It's hard living without my family, without roots, especially when holidays roll around.
It's
so hard to come to terms with the truth of what my family wants. It is
unspoken, yet the deadly message is communicated so clearly. They
don't allow me into their lives. My reality is not real to them. My
history is not shared by them. I do not exist to them, as I know
myself to exist. My pain is not real to them. Neither are my
memories.
If
I were dead, they would have the last word in this world. Obviously, I
was disturbed. Unstable. An anomaly. Not like the rest of the family.
They
ask me questions that they don't want to know the answers to. Why are you
the only one who remembers this? Why didn't we see anything? Why
didn't you tell anyone? Why did your story change? It is unlikely that they ever will be able to consider all of the possible answers to
their rhetorical questions. What I must do in order to survive
and live my life, is precisely what they must avoid in
order survive and live theirs.
I believed that I had to kill myself to
protect my family. A part of me believed that If I was a good loyal
daughter, granddaughter, and sister, I would sacrifice my life for
the family. For the kavod of my grandfather. For Hashem and
the Torah. I prefer to live, but there was, and still is, no
way for me to live without letting light shine on this dark dank
moldy secret. The more that they try to keep the incest in the dark
unremembered parts of our collective past, the more light I need to
shine in order to see the truth of what is really there.
I
realize that I had no choice but to choose between myself and my
family. Every day that I live, I choose again. Every day that I choose to
live and to exist without my family is painful. At times the grief
can feel as raw as twenty years ago. Every day that I choose life I
lose them again and I cry. I always want them back. I miss my older
sisters the most. At the same time, I understand so well their need
to deny. I am one of them and I grew up thinking just as they do. At times, I join them in the familiar
comfort of denial to calm the painful empty longing, and feel a part
of them again. "Nothing happened to me. Incest could not have possibly
happened in our family. In other families, yes, of course, but not
ours. I am bad, insane, or at best mistaken. My family is right
to excommunicate me. I am the family shame. If they get rid of
me the family will be fine. They must love me from a distance
lest I destroy them."
I
hope that someday they will be able to accept my need for truth. I hope
some day they will accept my choice to live and to heal. As painful
as it is to them. As hurtful as it is to our family history and
kavod. I live. I speak. I shine a brilliant light.
It glitters and hurts the eyes and the heart. It cries for what
I needed to be and never was. I needed a family that could hear
my pain.
Hi Genendy,
ReplyDeleteI really connected to your latest post. I’m sorry it’s so awful…I think that I get how cut off you must feel- I’m in a similar boat. What struck me was your ending. I’m so glad that you too have a wonderful family now , I guess I just feel greedy- rightfully, in a normal scenario both would be there- the relationships –both old and new…and the fact that there is a real functional life now can’t make up for the other part that has to be cut off… Near where I live there is a park with a huge oak tree inside it. The tree had been hit by a storm many years ago and there is only half a trunk still left, the tree still flowers and lives on every year, I get such inspiration seeing it, it’s always symbolised to me that no matter that a very significant part of my life has been denied, decimated, amputated, it is still possible to flourish…
All the best
Genendy, after my marriage I essentially cut ties with my family. Why? Not physical abuse but because truth was not concrete. It could change based on the day, the mood, the situation. Torah is supposed to be solid and absolute. I couldn't, as a child, teen and young adult, discern truth from lies. So I left and have not been back. When my children ask about my family, I prefer not to answer. It is not easy. My children happily have never met any of my family members. The community at large sided with my family in the breach.
ReplyDeleteWhen we were in school, I always knew you were sad and had something eating at you but could not have imagined the truth. I looked at you as strong and talented (who else could juggle as well?) and you clearly still are.
With love,
An old friend