We meet again

Today I had a very emotional conversation with my mother. She had no idea I'd be as upset as I am about being "bumped" from my neice's and nephew's baptism this weekend so that the "highly respectable" relative who molested me could attend. It was a good exchange. I felt that my mother heard me. Not that this will make a lasting difference in my relationship with my family. It won't (though it is comforting to know my mother loves me). But because I understood something very clearly about myself.

My mother heard my POV and said it was no wonder that I was so hurt and angry. That gave me pause. Certainly it would make sense if I was hurt and angry. But that didn't quite describe it. I'm a writer, I try to be precise with my language. My feelings were big and uncomfortable and unacceptable. I was upset because this situation made me feel fragile and helpless. It made me feel vulnerable.

It made me feel like HER, my past self. She was isolated and defenseless. A victim.

I hated being her.

I have worked my adult life to become strong and self-sufficient. To reject being a victim. To leave her behind.

Today, she and I met again.

The teenage girl I was, the confused and repulsed and overwhelmed girl he fondled, still lives in me. Instead of denying her, I should recognize her, and reassure her that this will never, NEVER happen to her (to us) again.