I wasted so many years trying to find the answers and solutions to my life visiting with my abusers. Incest is a gift that way. The ones who hurt you are your friends – they’re family.
I wanted to love them and I wanted them to love me.
I didn’t want to walk away without connection between us. They are my family. I wanted to have Christmas dinner with them. I wanted to watch a turkey being carved around a table with them.
I wanted peace and restoration between us all.
It wasn’t going to happen. Every time I went I only discovered a wasteland there.
If I could share one thing that could be heard by all survivors of incest it would be this:
The cruelty of this tragedy is that we become a heroin in this misguided adventure. It somehow becomes our job to fix them! We have this notion that we are enough to heal the family.
Every time it just became a shit show. They mock you. They further abuse you by not offering support and they want to change your testimony. They will silence you if you stay too long.
I learned I didn’t need them. I learned that no love lived with them. I learned I could do it alone. Well, that is, with a great big God beside me.