So you now have enough background for me to start writing about my journey. This is where I have most of my memories. So I may be able to give you ages and more than just a, well I was verbally abused, but I couldn’t tell you anything that was said. So get ready. It gets raw and real now. And remember, trying to take a burden I have already given over to God is folly. Just read and take away the lessons and understanding.
I was 26. We had been in Alaska for a few days to be at my youngest brothers wedding. (I loved Alaska)! We did touristy things while we were there because my parents wanted to do them. My sibs and I all wanted a more real life look of the area. Still my sister and I agreed to go RV’ing. We decided later, like around 11:20 pm with the sun still shining on the horizon, (Alaska friggin rocks), that we were too tired to get up so early.
Unfortunately the parents didn’t get the message for one reason or another. They got the non-refundable tickets. We missed the RV’ing. They were upset about spending eighty something dollars. I wondered why they hadn’t tried to find someone to sell the tickets too, but I guess it was too late.
Anyway, we get back to Colorado and I’m exhausted. Like slurry speech having trouble walking in anything but circles. I tend to get sleep drunk when I’m that tired. I went to church, came home and went to my room.
Next morning dad storms into my room, no knocking or anything, while I’m trying to pray, and starts in on me about the whole RV thing. Something about my sister apologizing and saying she would pay them back. And why didn’t I do that when I’m the older more responsible one blah blah blah.
Well I had planned on apologizing and offering to pay them. After I had slept. I hated dealing with my parents when I was tired. I always ended up saying or doing exactly the right thing to make the situation worse. Because, while I grew up in fear and silence, I do have a streak in me that refuses to lie down take it. And it would usually rear its head when I was tired because I didn’t have the energy to keep it restrained.
Well, it managed to rear up and say just the right thing that morning. I shouted out, “You’re just trying to make me feel bad.” It caught my dad off guard. He was honest. For about the second time in my life that I actually believed he was truly being honest to me. He confirmed what I had said. Flat out told me he wanted me to feel bad.
And that’s when it clicked. The last piece that challenged the denial I’d been in all this time. It was so clear. I was being abused. On purpose. I was being manipulated. On purpose. It wasn’t just how our family was. I was disillusioned now.
Of course, I still didn’t want to see it. Denial kept trying to cover it up so I didn’t have to look at all the horrible ugly things. I mean who really wants to come face to face with the fact they’re being abused?
But I’d been seeing counselors on and off since I was 24, and while they weren’t exactly what I needed, I guess they did something for me. Denial was unable to get its foothold back and things started becoming more and more clear to me. My world had started to crack. They way windshield glass splinters first.
I was 27. My fiance had left me for another lady. I was terrified my mind was going to lose it. I almost had a mental break. I had also just been excused from going on a mission, (I’m Mormon), which I interpreted as being unworthy to serve one. Those two blows had me on shaky ground.The splintery glass was starting to give way.
Then in a conversation with my dad about my aunt, I started to realize that I had been raped at 18. I had been living with my parents, again, for a year. I moved back up to Fort Collins where I had attended CSU before I met my now ex and moved to Utah to be with him. So I returned to the only place I had ever enjoyed living. And learned a friend of mine had died and I had missed my last opportunity to see him.
My world shattered.