I M Perfect lady

Self diagnosed as "Abused"...back in December 2004…wasn't the real kingpin that flipped my world upside down, but the fact that it had been denied.  

I have to read the definition of denied. 

"State that one refuses to admit the truth or existence of "They deny any responsibility for the tragedy"."

 

Being sexually abused is the root or starting point where my mental illness began.  

However, it was the mistreatment I received, AFTER being abused, where my mental illness was formed.  

You can't just blame the sexual act that my father subjected me to, you have to also consider how this event was handled.

How was I treated?  

What changed in my childhood home, after I was mistreated? 

Or maybe more importantly, "How was my father treated?"  

Was he treated like a pedophile, and I a victim of abuse?

Who orchestrated the treatment after the abuse?

Who had the power of this step, after the abuse?

I believe as my mother and his wife… my mother carried a huge responsibility in the trajectory of our lives. 

The way in which she responded, set in motion my wellness or my illness.

She determined my path by either facing the truth or denying it.

I also looked up the word denial.  

"The action of declaring something to be untrue."

The actions my mother made was to bless away his sins, declaring them untrue.

What was once there, was now wiped clean.

His sins were forgiven.

His truth changed.

This left me with nowhere to go with my abuse; for IT no longer existed.

What made my mental health worse is that my mind failed to record my abuse.  I was left with a body in terror and a mind that is blank and a home that returned to normal like no abuse had ever occurred.

A few days after declaring myself Abused, I found a Beanie Baby Ostrich and knew it represented my mother; her head in the sand.

Her refusal to treat my father like a pedophile; cast me into the sea of mental illness.

The void of pretending all was well with thee…when all had tragically changed.

A father was no longer safe.

And a mother who didn't see the monster I lived with.

In order to survive; I had to pretend to pretend this wasn't the truth of our home.

I felt so free in December when I could declare my truth….I am just like my niece. I am abused.  And, my body matches this truth. My terrors are not make-belief.  My night terrors have a source.  My lack of feeling warm and fuzzy towards my parents has a reason…I felt normal for the first time in my life; when I knew I had a pedophile for a father and an ostrich for a mother…I made sense.

My mental illness was denial.

When I no longer denied my truth I was recovering my mental health.