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.
Not so!
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.