About Mothers and Honesty pt.2

So as I said in Mothers and Honesty pt. 1 , that fall while I was getting over the SA, me and my mom kept having fights; all the time.

At certain point it’s so often, that I forget that I always felt lucky about my parents. I forget that my mom raised me to be her friend and tell her honestly things whatever they are. I forget that just because they have had a rough life doesn’t mean I have to protect them from the bad sides of mine. Somewhere between trying to protect my family from everything bad that ever happened to me, and my own inability to handle the rough patch that I am going through, I forget how to be honest with my mom.

But there’s nothing like SA to give you the sense that you have to protect yourself – at all cost.

Having had that happen from someone you trust gives you the uncontrollable feeling that you don’t know whom you can trust with what anymore. If protecting yourself means being a little distant from your family-so what? If it means somehow getting colder and distant with your friends and never truly letting them in – then that’s what you have to do. It’s not a conscious thought of course. But that is what you do.

And after a while, I stop remembering why I’m fighting with my mom.

I just get angry.

*

All that was 3 years ago. By any counting, I thought it doesn’t matter. After I went back to university, and I got back to my regular life, we slowly stopped fighting as often. Since then, I always felt that we lost some part of the closeness we had. I told myself that it was okay. Sometimes you grow apart with your friends, or your parents. It’s not like there’s anything I can do about it, I told myself, so I have to just get used to it.

I was never quite as honest again. I started not telling my mom what I buy with my money because I thought she would judge. I stopped telling her when I had bigger problem, because I was afraid that adding to their problems would be too much – for her and for me. Sometimes, I vaguely regretted how things were, but the most part I was pretty content with just letting the subject go.

And then I came to this stage of recovery.

There wasn’t any big revelation about it or anything such. It’s not like in movies. For the most part, I don’t think I considered much what I’d say or how. Continue reading

Advertisements

2. Starting recovery


Sometimes, you start the right thing for the wrong reason or for no reason at all. Sometimes in the midst of a nightmare, you find something to hold on to. In retrospect, the reason doesn’t matter. The reason has no meaning when that one thing is the one thing that keeps you holding onto life.

Until things get better. Or if they do.

         It’s the past August and I have just realized, my life is falling apart. I have just graduated, I have an internship at a great place, and I’ve just recently fallen in love with the perfect person for me(we are still together and crazy for each other)- so you can see how that would come as a surprise. But when you realize that you’ve stopped caring enough to brush your teeth or hair, food has become a chore, and you cry all the time…that has to give you heads up.

I’m breaking down. You’re too weak to deny it anymore. Continue reading

Forgiveness

When I first started recovery, the whole process seemed close to impossible. It seemed I’m trying to get over the biggest most important time in my life, to get over a summer that was hell, that broke me to pieces, and left nothing behind to rebuild over. With time I learned to trust that may be I can get better, overcome it slowly. But it was always about changing myself, it was always about moving so much that I’ll never have time to feel that kind of hopeless, helpless pain of being caught in something over which I have no control and no option of doing anything to change it.

I was trying to overcome the idea of rape and all the other things that happened during this summer. I was never trying to make the summer seem just a bigger moment, because it wasn’t. I was never trying to see the guy as anything but monster, because I couldn’t even think that I will ever be able to do that. Forgiving him was never in the cards. I broke down, went through and started getting over the rape part. But I never intended to think about  him ever again.

But recovery has it’s own timeline and rules, and you never see them until you reach a new step.  Continue reading