Submitted by Amanda F
I don't know how to trust people. Hell even saying that much makes my chest tighten. My muscles in my shoulders, arms, legs; my entire body tightens. My stomach churns and snarls. I want to be able to just say #metoo and leave it at that, but silence doesn't make the trauma disappear.
I told my mother I was molested. My mother who is supposed to protect me. My mother who is supposed to love me. My mother who I should be able to trust and confide in. My mother who shouldn't be the poison in my life. She called me a liar. She called me dramatic. She used those same breathes to tell me not to tell anyone else my lies. Afterall, it would ruin the family.
I spent so much time not talking because I was a liar. Was I a liar? I spent so much time not talking because I was being dramatic. Was I dramatic? I spent so much time not talking to protect the very delicate image of my mother and her perfect little family where nothing wrong or nasty or perverse or terrible ever happened. I wish I could live with that fantasy family.
I was being gaslighted. It took me 20 years to figure that out; 7 year olds don't understand those kinds of words. Especially lying, dramatic, family ruiners. I stopped talking to people because I couldn't trust them. I didnt know how to make friends because I didnt trust their kindness, their loyalty, their compassion. I knew these things to be fake; I saw my mother fake them my whole life when we went outside the house.
I'm slowly starting to heal, mostly by talking about it. I'm starting to trust people and build relationships. This didn't happen over night. This happened over time. Afterall, once your in hell the only way out is through. It may not be easy, but every day that I try it gets easier and easier. I just keep trying and now look at me, here, writting this to you.
You should tell someone, they should believe you, and if they don't, find someone who will. You are not being dramatic. You are not going to ruin your family. You are NOT a liar.
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