May We Dance Upon Their Graves

Incest Survivors, Spirituality and Ceremonies of Justice – the story of a woman living a rich, fulfilling life while waiting to dance on her sociopath father's grave.

Wierd News

<–Warning – first sentence may be triggering —?

Photocredit: St Stev

Photocredit: St Stev - Note: This pic is of no-one mentioned in the story.

When I was a teenager I remembered being sexually molested, touched under my panties, by a babysitter. I found out today, that the person I thought might be this babysitter has died. He’d died homeless, due to complications of severe alcoholism and cancer. I hadn’t known he’d been a drunk. He alone of all his relatives inherited his dad’s alcoholism. His dad, now dead, was a drinking buddy of my father’s and his brother is still a friend of my brother.

Was this boy a victim of my father? My mom claims I had no male babysitters, but I don’t trust her not to lie or misremember things she doesn’t want to think about.

Several years ago, I was visiting his mother, with my mother, in a nearby town. My mother stayed to visit longer and this guy gave me a ride home, a trip of almost three hours. During the trip we said little to one another.  I checked in with myself as I sat in the passenger seat, and realized I felt no fear. At that point I doubted he’d ever abused me, for how could I be around him without body fear or triggers if he had?

Now I don’t know either way. I feel nothing about him at this point. I do remember the incident vaguely, but not enough details to verify who.

I’m more pleased that my older brother called. I’d called him on his birthday, but he’d been out of town, so was calling me back. It was nice, we actually had a real conversation. Okay, he still didn’t ask me anything about my life or follow up any conversation topic I initiated, but as long as I was willing to play the listening game with him, it was quite pleasant. I hang out with so few guys now, but I vaguely remember that this is a man thing, to talk on an on about oneself or things he thinks will be interesting, but not sharing the conversational floor by asking questions or expressing interest in topics you introduce.

Anyhow, he seemed genuinely happy to talk to me and I was relaxed talking to him back, so the content doesn’t really matter at this point.

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This entry was posted on September 1, 2009 by in Sexual Abuse and tagged , .

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