New Life; no life

"Sexual abuse plants the seeds of inferiority." Oprah hit the nail on the head when she and Tyler Perry discussed the result of sexual abuse on her show today (November 12, 2010). 

The guilt doesn't stop when the children grow-up, especially if they cannot talk about it. They are often accused of making it up.

I know because I am 52 years old and I am still live with the result of being molested. My brother (not the molester) treats me as if I am worthless.  And he goes to New Life Church.  I guess he would call himself a Christian. His behavior has affected how I think of Christians, how I feel about Christians.  My friends remind me that not all Christians are like my brother. It's something I have to keep reminding myself.  

Tyler Perry slit his wrist when he was 11 years old because of  the pain of being sexually abused.  Men (and women) who have been abused often feel like they cannot go on because they feel like there is no safety in the world.  "I almost feel like I was murdered," said a member of the audience.   (I felt as if I was ) "only good for being abused; it made me hate me" said Ray, another audience member. It kills the person that it happened to; it kills the soul of the child that was sexually abused.

Although the show was about men who had been sexually abuse,  Oprah spoke as a survivor of sexual abuse. She said that when someone has been sexual abused, they feel that they are "less than" and they feel that they are "worth-less".  People who have been abused feel different; they feel guilty that it happened to them; they feel guilty that they didn't stop it.

I thought that since my brother lived in a nicer house than I did, lived in a better part of town and made more money than I did, that he was worth more than I was. That his life, his views and his feelings were more important than mine.

I was wrong.

Oprah said that when you have been sexually abused, it "changes the way you think about yourself. You think you are worthless, so you act in a worthless behavior." 81% of the 200 men that were in her audience had considered suicide; 33% of them had attempted it.

No more. The only way to go on is to talk about what happened, to mourn the loss of  safety, of innocence and of a childhood. The only way past it, is to realize that it happened to me, but it is not my fault; it is not my secret.

No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

My mother always said "No good deed goes unpunished".  And she was right.

I go out of my way to help. Some people, instead of being grateful, believe they can treat me like a doormat.  I helped my family.  I took care of our mother for over 18 years while my siblings went on with their lives. Maybe they thought that I had nothing else to do or maybe they thought what they were doing was so much more important. After all, there are no awards for taking care of your Mom and the pay was lousy.

I guess they didn't realize that because I took care of our mother, they were able to go on with their lives. They didn't have to deal with it. At Christmas, they would all gather at our mother's house for a couple of hours, eat a lavish dinner, open presents and leave. Sometimes it felt like they were there so they could cross it off their lists--they had done their duty.

But Mom didn't care. She loved having her family around. As for me, I wanted to cancel Christmas. It was so much work;  shopping, cleaning, putting up and decorating the tree. I guess I still feel that way.

I would end up tired, exhausted, stressed out and not in the Christmas spirit.  I don't think they realized how much work it all was.  After all, they were busy with their own lives and their own families.

I wish they could ask themselves what would their life be like if I hadn't be around to take care of Mom? If they had to step in to help?  Would they have to take time off work to take Mom to her doctor appointments? Would they come over on their day off to clean and do the grocery shopping? Would they have to pay someone to take care of Mom?

No good deed goes unpunished? Maybe so, but I did this for Mom, not my siblings. I  loved spending time with my Mom. I also would have been grateful for any help that my sister and brothers could give.

Now that she's dead, their lives have gone on much the same as before.  Except for one thing. They have discovered what they think is Mom's value. The jokes on them. Mom's true value is not the size of her estate, but the size of her heart.

Tyler, Oprah and Me

Tyler Perry is a strong, brave and courageous man who is my beacon in the night sky. He is showing me, by example, what actions I need to take in order to become the person I want to be. The person I was meant to be.

I was flipping channels on late night TV when I came across Tyler Perry being interviewed by Oprah.  Tyler Perry was crying. And Oprah was crying.  Soon I was crying along with them.

Tyler Perry told Oprah he was molested while he was growing up.  It happened a number of times over a number of years by a number of people.  Tyler wondered how child molesters kept finding him? What was it about him?


My brother sexually molested me while I was growing up. I admired him. He was the golden boy. I was fat, shy, and always scared. 


Tyler said he felt guilty and responsible. Boys don't get molested. Or if they do, they don't talk about it. Tyler said that sometimes it felt good. It was confusing. He used to wonder if was his fault. Not any more.

I idolized my brother. Every week before the game, I would scrape the dried mud from his cleats, spread black polish on his shoe and buff it to a shine. I wanted him to like me. When he touch me, I felt so scared. I was in a hole and I felt like I was sinking deeper and deeper. There was no ladder--no way to get out.  All I could do was to stand still and hope that the hole would not collapse with me in it. 


Tyler Perry is talking about what happened to him. He is no longer the victim. It is no longer his secret. He knows that he didn't do anything wrong.

Tyler said he has forgiven his father, but he does not trust him. I cried as I watched him on TV. I still am crying. He is standing up for himself and doesn't need to protect his abusers; he tells his truth. Did his abusers protect him? Did my abusers protect me? 

Memories...What's to painful to remember

That's the problem with secrets, they often don't stay secrets.

Something happened to me when I was a child. I thought it was my fault because I didn't stop him.  He was someone I loved, admired and cared about. I wanted his attention.
But not this way.

Here's the problem with secrets. They don't stay secrets forever.

I was an adult when I first told my Mother.  We cried together. But then, as the realization set in, my mother felt guilty. She asked herself "Why didn't I see what was happening? How could I have missed the signs?" As time went by, she tried to come to terms with my secret which was now her secret.  She struggled to understand how her child could do that. She often wrote about him in her journal. She was as confused by her feelings as I was. She loved him and she hated him; she blamed herself; she couldn't understand how anyone could do that, let alone her child. What could she have done to stop him from doing that horrible thing.

The secret continued.  Out of respect for my Mother, I didn't talk about my secret. I did not want to add to her pain and guilt.

Life went on. It would be so much easier if someone was all good or all bad. But we aren't. The person  who did this has some good qualities.

After my mother died, I met with a hospice councilor. She wondered why I was so afraid of my siblings? Why didn't I stand up to them?

I told her my secret. After talking to her and thinking about what she said, I realized that as long as I kept my secret, I would continue to feel like I did something wrong.

I have told my secret to some people. My mother's close friends cried with me. My friends were angry that he did this to me.

My siblings continue to treat me as if I were a door mat. But I now know that I am an intelligent, capable, woman. I am caring. I don't need to brag to the outside world about what I do. I try to do what is right, honest and fair.

I have a new secret. I do good things for people and I don't let anyone know. And this is a secret I will keep.

What's Love Got To Do With It

Family. What's love got to do with it?

Very little. I must be a slow learner and I am learning it the hard way.  Family. I somehow thought if I loved them, helped them, was honest and did the right thing, we would be a family.

I have learned that family is more of a scientific term that means we share some of the same DNA. Not love.

My mother loved all of us. But my Mom and I "got" each other. It didn't happen overnight. There was a lot of blood, sweat and tears. But over time, she became my best friend. I think I may be the luckiest person alive. Why did it happened with us, but not my siblings? Or maybe it did, but in a totally different way.  Maybe they loved her but didn't like her.

Wouldn't it be nice to know how other people felt before we love them? I guess that's not the way love works. After all, love is always a one way trip. If we truly love someone, it's not conditional that they love use back. Love isn't like a little kid who only wants to give something if he knows he's going to get something back.

But does loving someone now mean that I will love them the rest of my life? Are there times when love is not enough?   Why would I want to  keep loving someone who hurts me over and over? I have to remember that I must love myself first before I can truly love someone else. And if I love myself, then I wouldn't be in a relationship with someone who hurts me.

What's love got to do with it? It's nothing. And everything.

Zumba!

I like watching the exercise infomercials on TV.

I  wish watching people exercise would work as well as exercising does. They both take the same amount of time. Of course it is harder to eat Ben and Jerry's Cherry Garcia while you are jumping up and down. Why do they have all the infomercials at 2am. Is it because at 2 am, we believe that anything is possible?

Have you ever just watch the belly buttons of people exercising? Not the whole person, just their belly buttons. It reminds me of watching a lazer light show at the Natural History Museum's planetarium with Pink Floyd playing. Hypnotic.

Belly buttons are so unique. Innies, outins, ones that smile, ones that wink. The winkers are my personal favorite. Why winkers? I'm glad you asked.

Got to go eat the rest of the Ben and Jerrys.