From: anon-1218@twwells.com (Anika)
Newsgroups: alt.sexual.abuse.recovery
Subject: RELEASE!!!!!
Date: 13 Oct 92 19:12:23 GMT
Organization: Anonymous Posting Service at twwells.com
X-Email-Accepted: yes


*****Possible Spoilers - details of a weird dream*****






I did it I DID it I DID IT!!!!
I have been stuck trying to feel. Thinking I should feel. But not feeling. I
decided a week ago I wanted to write to my mother and tell her what I was
remembering. (I had realized my stepfather wasn't alone in his abuse and my
mother was as guilty.) But every time I tried to write, I got hung up on what
to say. No emotions were coming out. It was just facts. And I was getting
increasingly down about it. I was having nightmares every night. Just the
other night I woke myself up trying to scream "I've been in pain for more than
ten years!" at the image of my naked mother, who for some reason, was bleeding
from her belly button and eyes while trying to get close enough to hug me to
make me forget. Anyway, I thought it was rather ironic that those were the
words I had such difficulty uttering that I woke up. I was also trying to say
them out loud, which is pretty amazing too. I realized I wanted to say it. But
I still felt no anger. Now there was just revulsion. Then, last night, I was
driving and the first sentence popped into my mind. I went home and started
writing. And suddenly I was angry - BLISSFULLY ANGRY!!!! - and then I was
crying. Oh, I hated her, I was hurt....BUT IT FELT SO GOOD!!!! I was a lot
more in control than I expected to be. I kept expecting the emotions to run
away from me as the had in the past, but they didn't. It was WONDERFUL. And
I've written the letter, and I'm going to mail it just as soon as I'm done
writing it here. 
On the not-so-ecstatic level, I'm pretty aware that she'll probably either
ignore it, or send a normal letter and say she hopes I'm feeling better. Or,
worst case scenario, she was with my stepfather in his murderous activities,
and they'll both come and get me. But I don't care. I'm ALIVE!!!!
Ok. So here's the letter.



****Possible Spoiler. No gory details, but some emotional stuff***********



You know, mom, I wish you'd refrain from writing things like, "I even thought
you were angry for some cause I never suspected," because it makes me think
you are fully aware there *is* a cause for me to be angry, but you little
suspect that I know it. In fact, it could even make me think that some part of
you has been sitting on the edge of your seat waiting for me to realize and
get angry. *Actually*, it makes me suspect that not only are you aware and
waiting, but you've already laid out your defense. Why is it that I know
you'll plead ignorance in the face of my pain? Because you've always been too
cowardly to face the truth - even since your own childhood? Because you've
always been selfish - caring for your children only when convenient? Because
you're shrewd and manipulative and care nothing for those around you except
under pretense?
	I accepted many years ago that I was living in emotionally abusive
conditions. As a matter of fact, it took Beth [my sister] to make me aware
because I tried so fucking hard to believe you were my fairy tale mother and I
had some value in this world. I even denied how bad it was when I knew Cathy
and Beth had attempted suicide and every cell in my body screamed for me to do
it and get it over with. I've always forgiven you and made excuses, seeing you
as a troubled person instead of as the shitty mother you were, and not
realizing it was my right - MY RIGHT - to have a decent mother.
	I moved away and forgave you for that emotional abuse. But there are
some kinds of abuses that cannot be forgiven. I have been in pain - IN HELL -
for 13 - or shall we go all the way and say 18 - years. I have been living an
act for most of my life. I have denied myself the joy of emotions because the
only ones I felt or was taught to feel were pain, horror, anguish and disgust.
And despite that, I'm strong enough to face the past, to face the truth and to
free myself from this agony.
	I have memories of being very young. I was alone a lot - when I
wasn't, I had my wonderful sister at my side. This somehow turned into teenage
years or war and hatred where *she**tried**to**kill**me*. God in heaven, what
have you done? I never asked for that much. I wasn't an inordinately awful
child. Why couldn't you have just left us alone?
	These past few weeks have been a living hell for me as I recover more
and more memories. I go to sleep and have nightmares. I wake up and still feel
the horror and disgust. No, I'm not going to elaborate. I know perfectly well
you couldn't have blocked it all.
	And what hurts almost as much as the memories themselves is that
you've sat there all these years watching my pain and praying I wouldn't
recover.
	What kind of monster are you? You were given three beautiful children
and you made their lives hell until they were old enough to escape. I have
memories of you that shatter any image I ever created - any hope I ever had
for you. I don't know whether I want to kill you or forget you ever existed.
	And I look at your letter and see you asking, possibly for the first
time ever, what I do for fun. I don't know if you'll ever know anything more
about my life. If I hear a word of denial, reproach, confusion or defense,
I'll be enraged. I'm done with the lies and the denial. I want from you the
truth. I want to hear it from your side. I want to know why, I want to know
what you were thinking. I want you to fill in whatever peices may be missing
if you can pull them out of your alcolhol-glazed memory. If you're going to be
anything to me ever, you're going to help me out of the hell you put me in.



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