I knew I shouldn't have gone to visit my mother this weekend... But I had made a deal with my aunt to help her with the laptop in return of her cancelling my debt with her. And she dropped me off at my mother's to spend the night there before taking the train home... It was a pretty civil affair with mum and I... compared to how it was growing up with her; when she'd throw me against walls, kick me, or even worse leave me or lock me in the closet. But she's doing something so much worse now. I'm a grown woman, and she's ruining my life still. This morning while we had breakfast she mentioned that she met one of the boys who sexually abused me, well he's a grown man now... he was 14 I think when I was 4. He must have been, she mentioned he's about 36 years old. She told me how happy he was to see her, and how he seemed to be doing well... I wanted to scream but I couldn't tell her to stop or how I really felt... so i tried to make a few polite comments. I don't care about his life. He's the son of one of my mother's best friends. His father is a really nice man and I've even invited him to my Birthday. I am starting to hope he can't come... It's bad enough to know that 'young man' has moved back to Denmark and even lives in a town between mum and I... and that he's even helped my mum with a few things. Last time I spoke to that boy was his 25th Birthday. We had dinner at his father's home while he was still living in Greenland and randomly I got handed the phone during the Happy Birthday call. We didn't say much, he asked how I was doing, I said good, and Happy Birthday... then I ran to the bathroom to throw up. I am so scared of meeting him. I am so scared I'll be visiting my mother and he's there helping her with something... or sh't. What if he comes to my Birthday?? I don't even know what I'll do then. And yes... my mother knows what he did. She caught him in the act... but she can't understand how I wouldn't be interested in getting updates about how well their lives are going... when I have a feeling even with therapy I'll never be whole. Later my mother decided to talk about the family of the young man who raped me when I was 13... luckily she didn't mention him... but she spoke about his foster mother's grave and wanting to go there to leave flowers... and how her 'real' daughter had called her recently by mistake... I still to this day think his mother knew... it happened in his bed room when I was supposed to sleep over at their house... I kept it a secret for 2 years (until I told my mum at 15 who blamed me and told me he was a sweet boy and would never do such a thing unprovoked). I was friends with the young man, despite him being 19, he was a bit retarded (but he knew what he did that night, he had planned for us to have sex and didn't care that I wasn't interested and kept saying no and tried to fight him off... and he had tried once before in a tent). He was difficult for people to manage but I seemed to have a soothing effect on him. His mother loved having me around because he dealt with stuff easier... Some weeks after it happened his mother called my mum and told her she could 'understand' if I was getting 'too old' to want to come and play with him... I wonder what made her make that decision. I tried so hard not to show any signs... that night when I asked her to drive me home I had carefully corrected my clothes and hair and I had an excuse for everything. I told her I had gotten homesick and wanted to sleep in my own bed. *sigh* I just feel like I can't make my mother understand... I lose my voice every time she brings that stuff up. I don't know if she thinks it's the stuff you just brush off. My mother doesn't really understand emotions I think... She has even bragged to some people in front of me of how strictly she raised me. (obviously leaving out the beatings) and I can still remember the horrified eyes looking at me as I tried to look unaffected. But damn it... Isn't it bad enough that my old mind randomly brings the subject up? Or when I get triggered... does she have to force it? There's plenty other people she can talk to about them... people who won't end up going home crying and screaming into a pillow. I'm surprised she didn't mention all the men who have grabbed and grobed me all through my life as well, the older boys in school who would come and find me, to see my boobs that developed too early and if no one was around would try to get a feel... being locked in rooms and forced to play "I'll show you mine if you show me yours. Oh you don't want to? Let me pull down your pants" when I was 7... Or what about the older boy who took me to a forest next to the school, stripped me naked and tied me up, touched me and left me there until someone found me hours later, when I was 6?? Oh no, wait. I didn't tell anyone about that... Because I knew no one would care anyway.