There is Always HOPE! Right?!

There is Always Hope © Jack Hollow Photography

 

My heart is aching right now… I am just trying to hold on to hope. The hope that this little girl will catch her heart…and the hope that mine will mend.

 

I feel so lost in this world. I lack understanding of why some things have happened and why some things don’t happen.

Why do some people think they have the right to hurt others? Do they think they’re better or more worthy than others?!

 

I didn’t remember the abuse for six years…not a single bit of it. The professionals say this was a coping mechanism. That my mind wanted to make sure I was safe enough before devulging this important information to me. Sounds kind of weird…and sometimes I feel this information should have been made available to me sooner…but at the same time I wish I’d never found out.

When I was in my early to mid years at school, we started to have “sex education” classes. I would come out of those classes and not remember a single word spoken by the teacher. I didn’t know why this was, but things like this happened a lot in my childhood (and now) – losing time. Later I found out this was called Dissociating.

I spent a lot of my childhood taking care of my younger brother. Not because my parents were not capable (they were and are great parents), but because there were things that even they couldn’t protect us from. I wasn’t always physically protecting him, but sometimes mentally and emotionally too. Our eldest brother used to be physically & emotionally abusive towards another brother (there are 4 brothers). At times I had to hide in cupboards or run to a neighbours house with my younger brother.

Sometimes I question why I never told anyone about the sexual abuse while it was happening. I guess the physical threat of my younger brother’s life would have been enough of a reason, but I think there were other reasons also.
Mostly I think my reasons were about protection – of myself & family. I was threatened with a knife by my abuser…he cut me on the hip and threatened to “do it to him too“. I knew he didn’t mean the knife, but rather the other things he had done to me. I had almost died when he held me under the water…while he laughed. I didn’t want my baby brother to die or to experience what I had.

Two years ago, my younger brother wrote me a letter. In it he wrote “you have looked after me for years, now it’s my turn to look after you”. I never knew he even realised how much I had actually done to look after him. I love my brother so much.

I’ve come so far.
And there’s my hope…