Ste - the way I see it, as an abused kid, I never had the mental capacity to deal with what happened. I was dealing with growing up and all the associated hormonal changes / loosing the supportive family hierarchy that I had because we had moved town (very few cars in those days), and the discovery of a new 'friend' who seemed just like the uncles/grandparents that I couldn't contact on a daily basis.
I stopped crying at 12 - that's when I built a wall around my heart. It was nearly taken down again a couple of times, but I was let down again, so it stayed up until just a few years ago when I started fighting back.
It's never easy to fight back, but I think it's better than running away.
I'm still in the metamorphosis stage - don't know if I'll become the proverbial butterfly? What I do know, is that I detest injustice now, and believe that I have a pretty good understanding of what real injustice is - I think that is a good thing. I am also becoming better at verbalising it.
When I think of rain, I remember the night I told the police! It was a really bad night from a weather perspective - I'd been out drinking good beer but decided to go home after drinking enough (?). It was late, dark and absolutely ****ing down. I've given the story before, but the policeman pulled up in his patrol car, near the railway museum (newest in the UK & multiple award winning)...it was just being built then. Same as how the sites of abuse were along the old lines so many years ago. I still have the videos in my head.
I cried in my heart for so long, and no one ever guessed. I was always the strong one, the one that helped everyone else. I could never admit that, so how would anyone else have the chance to realise that. I was always the happy one (appearance). I was even given a clown's name at one point, because I was always laughing... that song maybe was right...the tears of a clown.
Sometimes I still hide behind that face, but I know that the last few years have taught me a lot. I know that whatever happens in the next few years (or however long I have, be that 1 year or 50) I will continue to learn.
Rain makes grass grow. It is not supposed to be good to let grass grow under your feet. If the rain of tears can make grass grow under my feet, then I will be happy - I would rather I helped something grow, than leave it dried out and in the dark.
Sometimes we don't know when others care or not. One of the memories that came back to me when I let the whole lot download, was one that really hurt.
I remember after I stopped the abuse (even though I didn't know that's what it was), one day I walked into the house feeling really sorry for myself. My Mother was in the kitchen cooking the tea (evening meal), I just shouted at her that 'nobody loved me, and nobody cared about me at all.' I still remember that look of absolute shock, horror and hurt on her face...it's about 37 years on now.
All my parents ever did was work to provide us with everything they could. It wasn't like it is now, where so much is easily available.
We ate really good food...clothes and toys weren't quite so good, but what is the most important?
Anyway Steve, I think I have started rambling on your post.
I think it's because I didn't tell then and it hurt for so long not telling. I've told so many years down the line, and it hasn't exactly been a magical experience, but it is one I would repeat every day for the rest of my life if it just saves one other person from this.
I hope that some kids/adults come here and get the strength to seek help as soon as they can, not to waste decades like so many here. I think the sooner it is sorted, the better.
Crying in the rain....without the elements, we are lost.
Best wishes and sleep well...Rik
