Living With Child Abuse
My grandfather was a far from pleasant human being; why my grandmother married him God alone knows. He had a prediliction for young girls and boys of a certain age range though, oddly, he never bothered my father. To cap it all he had a past, a reputation, with the police, local parents and the town in general. Oh, and the armed forces who wanted nothing to do with him. My nan could do little to protect herself let alone me. Nan was a strong willed person with a mind of her own and thoughts of her own yet when it came to my granfather - God alone knows!
Why, why did my parents leave me with him? They knew what he was. Crikey, my father and various uncles had gone to the police station on many occasions to sort out another mess. I lost my childhood, I lost my innocence, I lost trust in my parents, I shut down my mind. I went from being a bright, inquisitive child to one who was withdrawn and quiet suffering from bullying at school.
Then along came my husband. Lord alone knows how, but he found a way to find the 'me' squirreled away. Touch, which I still abhor from family or friends, I crave from him. He makes me feel safe and no longer dirty and defiled. He is my amazing grace, he saved the wretch that was me.
I now know that I am not alone. Nor is anyone that is abused - there are more of us out there. Sadly the system still fails many of us. Lord, when I was a child there was no system. Even the kiddie shrink screwed up and let me down... nightmares! Duh! You think! I travelled and I am still travelling through the wilderness trying to put myself back together from my repressed memory! Those of us who are abused are the victims. We are not alone - there are many victims, too little salvation.
Well That Was Not Too Bad
For some time now I have eventually been coming to terms with the abuse I suffered as a child. I am morphing as a person. Going from the tomboy look into something entirely more feminine.
I am eradicating the old me. Eradicating it all. Getting shot of a lot of stuff and only keeping stuff given to me by my husband. All other gifts or bits 'n bobs from my parents or stuff I bought... all gone.
Part of this morph involved my brain wandering into the area of body art. I cannot have tattoos, cannot have my ears pierced. So what about naval piercing? Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmm? So enquiries were made. A lot of thinking into why do I want to do this? Who am I doing it for? Will my husband disapprove? I did not rush into this.
So when I had answered all the questions swirling in my brain, I spoke to my husband. What did he think? Would he not want me to go ahead with it?
'Why?' he asked.
Easy! I want to make me 'me' again, regain control, do something I want to do, have something done I want to have done. So today I bit the bullet and had my naval pierced. Did it hurt? Surprisingly not as much as I thought it was going to. Momentary pain as the hole was made and very mild discomfort as the bar was put in. I am elated. Ok, because of my health condition I am also sporting a gorgeous bruise and it is a little sore but I feel as though I have crossed a line.
I am Me! I can do the things I want! Blimey I did it. Alone. No husband. I let a man stick a sterile punture needle in me. I let a man put in the bar. I am sore, bruised and very proud of my achievement!!