Showing posts with label support. Show all posts
Showing posts with label support. Show all posts
Sunday, February 14, 2010
A Family Bruised - Missing the Signs of Sexual Abuse
9:51 PM | 
Posted by
Mom Who Hurts
It was one of the last weeks before school started in August of 2009. The last few months had been full of adjustments but wonderful. I was able to focus more of my attention on the boys and enjoyed every moment of it. We had completed a wonderful two week road trip and life seemed to be looking up. We hugged each other at the top of Vail, got swept away in Yellowstone while fly fishing and had regular check-ins at the beaches in Aptos. What a summer!
This week started with Ron, whom I was separated from since February, down South with the boys for a regular doctor’s appointment. He put me on the spot, as parents can do, by calling to ask if he could leave Justin with my sister. I was reluctant. I don’t trust my sister to watch the kids and I didn’t trust my fifteen year old nephew. He is known among our family as a little liar. He is a typical spoiled doctor’s son who could do little wrong in his parents’ eyes, especially the last few years. Justin got on the phone and pleaded with me. I knew in his mind this was an exciting opportunity. This would be the first time he could stay away from home without the watchful eye of his older brother and not to mention the fact he idolized his cousin. I called my sister and explain that I was uncomfortable with Justin staying. She reassured me. I went a little further to elaborate. I didn’t want to offend her but Justin would do anything for her son Jerry and this made me uncomfortable. She promised she would talk to Jerry and keep an eye on Justin. I reminded her that Justin was only 9. She penetrated my defenses with reassuring words and to my surprise she was not offended. During these moments of uneasiness, sexual abuse never crossed my mind. It is difficult to explain but I just knew my sister’s son was harmful. It was as simple as that. I let Justin stay against my better judgment. I wonder what made me dismiss my inner voice? Why did I give in and put others' words above my own heart? Can anyone relate?
Justin was home two days later. He was rather clingy but he is a physical kid. He loves to snuggle. I dismissed it as normal. As he went to get into the shower that evening I noticed two substantial bruises on his rear, centered on both of his cheeks. It was alarming to me so I sat down and had one of those talks. The eye to eye talk that most parents should have but now I wonder if they do any good. Why did I sit down to ask the hard questions? Was it to reassure myself that I was doing a good job or really to get into my son’s head? I look back and doubt myself. I question every moment. This was not our first talk but it seemed scripted. I asked him if anyone had touched his privates and how he got the bruises. He had no answers or if he did they seem irrelevant now. Never once did I really believe something was happening but this is what parents do, right? I reassured him he was safe and he could tell me. He had nothing to say. He was locked up tight. I reminded him he could call a safe table. A safe table is something I started to let the kids know they could tell me anything at anytime without the fear of consequences. They could come up with whatever they thought was appropriate for discipline. I found more times than not I had to lighten whatever punishment they had chosen. I sat on my son’s bed feeling a little like an inadequate Superman trying to exercise my x-ray vision to look past the walls my son’s abuser had built. He said nothing. I knew there was something there but I could not reach it. How did I let him hide the awful truth from me? I should have known better. I should have seen it. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he was a victim of abuse. I hugged him, loved him and then I walked away. I left him bound in his fear. I gave up and gave up on him. As if that was not enough I continued to subject him to additional days of torment under his cousin’s hand. During our talk I felt so helpless but I didn’t feel afraid. That didn’t come until later when I found out the truth. I wish I could have a do over. But reality is now that I know what I know I would not limit my do overs to just one; I would need about a thousand to fix all that went so terribly wrong.
The end of the week was approaching quickly. My sister and her family came up to stay a few days. It was a great time of card games, laughter, heart to heart talks and the kids just being kids while enjoying each others company. Anyone who peered into our living room window would have been envious for a little bit of what we had. It was family at its finest. A real Norman Rockwell jumping off the canvas but the problem with imagery is that is all it is, an illusion, created by the eye of the beholder. We had created this scene and missed what was unfolding right under our noses. Were we just so comfortable appearing so happy or were we truly happy? I am not sure any more. The happiness I knew was all consumed by what happened next...
This week started with Ron, whom I was separated from since February, down South with the boys for a regular doctor’s appointment. He put me on the spot, as parents can do, by calling to ask if he could leave Justin with my sister. I was reluctant. I don’t trust my sister to watch the kids and I didn’t trust my fifteen year old nephew. He is known among our family as a little liar. He is a typical spoiled doctor’s son who could do little wrong in his parents’ eyes, especially the last few years. Justin got on the phone and pleaded with me. I knew in his mind this was an exciting opportunity. This would be the first time he could stay away from home without the watchful eye of his older brother and not to mention the fact he idolized his cousin. I called my sister and explain that I was uncomfortable with Justin staying. She reassured me. I went a little further to elaborate. I didn’t want to offend her but Justin would do anything for her son Jerry and this made me uncomfortable. She promised she would talk to Jerry and keep an eye on Justin. I reminded her that Justin was only 9. She penetrated my defenses with reassuring words and to my surprise she was not offended. During these moments of uneasiness, sexual abuse never crossed my mind. It is difficult to explain but I just knew my sister’s son was harmful. It was as simple as that. I let Justin stay against my better judgment. I wonder what made me dismiss my inner voice? Why did I give in and put others' words above my own heart? Can anyone relate?
Justin was home two days later. He was rather clingy but he is a physical kid. He loves to snuggle. I dismissed it as normal. As he went to get into the shower that evening I noticed two substantial bruises on his rear, centered on both of his cheeks. It was alarming to me so I sat down and had one of those talks. The eye to eye talk that most parents should have but now I wonder if they do any good. Why did I sit down to ask the hard questions? Was it to reassure myself that I was doing a good job or really to get into my son’s head? I look back and doubt myself. I question every moment. This was not our first talk but it seemed scripted. I asked him if anyone had touched his privates and how he got the bruises. He had no answers or if he did they seem irrelevant now. Never once did I really believe something was happening but this is what parents do, right? I reassured him he was safe and he could tell me. He had nothing to say. He was locked up tight. I reminded him he could call a safe table. A safe table is something I started to let the kids know they could tell me anything at anytime without the fear of consequences. They could come up with whatever they thought was appropriate for discipline. I found more times than not I had to lighten whatever punishment they had chosen. I sat on my son’s bed feeling a little like an inadequate Superman trying to exercise my x-ray vision to look past the walls my son’s abuser had built. He said nothing. I knew there was something there but I could not reach it. How did I let him hide the awful truth from me? I should have known better. I should have seen it. Never in my wildest dreams did I think he was a victim of abuse. I hugged him, loved him and then I walked away. I left him bound in his fear. I gave up and gave up on him. As if that was not enough I continued to subject him to additional days of torment under his cousin’s hand. During our talk I felt so helpless but I didn’t feel afraid. That didn’t come until later when I found out the truth. I wish I could have a do over. But reality is now that I know what I know I would not limit my do overs to just one; I would need about a thousand to fix all that went so terribly wrong.
The end of the week was approaching quickly. My sister and her family came up to stay a few days. It was a great time of card games, laughter, heart to heart talks and the kids just being kids while enjoying each others company. Anyone who peered into our living room window would have been envious for a little bit of what we had. It was family at its finest. A real Norman Rockwell jumping off the canvas but the problem with imagery is that is all it is, an illusion, created by the eye of the beholder. We had created this scene and missed what was unfolding right under our noses. Were we just so comfortable appearing so happy or were we truly happy? I am not sure any more. The happiness I knew was all consumed by what happened next...
Labels: abuse, parenting
child abuse,
family,
parenting,
relative,
sexual abuse,
son,
support
|
2
comments
Friday, February 12, 2010
Hello - A Little Back Ground
I am a mom whose son was molested by his older cousin. I sometimes feel so totally alone in my pain and inquiry. Statistics tell me there are a lot of parents out there like me and I thought I would start this blog in an attempt to reach them. At this moment it feels a little like my words are floating out into a dark hole and there is no way that anyone can ever hear them, yet here I am giving it a shot. This blog is to share my story, share support and realize I am not alone in this pain. My goal is to write weekly about the different stages I have gone through from the moment I found out. This is not a whine session but a step-by-step account of how I put one foot in front of the other when I wanted to forfeit this game we call life.
I will begin with a little history. I grew up in a Catholic home with four brothers and one sister. We are all very close. I was raised to be a good wife and take care of the kids. I always wanted ten children but happily ended up with two: Jack, 12, and Justin, 9. Two is perfect; I have two arms, one for each son. I am Christian with a strong faith but I dislike religion. I am not really sure how I ended up sitting here at this computer writing about my son’s abuse because I thought it could never happen to me. I had the talks. We spoke of sex. I didn’t let my boys stay the night at anyone’s homes. I was very careful. I guess all of that doesn’t matter. It happened. Am I to blame? Did I miss the signs? To know me you would never guess this secret I hold. You would never guess it happened to him and because it happened to him this is happening to me.
I have been married for twenty years to a man who was never capable of love. He is so hidden inside himself that it is a miracle that we had any children at all. I finally kicked him out in February 2009. It was wonderful! He had been disconnected emotionally from the three of us for all these years. I was on a path of repair. I sought counseling, started back to school and my life was moving up. Six months later it happened…
I will begin with a little history. I grew up in a Catholic home with four brothers and one sister. We are all very close. I was raised to be a good wife and take care of the kids. I always wanted ten children but happily ended up with two: Jack, 12, and Justin, 9. Two is perfect; I have two arms, one for each son. I am Christian with a strong faith but I dislike religion. I am not really sure how I ended up sitting here at this computer writing about my son’s abuse because I thought it could never happen to me. I had the talks. We spoke of sex. I didn’t let my boys stay the night at anyone’s homes. I was very careful. I guess all of that doesn’t matter. It happened. Am I to blame? Did I miss the signs? To know me you would never guess this secret I hold. You would never guess it happened to him and because it happened to him this is happening to me.
I have been married for twenty years to a man who was never capable of love. He is so hidden inside himself that it is a miracle that we had any children at all. I finally kicked him out in February 2009. It was wonderful! He had been disconnected emotionally from the three of us for all these years. I was on a path of repair. I sought counseling, started back to school and my life was moving up. Six months later it happened…
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
About Me
- Mom Who Hurts
- I am an average mom who loves her kids. I never thought it could happen to us but it did. My son was abused. Words to live by: Nobody can go back and start a new beginning, but anyone can start today and make a new ending.
Subscribe To
Posts
All Comments
![[Valid Atom 1.0]](valid-atom.png "Validate my Atom 1.0 feed")