Secrets & the Unknown

It's really hard for me to deal with secrets and the unknown.  I remember the obvious abuse that happened to me at the hands of my stepmonster, but there are times I feel I may not remember everything about that.  I get worn down by secrets and not knowing what really happened to me growing up - the full picture.  Some tell me to let it go, but I can't.  I know it wasn't a great childhood, in fact, many would say horrific, but I still don't have the full picture of what happened to me.  I want to know and feel I have a right.  I'm not angry at them, I just want honesty, and I want answers. 

I keep finding out little things about my childhood that I've never known.  When I actually gain information from family members, my reaction is one of shock and relief.  Things make a little more sense, but then I go back to shock again.  How I was treated as a child is deplorable, but here I am in one piece - shockingly doing okay in my life.  Who was that little girl and what happened to her?  I struggle for answers.  Not many family members are willing to talk about it.  They tell me that's all water under the bridge - well, it's water under my bridge and I don't know anything.  Tired of people protecting me for what they think is for "my good."

I recently found out from my father that my mom used to give me vodka when I was a baby because she thought it was funny.  When I was 2, my dad came home after work one day and he said I was a limp noodle or a wet rag.  He was so upset that he wanted to take me to the hospital.  My mother said I'd be fine and that she'd only given me vodka - she thought it was funny.  He insisted and I was looked over by a doctor.  The doctor could smell the alcohol on my breath.  My dad said that I was taken away from both of them for a bit and lived with my aunt.  I remember living with my aunt, but didn't ever know why.  This explains it.  I would live with family off and off in my life because my mom would drink herself to death and end up in the hospital numerous times. 

I remember a few years ago my aunt telling me a few stories over tea about when I was really little.  She seemed very uneasy talking to me about it because she didn't want to betray my mother, said that those stories were for another time.  She did say that when I had come to her house to stay as a little girl, I was just skin and bones - as though I'd not been fed or taken care of.  This is upsetting, but why would my mother do this?  My mom used to tell me I used to be her "torture doll" and that she was mean to me.  She was surprised (and relieved) I didn't remember.  

I'm on a mission to fill in the pieces of my childhood, and to learn more about what happened to the little girl I was.  From what I've experienced and remember as a little girl, and from what other family members tell me, it's a miracle that I am the woman I am today.  I never once gave up, I never tanked my life and I rose above the statistic of what I "could" have been.  Other survivors who are walking this path CAN do the same...