After they separated, she continued to bring him up even though I asked her not to – even though it was very obvious that this was triggering me from me crying and having mini-breakdowns. She even did this right after my niece was born, leaving me to drive an hour home with the icky thoughts of being sexually assaulted instead of the wonders of the sweet baby I just held in my hands.
Recently I’ve shared some more about my mother from my personal facebook page only to get backlash from people who should be supportive.
I was really taken back by some of it. It’s the classic BS on ‘but she’s your mother’ and ‘it’s not healthy for you to be angry’ and such.
Part of why it was shocking was that no one has been anything but supportive up until now – a year and a half later.
I guess I thought I was passed that, that I had been lucky enough to not have assholes try to act like they have any idea of what my upbringing was like – or how it continues to affect me.
My mother is, essentially, a female version of Donald Trump. She’s racist, sexist, and a rude bigot. JK Rowling would probably not like her.
“But she’s your mother!”
And? That magically is supposed to erase everything?
The above is what you’re supposed to do if your child tells you they’ve been abused sexually.
Guess what did not happen for me?
Growing up, we were told she would kill anyone who hurt us, not try to make babies with them.
Not only did she continue to sleep with a married man after finding out that he was married (to someone chronically ill which was his reasoning for cheating & she agreed with it), but she continued to sleep with him even after he sexually assaulted me and I had told her.
That night, they had sex next to me in a king sized hotel bed where all three of us were “sleeping.” I wasn’t asleep, but apparently that wasn’t obvious? When she was asleep, he attacked me.
She defended her decision to not believe me for a long time because the bruises had gone and she saw no evidence, despite him always making sexually explicit jokes to her 13-year-old daughter. I was forced to spend time with him even though she promised I wouldn’t have to – until one point where Kelsey witnessed him attempting to assault me again. Even then, Michelle stayed in a relationship and continued having sex with this man – leaving us and taking a week of vacation here or there to travel with him on a whim, while we were in incredible pain from medical and dental issues that were never addressed. She even defended him because apparently he got to sleep with the young girls who would’ve been about my age back in India before they got married, and guess what age I was?
Sometimes that assault creeps back into my head – when I’m sleeping, at work, being intimate with my husband.
THAT is unforgivable in and of itself.
And yet, it’s not the only – or even, sadly – most major issue.
She beat my sister, day in and day out, for years. If she forgot, her mother was there to pick up the slack. At the very least, they emotionally abused her – and still continue to do so frankly.
She refused to get dental, medical, and emotional help for my sister and me, despite us having illnesses that could easily kill us.
The anger I have? It keeps me safe. It reminds me of all the above, and how I deal with a large amount of it.
It reminds me of the things she did to us and didn’t do for us.
It reminds me that we deserved better, to treat myself better NOW.
It reminds me that I’m safe, something so integral to someone living with post-traumatic stress disorder like myself (SIDE NOTE: want to know what it’s like to be triggered?).
But, I mean, hey…
If you’re a proponent of parents assisting those who sexually assault their children in getting away scot-free, then defend my mother.
If you love child abuse and all the hurt it continues to cause until the day that child dies and after that even for families, then defend my mother.
And by all means, if you would enjoy paying for my sister and my dental and doctor bills or estimates (now in the $100,000s to get ‘fixed’), then defend my mother and send me a check.
If you think I made a shitty ass decision, knowing that you know basically nothing about how I was raised?
Keep it to your damn self.