Trigger warning: Abuse, sexual violence, violence.
Writing this was very difficult and took me months, it also makes me
feel really vulnerable to share it, but I will, part of finding me is
being honest with myself. The following words are part of that process.
If you read this be warned that is might be uncomfortable for you and
you should not do so unless you feel strong enough to read, these sadly
true words. Thank you if you do.
Nepoleon was taller than me!
This is a strange statement, but he really was taller than me although if I stood on my toes I am almost as tall as Joan of Arc and I’m almost 2cms (rounding up of course) taller than Marie Curie. Moving on: having moved from Canada to the city of my birth for my undergraduate degree, it has been somewhat difficult with the first semester being about having certain goals. To make a friend and basically to see if I could learn here, that was the plan. I could go back after four weeks; four weeks was actually the limit to how much I agreed to. There is good news, now I’m in my second semester, so I made it! There were other people who struggled with this move to university and happily, one of them is now my friend. She moved from a different country; having learnt Catalan she also was having a difficult time being here. It is with some relief that she is also in her second semester and that my fears, reflected in her, reminded me they were at least natural and perhaps grown up. It is also nice to have her around when I switch automatically to French. We are the linguistically confused ladies of physics! There are not that many other girls or ladies of physics around these parts but there are some and I have made more friends, although not a handsome Irish boy who likes poetry that I can kiss (I might delete that later).
In order to concentrate on my first semester Mommy and me agreed, with the exception of counselling with a new person, that I would just focus on the goals above. Moving away from the other things that made my life enjoyable, sometimes frustrating and even made me angry has meant that I have kind of missed doing things. Such things as painting, reading, playing the violin and… I thought that the list would be longer. At Christmas talking to mommy, it seems right to bring those things back, do not get me wrong, learning physics takes most of my energy and it feels like it takes most of my time just to keep up, still the other things are important to me as well. I did read a book on Egyptian Gods during the first semester; it was short and less comprehensive than other books I’ve read on the subject. It was a welcome distraction that was needed at the time. I have started violin lessons again to which I say are strictly private and I do not play for anyone but myself. I have started a painting and reading Les Misérables, which I found a quote that feels right to share. For context, I feel at home in many different places, but it felt right to at least acknowledge that I miss the places that I am not in, even if it is a little silly.
“As long as you are busy bustling about in your native land, you imagine that you couldn’t care less about these streets, that these windows, these roofs, these doors, are nothing to you, that these walls are foreign to you, that these trees are any old trees, that these houses that you never enter are useless to you, that these cobblestones you are walking on are just stones. Later, when you are no longer there, you realize that those streets are dear to you, that you miss those roofs, those windows, and those doors, that those walls are necessary to you, that those trees are beloved trees, that those houses you never entered you entered every day, and that you left your blood and guts and your heart on those cobblestones.” - Victor Hugo
Victor Hugo was talking about the way France had changed during his lifetime rather than moving to a different place in the world, however it does seem to resonate with me. I have more than one ‘native land’ and I get to go back to them, knowing when I leave this place, I will strangely miss it even more than before. Travelling back to places reduces the feeling of losing things for me and fills me with delight. I have to say living with my maternal grandmother also known as Mama for so long has been lovely and she is helping me with a great deal of things. Such as spelling in a language that I have spoken all my life just not written a lot in, it being amplified by the joys of being dyslexic and helping me with the evilness of stairs. I’m happy to report that only once have I fallen down them, only hurting my arm for a couple of weeks. She is a lot softer with me than she is with most people but that is because I am her favourite and of course, adorable. She was not warm and comforting with her own children, but she seems to have changed from being that way. She still hates fascists, as do I!
I have been perhaps too focused on not being grown up enough, which is a bit like not liking myself and having anxiety about doing things that I do not consider to be grown up enough despite those things helping me and being part of me. Without thinking, on one of Mama’s and my evening walks in which we gather vital intelligence information also known as gossip, I took Henry with me. Henry is a teddy pig not a real one, I would like a real pig, but his name would be Snuggles. I forgot to think whether it was grown up or not, it was just I wanted to hold him for some reason, so I did. Someone did make a comment and Mama quickly ensured they regretted making any comment whatsoever, they will not make that mistake again. Part of me simply does not care but another part of me really does care about being perceived as an adult. Being disabled for almost all of my life has resulted in me not being able to do certain things or needing help with them, at school I always wore a dress because if I lent over then no one would be able to tell that I was wearing a nappy. Most people knew after a while but once someone called me a baby, so I bit them. I do not get some things, and other things I will always need help with, even though I would like to be more grown up or perhaps it is time to start biting people again.
This kind of brings us to the next part and perhaps the more important piece however, you might not like it.
With the help of the lovely counsellor that I have here, we have been discussing trauma or PTSD and how it affects me. That does not just come from the abuse but also from the hospital, the physiotherapy and its impact on me now. From being very ill when I was three years old it resolved itself to the never-ending challenge of never feeling grown up enough, the brain damage has given me gifts like synaesthesia, it also means I am shorter than I would have been and an ongoing battle to control my bladder. The shadows of this past can result in my waking up unable to breathe through sheer panic and to some degree the issues that I have with food. Some of the food issues do come from the abuse, don’t get me wrong, some of it comes through the irrational fear of things getting stuck in my throat and getting ill. Part of the problem is in my head the question ‘Is this safe to eat’, this thought spans both the illness and abuse. Swallowing was something I remember having to relearn and it does manifest itself in strange ways. This new way of understanding perhaps because my counsellor is using the gestalt method, is about finding why in this moment these things are causing distress. Being aware of them and how they fit together, for me this is a great way of understanding things even if it is somewhat terrifying. The end hope is that I can be in control, which is the same as being powerful inside myself.
On the 16th of January 2017 I told my bestest friend what was going on, she knew some time before, but she was not completely sure, not certain enough to make that claim that I was being abused. What she did made me angry at her, at Mommy and with other people as well. It was the right thing to do even though it took me a long time to understand and with this understanding, I’m grateful people allowed me to be angry with them. There is no better measure of kindness and compassion, than allowing those you love to be angry at you, I am lucky those people were part of my life. Now as an adult I am not ready to have sex all these years later, neither was I ready back then but I wish that I could have experienced sex on equal terms with a person that I love, and that love being returned alike and in kind with us both wanting to explore sex and being excited in doing so. What happened when I was younger, a child, was not sex though even now it is difficult for me to really know that. It was about lies, hiding, causing physical pain and only doing what the other wanted, it was rape in all its degrees. Not just that but rather more, it was acts of violence, threats of violence, it was the fear of the consequences if it were to be ‘found out’. Daddy, my daddy, inflicted all of this and the degradation of our relationship and my relationships with others. He caused nightmares, anxiety and real fear even in the mundane events that I went through which most people embrace with ease. It hurt me physically, and emotionally and it bruised my soul. But that was not the worst part, the betrayal was.
The first part of this betrayal was that Daddy decided to do this to me, someone who did not understand what was even going on, he took away my voice to express my worries and concerns and my right to seek comfort. The acts that were performed not only lasted on those days but years after they took place. He also took away his right to be part of my life. While, for a long time I wanted him to be part of my life, going so far as to really miss him deeply, there might never be any form of reconciliation. Despite not feeling grown up, I have in many ways and achieved more things than I thought that I could. Look at me studying physics as an undergraduate having earned my place. New friends, new members of the family (my God Sister) and with relationships not only fixed but made better and stronger. Although I am still often filled with anxiety, it has lessened a great deal, the same thing with nightmares, and flashbacks and my confidence is growing (despite not always feeling like it has done so). If I can stand up in front of 20 people and talk, it must mean that things inside me have really changed and not only due to speech therapy but to confidence. The biggest change is I like myself more now and that should never be so understated because it is so important. A few months ago, in my notes on this, it was written ‘I held sadness that he has missed out on so much’, it would be a lie to say I feel the same way now. While I’m still allowed to be angry, he should find himself deeply saddened he decided not to be part of my life and find despair that I will not let him be.
To the second part of his betrayal: Daddy was my full-time carer for so long and he violated Mommy’s trust, now I am starting to understand by how much. As the years have gone by, I have started to see how much and the extent of the damage. Mommy places guilt on herself, even me reasoning with her has not changed that, she feels she wants that guilt. That very thought is starting to make me cry, she is willing to hold that guilt out of love, I know it is not being held by anger. She has the right to be angry and to a degree she is for the discarded manner Daddy used me while he was meant to be my protector teacher and someone, I could explore the world with. For me to dismiss this man, who is my father, is easy because there is so much around that it outweighs anything he could have given me even if he decided to regret it after the abuse and loss. Moving on, there are so many people that could have been listed here that he betrayed, my brother and sister, our grandparents, even those who I’ve met afterwards and helped me with those things of abuse that so often felt like in some degree, felt to still be happening. I am so grateful to have all those people, words simply cannot express my feelings. I will need them all as there are times it feels like I’m back there in the past.
I am not saying all things are fixed, come thee, all things are whole, that would be kind of silly. Things are better, sometimes they go forwards at other times they go backwards, but still they move. If I or anyone can keep moving, it must tell us that we are still fighting for ourselves, and I hope everyone has at least someone who will help them in that fight. I would write more but I think I would rather leave you with some words from ‘Veronika Decides to Die’ as a positive challenge to us both:
"Everything tells me that I am about to make a wrong decision, but making mistakes is just part of life. What does the world want of me? Does it want me to take no risks, to go back where I came from because I didn’t have the courage to say, ‘yes’ to life?" - Paulo Coelho
It's a reminder that taking risks and embracing new experiences are essential parts of personal growth (growing up), even in our darkest times, even at our worst times. If you have never read the book, you should it is beautiful and after you do and cannot find that quote in it, try not to be mad. It is not in there rather it’s from ‘Eleven Minutes’ but read Veronika’s story instead, it is worth it. It has taken me months to write this, a lot of thought and changing my mind but here it is, the best that I can do, and I hope it explains things if only to myself. With my love,
Ame
Post-Script: A stern look as a warning and a bite as a lesson.
other day at the orphanage where I work, it's beautiful, a symbol of God's love for us and hope 
