Incest. There I said the word. My therapist read from a book about incest, the description of what it is. She was using words that I was very uncomfortable with, but I was able to tell her that. Words that describe sexual relations, and organs – words that I never utter.
I think maybe the reason why, is that even though I was very young when it started, those words put pictures in my mind that I don’t want to look at. I am uncomfortable because they remind me of specific parts of the abuse, and I don’t want to remember them. I want them not to have happened. They changed my life forever.
As a young adult, not even 18 yet, I allowed myself to be ‘used’ by men, for the attention that got me. If I did this, they would do that. I was revolted during any encounter with members of the opposite sex.
The feelings were there, but I washed them away with alcohol. Alcohol took me away from all the abuse, at least I thought it did. But I remember crying in the middle of the street because someone didn’t come to the door. I lived in the middle of anger, fear and revulsion with my life, but I did nothing to change it. I was letting him to continue to abuse me, even when he was over 100 miles away.
I am starting on a journey, to specifically work through these emotions and feelings, and hopefully get to the point where they no longer control my life. They cannot harm me. He cannot harm me.