The More I Know
Some days I think I've uncovered all the things I'm angry at my Mother about. Then I start to unpack another memory that feeds my false belief that I'm so profoundly toxic that it makes sense that everyone leaves me. I'm not worthy of real love because I'm terrible.
On days like that I wish she was still alive so I could rage at her. There is part of me that feels really angry that I don't get to really tell off any of these terrible people in my childhood. They're all dead.
The best revenge is living well, so they say. I guess that's why I do this ugly work of letting these memories out so that I can integrate them.
⚠️Content Warning: Child Sexual Abuse, Neglect, Emotional Abuse, Verbal Abuse.⚠️
⚠️Content Warning: Child Abuse⚠️
⚠️Content Warning: Child Abuse⚠️
⚠️Content Warning: Child Abuse⚠️
⚠️Content Warning: Child Abuse⚠️
Age Six Sherri believed it didn't matter what happened to her. She was that worthless; she believed her Mother who told her over and over that she ruined everything. Whenever things went wrong, it was always Sherri's fault somehow. She got into everything and didn't respect her Mother's personal property. She talked too much and was too nosey. She got what was coming to her.
Two sessions in with this memory and I know that I was sexually abused over a period of weeks, months. My Mother was alerted to it by a doctor, possibly even school. She totally denied it could be possible in any way and fabricated the notion that I wasn't fastidious about my hygiene. She regularly left me home alone at night to go on dates and I was home alone after school.
I was SIX.
I wish she was alive so I could rage at her.
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