Paying respect to my abuser.

Hello poppets,

I hope you’re all well.

Today’s blog post was definitely not one i had planned.
I don’t often talk directly about my abuse but today i feel a perfect time to have a little reflection as its a big reason why i do what i do.

If you saw my posts on various social media you will of heard that on the 22nd August 2016,my main abuser died.
The most prominent thing i remember about my abuser is that she was always unwell. Around 2 years ago i was told she had something terminal. Never the less it was a huge shock when she finally went.

I was desperate to feel some sort of emotion and as my emotions are so out there and have no ability of stopping them i couldn’t understand why there was nothing. I wasn’t sad and i wasn’t happy. I must of spent about 3 days trying to work out why there wasn’t anything. Did i just not care? or was i going to be balling my eyes out in a few days? It was only on my walk to work that i realised that i had found the emotion that i was so desperately looking for and it had been there all along, relief.

Both myself and far too many others had dealt with the wrath of my abuser. It was that final ‘Its all over’ sort of a feeling. Hundreds of years of one big cycle of abuse.Being passed down from generation to generation and its all over. For the first time in my life i have nothing to be frightened of. Yes i don’t particularly like clowns or those old creepy dolls,but that true fear,i have no more of.

With the huge chapter to my life finally closed i wanted to do one last thing. I diddnt want to celebrate and i diddnt want to mourn. What on earth could i do to end this chapter of my life and put to bed all the things that had happened?

I remember one conversation i had with my main abuser. (I know, shock horror a normal conversation)
It was actually based on the thought that they were helping with my ‘mentalness’ (Chuckle chuckle). Regardless they told me how bands had helped them during tough times in their lives. Music was definitely the same for me. I decided that during the course of the morning i would listen to the bands that i had been brought up with by my abuser and close it all with 1 minute of mindfulness.

Unfortunately though my main abuser recognised what helped them a little they still never sought proper help. I guess the music represented a time when they did have the ability to recognise what helped them and even tried. The 1 minute of silence represented that i have the ability to have that complete silence and restful mind. My abusers mind was non stop and never at rest. I don’t believe there was ever a time when they had the ability to switch off from all the hate. I even remember plucking up them courage to say to them when they were quiet “i know your thinking of something to say or do” and low and behold a nasty comment or action was followed.

It was my way of saying goodbye to it all. It wasn’t celebrating death and it wasn’t in sadness, it was just enough.

Its a really weird situation for me. Ive read many a book of people rejoicing when their abusers or people that have hurt them pass away but i feel its because its not come from a healed nor forgiving place. When i first got over the angry phase and started to heal from what my abuser had done and learn about where i and they had come from i started to feel deeply sorry for them. No that didn’t mean i baked them a cake and trotted round with a card that said ‘Sorry for your tough time’. This was someone i was terrified of but still to have people terrified of you is a horrible thing.

It is heartbreaking for me to think that they never felt true happiness. That they never felt love or knew how to give it or show it. That probably could be the saddest thing i could ever imagine. Every person i see i could squeeze the life out of. How on earth do you get to the point where you hate everything and everyone in sight?

Does that mean im announcing i support child abuse? Not at all.
My part in stopping child abuse is stopping people from wanting to do it. I heard some pretty horrific stories from my abuser of what happened to them and also how they were taught to keep it quiet. I could of questioned it until i was assaulted twice by people of the same family and saw all the same behaviors again and then was told to forget it ever happened. This had all come from a really dark horrible horrible place. Unfortunately my abuser never got any help or support leaving her to continue the behaviour and for me to suffer years of torment. This is why i do what i do and share my story and recovery. We need to get to the bottom of why these people are doing what they do. I don’t want anyone to ever feel that hurt and low and have to resort to hurting another human being.

When i told my friends and those closest to me it was a mixed response to say the least. Everyone was overwhelmed but not quite on the level i was. Infact they were thrilled. I guess i expected it a little bit but i thought there would be at least one person on the same level as me. I asked even the noblest of souls as i thought they would feel something along the same lines of me but still i was told to almost rejoice in it.

Its not often i feel really proud of myself or reflect on it but having the ability to pay respect to someone that at one point i thought wasn’t going to let me see the next day is something i am proud of.