Yesterday I did one of the hardest things I ever had to do. I finally opened up to my parents about the sexual molestation I suffered at the hands of a coach and how badly it has affected me and how I wish that they had done more. They wish they had done more too (they found out a few years after it happened - when I was able to remember it - but when I was still a teenager and there was still a statue of limitations) they kept saying things like, "we let you down" and "we made you think it wasn't important" and "we should have showed you that we wanted to help" which is all true, but I am no longer angry at my parents. I know they don't think I am angry at them and they want to help, but it is literally 10 years since they found out about the abuse and 15 years since it actually all happened. Sometimes I want to believe that it is a false memory I have or that I am a pathological liar and I made it all up, but obviously that's not true. They should have definitely had more than a 5 minute conversation with me about it at the time, but there's nothing we can do about that any more either.
Then I told them that it wasn't the only incidence of sexual abuse, that I was in an abusive relationship with my ex-boyfriend (when I was 14) and that he raped me and beat me up also. The look on their faces was so painful to me and made me feel like I was a huge burden, a person that kept getting abused and causing all this turmoil and pain years later. I didn't even have the heart/courage to tell them that I got raped at 13 by a stranger. I feel like it would crush them and I had no more strength left to do so.
I thought opening up would make me feel better and make them understand more of why I am so depressed and suicidal but I think it has caused more confusion. I also feel very exposed, like I was standing in a room full of people on a stage naked, almost. That is what sharing the story feels like sometimes and I hate it. I hate it that I am constantly feeling guilt and shame and that I am causing my other family members to be worried and depressed. Sometimes I feel like I am the problem and it would be better if I was gone. I feel like since so much time has happened this should all go away. I am very tired of it all. It is so emotionally overwhelming that sometimes all I can do is cry and hope that even for a minute during the day I can get some relief from this.
Then I told them that it wasn't the only incidence of sexual abuse, that I was in an abusive relationship with my ex-boyfriend (when I was 14) and that he raped me and beat me up also. The look on their faces was so painful to me and made me feel like I was a huge burden, a person that kept getting abused and causing all this turmoil and pain years later. I didn't even have the heart/courage to tell them that I got raped at 13 by a stranger. I feel like it would crush them and I had no more strength left to do so.
I thought opening up would make me feel better and make them understand more of why I am so depressed and suicidal but I think it has caused more confusion. I also feel very exposed, like I was standing in a room full of people on a stage naked, almost. That is what sharing the story feels like sometimes and I hate it. I hate it that I am constantly feeling guilt and shame and that I am causing my other family members to be worried and depressed. Sometimes I feel like I am the problem and it would be better if I was gone. I feel like since so much time has happened this should all go away. I am very tired of it all. It is so emotionally overwhelming that sometimes all I can do is cry and hope that even for a minute during the day I can get some relief from this.
s* So proud of you for having that conversation.
