This weekend I finally managed something that I’ve been working on for months, or rather years. A short explanation: A relative of mine constantly crossed my personal boundaries when I was little, be it with looks, words or physical contact. Without any violence, just because he loved me oh so much, which is what made it so hard for me to see that it was wrong because it traumatized me. My therapist went as far as calling it abuse, I prefer saying he crossed boundaries because emotive words are a difficult thing.
Well and this weekend I finally gave him a letter in which I told him about some memories I have. Not in the style of pointing a finger at him, just an “I remember this and that, it wasn’t good for me. I feel bad when I think about it and I can’t breathe. I want that to be different in the future, let’s have a fresh start.”
The reaction (that I wasn’t told in person – his wife who had to suffer a lot in the past, obviously sided with him): You have broken our family, those are all lies that come from your sick phantasy. Ungrateful child, you destroyed everything, who do you think you are?!…and so on.
And it does so little to me. I know it’s good that I uttered those things. I know that perceptions can vary but some of my memories let little room for interpretation. And even if – I just wanted to say what it felt like for me. I didn’t want to accuse anyone, I didn’t want to ruin anyone’s reputation. For a long time I have protected my surroundings and now that I say how I feel, I am a monster? NO! I stand by every word I wrote, the fact that nobody wanted to speak to me face to face probably says enough. And I’m sure that things will calm down eventually, like they always do. Maybe we’ll have a reasonable conversation one day, one that doesn’t need a culprit but looks for perspectives (whatever they may look like). But I won’t fall over again.
At this point I want to thank my mum and my partner – you carried me through this weekend!