG. I was a child." She didn’t really have a response to this statement. My father on the other hand came over to me and hugged me. He told me that he was so sorry to hear these things had happened to me. He felt terrible, as he had no idea. He wondered if I worried about him doing something that would have caused him to go to jail if I had told him, and I confirmed that yes that’s what I worried about. He reminded me I didn’t need to worry, and that I could talk to him about anything. I could see the pain in his eyes knowing I had been violated, and he wasn’t able to do anything to save me. I realized he was the knight in shining armor I had always secretly dreamt of, and felt safe for the first time in a long time. I didn’t feel ashamed for the first time, and I actually felt heard by him, but my mom on the other hand………not so much. Still to this day, she ignores these things that have happened. I suppose from her own unknown sufferings she couldn’t acknowledge these things happening to me because then she’d have to acknowledge them as real, and that may just be too painful for her.

You know, no matter how old we get it seems like we are always trying to win the approval or acceptance of our parents. At least I know I have with respect to my mom. I’m not certain why I continue trying, as the result is always the same…..it’s not going to happen. She’s not capable of doing it. However, I suppose there’s a part of myself that feels that if she at least acknowledged me then somehow I’d be validated, and no longer invisible. I realize now and have been realizing that I no longer need her acknowledgement in order to feel whole or to feel visible. For only I can make myself visible, and the way to do that is to use my voice for one and for another I need to allow myself to FEEL again. I’ve lived in such a numbed state for so long that it’s no wonder I don't remember what feeling feels like. I also realize that in order to feel whole and loved I need to do this for myself and for Amira’s sake as well. I don’t want Amira to ever feel she has to suffer in silence or to numb herself in order to ‘survive’ in this life. For I realize these aren’t necessarily life long survival skills as much as they are imprisonment skills. Sure they served a purpose at one time, but I must embrace change and recognize that the old ways don’t always work for the future……..unless, of course, you want to remain forever stuck.

So why do I share all this crazy dysfunction with you? Because I need to be free. I need to remove the chains that bind me and release myself from sabotaging prison. Am I scared as hell to share this part of myself with you? ABSOLUTELY!!!!!!! However, the risk of continuing to destroy myself and potentially Amira is far greater, and for those reasons I alone I must take the risk. For what do I have to lose? Nothing! If need be I can always discontinue blogging (however, I have no intentions of doing so), but at least I know I freed myself and that alone gives me strength.

Can you imagine how crazy this statement is going to sound? I’m a little nervous about opening the door to "feeling". Because for me, "feeling" equates to pain only. However, logically I know that there is more to "feeling" than pain, but the nervousness of uncertainty is still the same.