The initial letter

This is the letter, sent to our family that started this blog...hopefully if you are reading this, it will help you to understand.

3/18/12
Family,
With the recent events (B#2’s attempted suicide and need for family support) most of you have offered to support and to have an open dialogue with the rest of the family. I believe it is time for me to tell you where I am in life.
I have Major Depression, maybe Bipolar disorder. I finally conceded to take an antidepressant about a month ago and must say it has helped immensely. I had gotten to a point that the only way to push the constant, negative monologue out of my head was to stay as busy as possible. These negative thoughts were all encompassing, my marriage, my teaching, my studies, even my kids. Even the things that mean the most to me were not exempt from this negativity. This busy-ness has been a pattern all of my life. When past memories or the pain of not really having a family hit me, I just found another project to immerse myself in…it’s an addiction of sorts.
We have a pattern in our family. We hide from the truth to preserve what we cling to …the illusion of belonging to this family. But we have settled in areas that are not easy to visit, we rely on a weekly email that’s full of sunshine and happiness. The truth is that we have mental health issues and addictive behaviors that go unspoken…food, alcohol, drugs, religion,you name it. The only way that I can escape this pattern is to speak the truth.I will tell you my story…indulge me, it goes way back. This is not an attempt to call blame to any person, it is the beginning of healing for me and hopefully for some of you too.
In 1995, I had a patient who had dissociative personality disorder (multiple personalities). She was undiagnosed when I first saw her, but trusted me enough to reveal this to me and explain what it was like. She called me one Saturday morning, in her 4 year old personality’s voice, begging me to save her. She had gone home for the weekend and was being sexually and physically abused. I had the most overwhelming reaction to this phone call. I was enraged…not just angry…but to the point that I was going to rescue her and kill the family members responsible for this. Any of you that know me understand that I don’t kill bugs in my house…I set them free. I had an acute PTSD (post traumatic stress disorder) reaction. Luckily, my husband calmed me down and reminded me that I had 2 children and killing might not be the best option.
After that I began having flashbacks from my childhood. At first I didn’t believe or understand them.  They were of physical and mental abuse…S#1 being so angry she dug her nails into my arms and being hit on bare skin with a brush. It was being put into a dark closet when Mom and Dad weren’t home. It was being called fat and worthless. They were of crying in the middle of the night and having no one even check on me. They were also of sexual abuse/molestation, they occurred around F-burg, mostly behind neighbor’s garage, but also in cornfields, and a tent following a pretend wedding, camping trips. There were games that were sexual in nature. There was boys tackling the neighbor and tearing open her shirt and hitting her breasts (“tittywhackers”), mine were too small…it was all very confusing and disturbing.
I don’t have clear recollection of the events which is one of the reasons I haven’t spoken about this… but it is real and it did happen. I remember putting an end to it…I was about 10 yearsold, being woken up in the middle of the night, B#1 rubbing my back and breasts asking me to come across the hall to his room…I found the courage to say no and said that if he ever touched me again I would tell Dad and that Dadwould kill him. It never happened again.
I remember, after we moved to P, Dad had some of of us in a room and asked if we had played “games” at the neighbors…I don’t know if they called or why he asked. No one admitted to the truth. I believe we were all afraid of the consequences if we told. It was as if we made a silent pact of secrecy. I remember asking a friend if her brothers played sexual games with her and she said yes…well, that normalized it for me and I was able to repress the memories. At least until this patient brought it back out into my consciousness. I have been hiding the truth for 16 or more years now.
Again, my intention with this letter is to open a dialogue and help us all to heal. People who abuse are victims themselves, it is a learned behavior.
If we could all begin to speak the truth, to share our experiences, no matter how painful they are, we can all begin to heal. The addictions and mental health issues are manifestations of years of repressing and denying the truth. I have lived with a wall built so strongly around my heart that no one can get in. When I wrote the “forgiveness”letter years ago I thought that I could break open that wall and actually love others. I have forgiven, but I have been afraid of speaking truth. I am still a victim being controlled. Afraid that no one will believe me, afraid to be rejected by a family that is at best an illusion, afraid of hurting people that I should support.
 I am so afraid…but after B#2's attempted suicide I am more afraid of keeping the secret and sinking deeper into depression and killing myself. I choose life, I choose truth, I choose to love.
I wish you Shalom,