Thursday, August 19, 2010

How To Put A Name To This?

(This image found here.)

One of my earliest memories involves meeting my mother's older brother when I was about four years old. He was in his thirties, and for some unknown reason, he was very interested in me. Next to the dishwasher; by my grandmother's kitchen window on Kiowa Street. Warm sun rays streaming in the window. I remember the hair on the back of my neck standing up straight, and a tightening in the pit of my stomach.

A gut feeling; if you will.

Forty five years ago.

Several encounters in between.

Fragmented bits of recollection.

Flash forward to now. I am forty-nine. I drink too much. I can't shut my mind off at bedtime. I have closed off most of my wants and desires and my confidence is non-existent. I used to be able to bury this crap. I thought I was "dealing" with it. Getting over it. Moving on somehow. But this stuff keeps foaming to the surface.

It doesn't help that my father worked on the road. *Or that my mother felt that I must have done something to provoke illicit desires on her brother's part. I was just too irresistible. At four years of age. I know logically that is not possible, but in my child-heart; it's my fault.

To make matters worse, when we talk now of what I endured; my mother insists that I should have told of all the times he came into my room under the guise of a restroom break while they were all playing cards: the music up loud.

Selective memory on her part. I told her more than once.*

Then after several tries, I just gave up on the notion of anyone ever believing me. Or helping me. Why bother. I wasn't worth the effort, obviously.

I did tell her, but never my dad. I was too ashamed. I waited many years to tell her, because he had said that they would never believe me. That he would kill them or me--what ever suited his frigging mindset at the time. Totally textbook for a pedophile. I was too horrified to think otherwise.

Last winter, she called to inform me that he had passed away. Of liver cancer. Like I was supposed to feel some kind of something for the son-of-a-bitch. And her for her "loss." My thought was, "I'm supposed to feel what?"

What sucks is a part of me has guilt for feeling nothing of the passing of another human being. It goes against everything that I believe in. Liver cancer is a terrible way to die. I would normally feel awful for anyone suffering this sort of anguish. Not this time. I have a bit of trouble reconciling that with myself.

There was so much more between my first encounter with this bastard; and my last.

I know that forgiveness is freedom, but how do you reach that pinnacle?

I can't seem to quash the shame, the self-hatred.

Can I ever get over wondering of "What did I do to warrant this treatment?"

It still influences every day of my life!

How many bad choices have I made due to this history? Can I get a grip, and do better, instead of trying to numb the feeling of inadequacy?

I hope so. I'm not sure how a person sorts through something like this; but I must find a way.

If and when I do; I vow to help others who have been through similar situations.

I'd better get to work.


Lisa said...

Oh my god, V. No.
I am so sorry for your pain.
You were a child. Innocent. Without blame. Believe it.

kkryno said...

I believe that at times; but it clouds my every day life. I know I can fix this somehow.

I just have to navigate this instead of avoiding dealing with it instead.

There comes a point where I can't just let the bastard win.

Saoirse in Spokane said...

Know that I am ((((hugging)))) you now and want to keep the pain away. When we meet this bastard in limbo hell, where is hiding, because, hell probably doesn't want him either, we will kick his together!!

I wish I had the right things to say and knew how to vanish this ugliness from your memory. Lisa is right. Innocent, without blame.

Titanium said...

There is no law of nature that obligates you to forgive him. For any reason. You did NOTHING to deserve his abuse and the continued blame heaped on you by the very person who was tasked by ALL of nature's laws to protect, comfort, cherish and love you (your mom).

My heart is with you, all the way. Your healing will come on the wings of the small changes you choose every day.

Keep navigating. Keep breathing. Know this: you're not alone. I believe in you, in the journey you've embarked on and I know that you ARE winning.

Email me any time if you need or want to talk- or just rant. Sometimes, you just gotta let it out.

kkryno said...

Thanks, Ti.

Just writing that post made such a difference in my sleep last night.

I think the more I try to sort it out the better off I'll be.

I've let it consume too much of my life.

Star said...

first time commenting...I cried when i read this..I'm in my 60's and still trying to figure out what i did wrong.My pain will end when the s.o.b. is in the ground...hang in there..
Please remember you did nothing wrong,he was the sick one..mothers know what is mother was afraid ..((hugs)) coames

Tim said...

My heart breaks for the marvelous young Vikki who, despite this vile and selfish man, has grown into the vibrantly alive and giving Vikki I know and love.

If I'd known none of this, I would have put you on my most-amazing-women-I-know list anyway. But this just proves my point.

You are amazing.

Know that people everywhere love you in the sweetest, gentlest, and most healthy ways. Look to them when you're going through these valleys. Don't let one villain steal your joy or reduce its abundance in your life.

On behalf of healthy men everywhere, can I say we despise him, too? These are the guys who destroy our wives and mothers and sisters and friends and leave us to deal with their pain and fear for years afterward. If we as men had more courage, we'd speak up about this in very loud voices. Why we think we shouldn't encourage society to be more open about predators, I don't know. They ruin everyone's lives.

Don't feel bad about how little you feel for this man. It was he who killed your respect for him long ago. Love him as you forgive him--in an objective sense, just to get it done--and move ahead. There's a great deal of living left to do and way too much joy to come!

Much love,

kkryno said...


Thanks for your comment. I posted this after much thought, as I'm sure is apparent.

I thought that my pain should be cover when he died, but it just addde another layer to the recovery process.

I'm still trying to navigate the journey, but we all have to lift each other up.

I feel like this is the way to do something positive with this unthinkable circumstance.

kkryno said...

Lisa, Tim, Linda, Ti; just know that I love you like family.

We've been hangin' together long enough to say that! ;)

NameChanged said...


I am so sorry about this. I know that you have been struggling, but you have also been strong. You broke the cycle of blame with your daughters, because I never once remember you pushing any sort of blame onto me.

As for forgiveness, I think that it is quite clear who needs to be forgiven. YOU. You did nothing wrong. Even the "mistakes" you carry with you are not something you need to abuse yourself about. As much as you logically "know" that you are not to blame, there is still a part of you that unnecessarily carries guilt. Work on forgiving YOU, but do not feel guilty for being angry at those that wronged you.

I love you so much, and I want to give you one billion hugs!

kkryno said...

I love you, too Michele!

So much!

Q said...

Dear Vikki,
I cried when I read this post tonight. I cried for all the pain and suffering you have endured. I cried knowing you have cried and cried. I respect you so very much for sharing this pain. You are a courageous woman. Thank you for being so brave.
You have opened the door to healing. Some crimes against children are not ever okay...ever.
I am sending you lots and lots of hugs and butterfly kisses.