I remember a very strong belief I had when I was a kid was that men weren't capable of love. I couldn't fathom it even being possible. I believed in Santa Clause until I was 10, but the idea of men loving anything was impossible to me. I didn't have a father figure in my life growing up after I came to live with my adoptive mother, until I was with Dick and Gayle. The only fathers I knew were the ones in the foster homes. A. and L. were the parents at the home my sisters and I lived at and after meeting them when I was an adult I know L. is a very nice man. A. is batshit crazy and I'm sure some day I will understand why they didn't let me stay with my sisters. I know I was a defiant little shit, I'm sure that I was more difficult than I remember. I know they tried to keep me away from sugar because it made me hyper, so I would sneak Oreos from the cookie jar when everyone was sleeping. The black crumbs gave me away but I had no idea how they always knew what I had done. One thing I don't remember is the day I was sent away. It's really surprising that I don't, considering the other things I do.
One thing that is consistent in my younger childhood is complete suspicion of men and their showing of affection or attention to me. I was in karate when I was 6 and my teacher picked me up and held me, told me I was cute. My little 6 year old brain was wondering if he was coming on to me, but not with such a sophisticated grasp on it. I just wondered if his being affectionate with me was safe. Or when a neighbor held me steady on a step stool at their house--I was afraid that his touching me would lead to more. There was a time my mom left me in the car while she ran into the bank. A scroungy looking guy leaned on a pillar in front of our van and I was terrified. Was he going to try to take me and hurt me? Would my mom get back to the van before he could? I was always on the lookout for danger, always sure that someone was going to get me and no one would protect me.
I still feel that way. I think the reason honesty is so important to me is that I told the truth so many times and no one believed me or would help me. I have a very black and white perception on honesty. Good people tell the truth, bad people lie. But even now when I tell the truth I worry that people won't believe me. Not because in recent history that's the case, but because it's the basis of the first lessons I learned in life. I think it's also the reason I have such a stubborn, bulldog personality. I feel like I HAVE to defend myself because no one else will. My sense of loyalty to people comes from that too, as well as my expectations from friends. When I was placed with my adoptive mother she was told that I made false accusations of sexual abuse and it was her job to get the truth out of me. She told her male relatives to not be alone with me and would try to get me to admit that I had made things up about the boy in that earlier home. I think that's where the dreams about soundless screaming came from. No matter what I said the response I got was that I had ruined HIS life, that he would carry that stigma forever because I had lied. Only I hadn't lied. I was 6.
She found out a few years later that I didn't lie when an attorney showed up at the door of our Fairfield home. She wanted to talk to me, wanted me to testify in court. There were two other girls with the same claims and they finally wanted to hear what I had to say. My mom told them no. She did it to protect me, didn't want me to go through the same thing I had with my father. But in my mind and heart the damage was done. I had a voice that I saw as useless, no one would listen.
Lately that same feeling has popped into my life, the feeling of distrusting men. I think it's just a result of all of the stress I've had the last few years--most caused by my own choices. I resent being hit on by men but I resent being alone. It's hard because what I want is nurturing and love but I have no clue how to accept it. When I was getting my chestpiece done Ben was telling me at the end when it had become painful, that he was almost done and that it would be over soon. I kept interjecting that it was okay, even though I was obviously in pain. He said "I'm just trying to make you feel better here." It really hit home that my defenses don't allow other people to comfort me. That's sad. I sit here feeling alienated from other people but it's because of my own actions and words, not mankind in general.
No comments:
Post a Comment