Endless Waves: A Story of Grace

"How can something from so long ago still have such an effect on me? How can it be possible that the way I look at people and events today is based on what happened more than fifty years ago? This is such scary stuff to talk or write about. It's very frightening. She has done a lot of things over the years to make the pain go away. Physical pain does help the inner anguish to lessen, briefly maybe, but it helps. As a child she would sit in church, positive that everyone knew how bad she was to have done all those unspeakable sexual acts. If she could have acted right, people might have had a better opinion of her, but I was rough. I got into fistfights in the church hall waiting for catechism to begin. I asked too many controversial questions in Sunday school, and refused to join the church at sixteen when everyone else my age did. As a bad girl, I didn't fit the mold. She never knew who she was or where she fit in. She felt like she wasn't anyone, not a person at all. It was a long time before she realized the truth. Who could she tell? She was afraid of one brother who could be very cruel. A lot of conflict was in the house, but sometimes when she was outside, she put herself in dangerous situations, too. There was no safe place and life was dangerous, but it was all a secret. I stuffed all my feelings and spent more time in my imaginary red brick building. Reinforced daily were the thoughts that I was nothing, no one, and was on my own to live or not live. Even though I had not heard much about suicide, it became an option which I considered more and more frequently. Even though humiliation and shame filled her all the time, her not being able to show or express it, warped her spirit. Forced to do all that was expected, while being open and jovial, twisted her very soul, making any relationship with God or others impossible. She often had to separate - somebody did what had to be done, but I stayed in the brick building where it was safe. She must have become a non-person because later it didn't matter what was done to her, which actually made it easier for her to get through the day. When all the abuse happened to her, it's as if she died inside. When she was dead, how could she have any feelings? Why would anything matter to her anymore? To be dead is not to feel or care. What would she do if she went back there and actually felt all the feelings she should have? What would happen to her?"