Children don’t have the luxury of allowing their terror to rein and that is life altering.
When an adult is raped, they have recourse — most of the time they tell, they receive counseling, and sympathy. The perps might not receive full justice but an adult has many options to let their terror loose.
A child has none of that. As a matter of fact, the child is further destroyed by the very act of denying the terror that lives inside of them.
My counselor of many years told me often to go out and scream. Not a form of crying. Not depression. Not over drinking. Not grief.
S C R E A M ! ! ! He would tell me.
It’s like that mechanism in me was broken. It had been manipulated to the point of destruction by my father and my mother. Terror lurked behind every action I had but it was never allowed release.
A podcast is telling the story of the murdered woman. I am told it is slated to be released on July 25. That caused my father to show up in my dreams last night. He’s been dead for many years now but the terror he breathed into my soul lingers. He was furious that I had exposed him. Raging he managed to create some mythical spitballs of fire that he ferociously blew onto me and the police. We all ran for cover as his fiery balls dropped around us.
I yelled at him, “I win, Dad. I win!”
The anguish he left behind in me has taken a lifetime to extinguish. And, I won’t give in to him. Not today. Not ever.