Childhood Mother In Denial Wrote To Me

[Nyssa]

I think the "Victims grow to become abusers" is a false and destructive belief. Many victims won't become abusers. And abusers have not been necessarily victims in their past. That being said, I do think that abusers create more abusers. From what I've read, there seems to be a significant proportion of abusers who have been badly abused in their past -- not necessarely, the same form of abuse, though. It is not in contradiction with the fact that many other victims won't become abusers, and that other abusers were never victims.

In the case of my brother, FridayJones is propably right. My brother denies it, but from what I remember, there are strong hints that we were both raped by our father. I can not be 100% sure, as I don't remember witnessing anything. But I remember that as young children, we had that common fear and understanding of what our father was capable of. He gave me pratical tips on how not suffocating while doing "dad's stuff", for instance...

And I have this partial memory of my father having my brother holding me on the ground while he was getting started. I was around 8, my brother was around 11. So even if my father did not rape him as well, which I seriously doubt, he was forced to take part.

It may be the saddest part of my story. Having seen my sensitive and protective brother turning into an abuser, and then a serial child rapist. And knowing that it came from my father.

Not that my brother is not responsible for what he became. But to me, my father is definitely responsible for making perversion a "natural" path for him.

Clarification :

For many former victims, there was never any will of abusing anyone else. Sadly, for other victims like my brother, abusing others turned out to be a sick way of "coping" with their pain. Well, actually, I don't know for others. I just have an idea of how it worked for him. It was like an obsession, an addiction even. It was something he had to do. At first, I don't think he realized how wrong and hurtfull it could be. Neither did I. Later on, he worked on convincing himself he was not doing any harm. He was not the brutal type, he was manipulative. I think in the process, he was also trying to convince himself what he was doing was ok. Growing up, he became a master in manipulation, and I have no further insight on how his perverted mind now works.

----

Enough with the darkness.

I forgot one crucial point : yes, I walk towards light.

I just had the best vacations in a very long time. I took a painting and writing class for a week, it was great.

I used to draw and paint. I've tried to get back to it for years but I hated myself too much to go past the "I suck, this is worthless" judgement. With the help of the teacher and the other students, I realized that there were no such things as a worthless creation. You just have to accept what comes out of you. The result will never match the idea you had form, and that's ok. More than that, i's what makes it fun and surprising.

It was liberating. Suddenly, I was flowed with the desire to create, and I took great pleasure in it.

I suppose that on some level, this process of acceptance/liberation can be applied to every action one takes in life.

 

[Nyssa]

I talked to the shrink today about this letter. That made me aknowledged how much it hurts.

My mother is just mean and treacherous. In denial, yes. But still treacherous.

Like all this shit about me living in the darkness and bound to stay in it if I don't "come back" in the family. Like I refuse light, life and love.

It's actually the opposite, and I know it.

She says I hate her, men in general, and most of all : myself. "All that pain for nothing", she says.

She tries to get to me through things which make me vulnerable. That's quite manipulative of her, says the shrink. I have to agree. That what makes me so sad. I remember the time where my mother was still someone, and not just this wall of denial. I have to admit that there's none of that in her letter. She's just accusatory and destructive.

She doesn't know me. And I don't know this woman. Whatever in her was worthy of my love is now gone. Not that it never existed and that I realize that now. It existed and now it's gone.

 

[Muzikluvr]

I'm sorry this is happening to you, Nyssa. I can say nothing that will help you or fix your family, but I can tell you what I think and what I experience due to my no-contact, and my parent's toxic denial. I hope you find something in my post worth reading. It is a long road toward acceptance of this sick family that I was born into...

Denial is a living lie that adapts to maintain the preferred beliefs of those who can't face reality. It's a creepy, chilling, paranoid friend, like Wormtongue in the Lord of the Rings, who whispers lies to the king and manipulates him to do Saruman's bidding. A vile, contemptuous, belief which provides a service; avoidance of a truth which one cannot bear to believe, in exchange for a worse truth, but one which the believer cannot control, is not expected to control, and therefore, need not risk anything to attempt to reconcile or repair.

People in denial are suffering. Your mother is suffering the loss of your relationship, but it is nothing in comparison to what she would suffer if she accepted the truth. Yet, it is my belief, that the truth would set her free from the chains that bind her to a life of concealing truths about an evil loved one (even from herself), and knowing, underneath it all, that the men she loves are destructive forces in the lives of those around her. She knows it on some level. She fights against it. She tries to maintain her perspective, and it eats away at the woman who is real, who is loving, who knows a better life.

Understanding and compassion don't call me back to my family, rather they make it easier to live with the reality of our relationship. I would never submit to their tyranny again, the tyranny of carefully avoiding "the subject" so I don't upset the delicate balance of their denial vs. reasoned logic. They get so angry with me when I confront them with the truth. The audacity! for them to throw the lies, told to them by my rapists and their enablers, in my face, unwittingly! because they don't want to know the truth and perpetuating the lie is a simple matter of believing their perspective is reality. A belief made too difficult to maintain when faced with my confrontations, so they get angry with me and blame me for hurting them whenever I confront them with the truth. They dismiss my perspective easily! Out of hand! They just have no confirmation, no validation, no group affirmation that my perspective is real... and they enjoy living in their group of stubbornly ignorant family and friends. I do not need to subject myself to that, nor do I need any of them to agree with my perspective in order to validate it. They do not define me. I define me, based on my own experiences, based on the way I interpreted the events, based on my own logical reasoning.

I hope you find the strength to do that for yourself, and I hope you find support from others... support that you can embrace. It's so difficult, sometimes, to value outsider's support to the degree that I would value an insider's support, if you know what I mean. For some reason, there are some people in our lives who matter more than others, and without their support, we struggle to enjoy our own perspectives, even when we know we're right. Sometimes, I feel like I could tolerate the lies, just so I could have the love back. Fortunately, never long enough to actually make that known to my family, who would certainly pounce on me with calls and letters... and now... connecting with my children. I couldn't handle that. I don't need that toxic perspective of me represented to my kids. I have enough trouble maintaining their respect.

 

[Nyssa]

Thank you for your answer Muzikluvr.

The way you describe your family's denial is insightful !

I'm not able to say much. I have a bad migraine today.

I am not in any way tempted to go back to my so-called family. Never have been since I left them.

It's just that part of me still hopes my mother is going to wake up some day and apologize for her denial. I'm not sure this hope is going to die before she does.