'Awful Normal' - An independent Film
Awful Normal - An Independent Film
(Update: Contact Celesta Davis Personally Here)
This is about slaying Dragons...
...and yes a lot of families *are* ‘Awful Normal’...
This (above) is the title of a movie/documentary from a brave woman by the name of Celesta Davis. Last night when I was flipping through ‘crap’ on TV, I came across Prime Time Live…I don’t watch a lot of this stuff – I consider this type of TV show to use ‘hard core’ journalism as entertainment/shock factor approach/sensationalistic…I don’t like that type of ‘reporting’….but this subject and this story stopped me dead in my tracks.
Why? Because it’s *my* story as well.
Celesta Davis was molested by a very close family friend. She decided to make a film about how that impacted and formed her life. The molestation was one of her earliest memories. Can you imagine your earliest childhood memory being that of having been made to perform oral sex on a man old enough to be your father *by* a close family friend. Think about that for a moment...think about that for a very long moment. Wrap your mind around that.
It would seem this week on Colette’s Grave it’s all about making people squirm a little.
Yes it’s *MY* story too. I was molested by my uncle at the age of 5 years old. I was not made to perform oral sex on him (or at least the memories my subconscious allows me to have do not detail anything quite so heinous). I was made to sit on his lap while he fondled me and stuck his fingers up inside of me. I was 5 years old (perhaps younger when it started) – he’d tell me to hush while he did it – I did not know what he was doing or why nor did I know it was ‘wrong’...I did not say anything to anyone at the time because, (as Ms. Davis so brilliantly points out), what 5-year old has the vocabulary for that type of thing? Well at least most 5-year olds didn’t back then...I am not sure what he did continued much past a few incidents – but again there’s that pesky unconscious mind to tend with.
It came out in me in other ways. I never wanted to go to gatherings over at ‘that’ side of the families’ houses. He’d find me. I’d bite my nails to the quick. I had stomach aches. I was (for a 5 year old), a nervous wreck. I was afraid of everyone – I was painfully shy. But somehow I went on – I pushed the ‘things’ that were happening to me down inside where I could not ‘feel’ them any more – I made them go away. I was a weird child – I did not have many friends – today I reason that that was because children, like animals, can sense when another amongst them is ‘sick’ or ‘tainted’ I was teased – tortured actually by other kids. I did not make any decent friends until I was almost 12 years old.
We moved away from Pennsylvania when I was 14. My mother died when I was 15. I went on to have boyfriends and become sexually active. I was abused a lot by the guys I was with. I felt too that I *had* to be with them. I kept having bad relationships.
Time marched on – I was with Tommie, I had my daughter – that ended in disaster. Then, I got married to my son’s dad. Shortly after we got married I had a dreams/flashbacks to those ‘episodes’ with my uncle. At the time I panicked. Why was I remembering this stuff now? I wondered….what the hell was I suppose to do with this info. I was 25 years old, I was finally with a ‘decent’ guy WTF??? I told my husband that I was falling apart. I told him I felt I was ‘damaged goods’ and he was free to divorce me. He of course did no such thing but he didn’t offer any advice (not that it was his job to do so) –I felt lost. I did have one friend who was wonderful to me at that time and she turned me onto John Bradshaw. I used Mr. Bradshaw’s techniques for healing without ever doing the ‘leg-work’ – it seemed to help me hang on for a while and soon I found myself pregnant. Everything changed. I became more an island. I nurtured myself and the growing life within me I ignored everything and everyone else including my daughter and my husband. I know now that was wrong back then it seemed like I was in survival mode. We ended up moving from Houston to Cleveland because I was adamant that I wanted my kids raised near family (how ironic) and besides both of our parents were getting older and we both wanted our kids to get to know their grandparents. We moved to Cleveland, we eventually bought a house. That’s when it began happening. I began having nightmares, I began waking up screaming in the middle of the night. I knew I had to go into counseling. I wanted to kill myself and I knew what was at the root of all of it...it was the recovered memory(ies). I told my husband I needed help and I could not let him touch me (he is Sicilian and reminded me of my uncle that did this to me) – I told him we needed help as a couple. He refused to go with me to counseling. He said in his family they did not ‘talk’ about such things (an aside: this is one of the biggest problems with society’s handling of these issues and why they still go on – I call it the ‘conspiracy of silence’ and it’s destroying families, folks, as Ms. Davis’ film shows – a lot of families simply ‘ignore’ this stuff –they hope it will go away – it doesn’t). I sought out a counselor on my own. I went in and began to talk – I knew I had to talk about this I knew I had to get help because every morning I could not get out of bed, I wanted to die, I wanted to kill myself and I knew I could not do that to my then 3-year old son – I knew I had to take care of him but I could not hardly bring myself to get out of bed to do so...I knew I had to do something or I was going to die. *THAT’S* how scared and paralyzed I was. The counselor did not help much – either she was not adept at handling cases of repressed memory or she just was a crappy therapist. She handed me tissues while I cried. I paid her $85/half-hour to do so. I became convinced I needed to confront my uncle. I told my counselor this – she counseled me against (most will by the way). She said I’d be possibly set back (yeah OK I could not understand how much worse off I could get then wanting to die inside every day) and that he’d most likely deny it (most of them do). I was insistent. I was doing this. I began talking to my family – slowly I had to know if the same thing happened to my own sister – she said no. I told my brothers. I did not tell my dad I was afraid of how he’d react – this was his sister’s husband and I am not sure he liked him much to begin with. I talked with one of my very close male friends at the time – he told me he felt I needed to do this too. I told my pseudo mom (who in my mother’s death had become one hell of a friend to me) – she was to champion my cause and she offered to go with me. I felt numb but driven – it made no sense. I called my aunt in PA I told her I was planning on coming down for a visit could I stop and see her and my uncle. She was thrilled. A couple of weekends later with this wonderful woman by my side I went to my uncle’s house (my husband had no input in this at all – in fact he’d probably would have rather I buried it and forgotten about it – I couldn’t).
My aunt let us in – seeing my friend, I could tell she was kind of confused. We all sat down. We exchanged the niceties. Then I said:
“Aunt J – I lied to you – I am not here on a ‘visit’ I am here to talk to Uncle C – and ask him about some things.”
She looked rather quizzical and said:
“What is it honey?”
I said:
“Uncle C – I’ve been remembering ‘things’ from my childhood – and I’ve remembered things you’ve done to me and I want you to explain to me why you did them.”
My aunt got a really horrified look on her face (who wouldn’t):
“What sort of ‘things’, C- ????”
“Aunt J – with all due respect I want Uncle C - to answer me”
My aunt said something to my uncle – he got a blank look on his face – my aunt then said to me:
“You are going to have to say it very loud - your uncle is going deaf”
It was perhaps a this moment I had a sense of futility and questioned what I was doing but I knew if I left without resolving this I’d not do well and to me it was a matter of *MY* life or death. So this ‘moment’ passed, quickly….
I actually shouted:
‘Uncle C – I want to know if you remember touching me when I was a little girl – I want to know why you did what you did”
My aunt then intervened – she said “C – I don’t know what you are remembering – you must have just dreamed this up or imagined it. Uncle J - would have never done that to you honey” she had a panicked look on her face
This time it was my mom’s friend who said to my aunt:
“Please m’am let him answer her”
He sat there – I looked at him and he looked at me – he knew, and he knew that I knew and he did not flinch and he didn’t look away. He said.
“Yes C – I remember holding you and touching you – I am sorry, I never meant to hurt you”
I looked at this man – this man that I loved – this man that loved me but in a very sick way – this man that destroyed me and this man that was allowing me to rise up from the ashes of that destruction by validating what happened. I yelled:
“How could you do that to a child??? How could you??? You had a wife – you are supposed to do things like that with your wife NOT with children – you knew better than that! How many of my other cousins did you do this to???? How dare you!!!!!” I was shaking I was beginning to cry.
He said: “I am sorry I did not mean to hurt you. I am sorry”
My aunt looked like I had driven a knife into her heart – I probably had.
(A bit of a history about my aunt which I did not know at the time I did this – when she first got married to my uncle she had been found to have breast cancer – back then they did radical mastectomies on women no matter what – no breast reconstruction – so she must have seemed disfigured to him – also they were unable to have children – not that this guy had any business being around children but that also much have impacted their marriage.)
I had nothing else to say. My aunt was struggling with what had just transpired and she was looking ill. I got up – I actually thanked them for listening to me. My aunt walked us to the door – before I left I turned to hug her – I was crying and she was crying – she begged me not to tell my dad (and again this is how these things remain secrets in families) – I wanted to talk to everyone I knew about this – especially my other girl cousins - her own sister’s kids – and by the way these cousins have to this day never married, they still live at home, they have never really had ‘boyfriends’ and one of them is gay (no I am not saying that that’s the reason why – but I don’t know my other two girl cousins from this particular family spent almost every weekend at this uncle’s house and I am telling you that in my heart and mind I KNOW he did things to them too). I promised her I would not tell my dad – she later extracted promises from me not to tell my other aunts (her sisters) as well. I felt so guilty for having laid this at my aunt’s feet (she was after all my favourite aunt). (My dad went to his grave not knowing...)
I floated down the stairs to my car leaving my aunt’s house. I knew I would never have to go back to that house again. I felt a great weight had been lifted from me – I also felt a bit like I really *should* talk to my cousins – not that I needed validation – but that I did not want this to go unnoticed in this family. I knew I’d never let my children meet this man and I did not think he should be around other children I was absolutely freaked out about the idea of him doing this (or worse) to anyone else. I suppose thoughts like 'vigilante' and 'retribution' started entering my mind...
My friend held my hand – she asked me if I was OK – we stopped for lunch and I was still numb, still upset, still scarred but somehow I saw light at the end of the tunnel – somehow I knew *I’d* be OK now…
The next evening I got a call from my aunt. My husband took the call – after getting home I began crying a lot so he knew I was still pretty fragile – he asked me if I wanted to talk to her. I agreed. I got on the phone:
“Hi C – “ she said – testing...
“Hello Aunt J – “
“Are you OK?”
“Not really”
“Uncle C wants to talk to you, is that OK?”
I drew in a sharp breath – I felt the anger, the pain the fear again – Jesus would this ever end? I hesitated…barely audible:
“Yeah OK…”
He got on the line – for someone who had never been a big talker this must have been really tough on him”
“C ? Is that you? “ I answered that it was...
“Will you forgive me?”
A wave of shock kind of took over...forgive him??? Already??? I had just told this bastard what he had done to me – it took me years to even get up the nerve – forgive him???? What audacity!
“Uncle C – it’s just too soon – I just can’t right now and I don’t know if I ever will – can you understand that?”
My aunt (who was listening on the phone) said she understood – again she asked me not to tell my dad – again I promised I wouldn’t.
I was afraid for my daughter – a lot – I would talk to her about telling me if anyone ever touched her in a ‘bad’ way or in places where they shouldn’t be touching her – I still worry about children getting molested.
Time passed – my marriage failed – yes in part it was due to what I had become and what we had not become together to face this crisis and our lack of being able to connect. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t my fault – it’s just what was. (Since that time we’ve grown close and I think he knows how much I was hurting back then).
My life went on. I met and fell in love with my current ex (and that relationship was doomed too – but I feel more from him not being a ‘whole’ person than me not being a 'whole' person - but obviously I was still attracted to the 'wrong' type of guy for me...)
My sister was going to get re-married – I told her I could not attend if he was going to be there. They were not invited.
My dad finally passed away. My uncle’s secret remained safe. I called my aunt. I told her that he was not welcome at my dad’s funeral. She came with her two sisters – they too did not bring their husbands. My dad’s brother’s had either passed before him or were too sick to attend. My one aunt kept giving me the ‘evil eye’ I am sure she knew what was going on – I am sure her sister told her – I wanted to go over and ask her what her problem was – I wanted to ask her if her own daughters had been tainted by this – but I already felt I knew the answer and quite frankly I didn’t care what she thought of me.
Damage is a funny thing in human terms. There’s a Billy Joel song called ‘Pressure’ and there’s a line ‘You have no scars on your face…’ - well there are scars on my soul, there are scars on my psyche, there are scars on my heart from this – I *am* damaged. I will probably always have trust issues.
Forgiveness is also a funny thing – I came to realize that by holding onto all this anger it kept me a prisoner of what he had done – I had to let go. Eventually I did. Eventually my aunt and I became close again – she began dealing with colon cancer – I kept in constant touch with her. There was a function to go to in honor of my other aunt’s (the one who was giving me the evil eye) 50th wedding anniversary – my new husband and I were invited – we went. I actually hugged him – I wasn’t afraid. When my other uncle died we went to his funeral – I was able to be in the same room with him then although I don’t think we hugged.
Finally, my aunt J- passed away. I was not sure altogether about going but I did go to her funeral – I went to pay respects to her I was not going for him – although I felt his loss. He came to me – my brother was next to me – I tensed as he went to hug me – but I hugged him back. I cried for the loss of my aunt.
I have not spoken to him or seen him since. When he passes away I will not attend his funeral – in my soul (to this day) - I pray he is not allowed near little children any more but I don’t know how much damage he’s been able to cause other than what he did to me.
I’ve cried a lot about this over the years. I come to realize he robbed me of my innocence in many ways he robbed me of being a care-free little girl. I don’t’ hate him anymore. I don’t even blame him anymore. I am not sure I’ve completely forgiven him but I know I’ve been able to let go. I have, to a great extent, slayed the dragon that kept me hostage for so long. I am free of it – not of all the damage it’s caused – but I am able to function – I’ve been able to go on and love others – I am even starting to feel eventually I will completely trust someone again – as long as it’s the ‘right’ relationship. In other words we all have baggage – it’s up to you how you want to carry it and up to you to not force others to have to deal with things that aren’t their fault. I don’t lug a lodestone around with me anymore. It’s more like a pebble in my shoe...
(Update: Contact Celesta Davis Personally Here)
This is about slaying Dragons...
...and yes a lot of families *are* ‘Awful Normal’...
This (above) is the title of a movie/documentary from a brave woman by the name of Celesta Davis. Last night when I was flipping through ‘crap’ on TV, I came across Prime Time Live…I don’t watch a lot of this stuff – I consider this type of TV show to use ‘hard core’ journalism as entertainment/shock factor approach/sensationalistic…I don’t like that type of ‘reporting’….but this subject and this story stopped me dead in my tracks.
Why? Because it’s *my* story as well.
Celesta Davis was molested by a very close family friend. She decided to make a film about how that impacted and formed her life. The molestation was one of her earliest memories. Can you imagine your earliest childhood memory being that of having been made to perform oral sex on a man old enough to be your father *by* a close family friend. Think about that for a moment...think about that for a very long moment. Wrap your mind around that.
It would seem this week on Colette’s Grave it’s all about making people squirm a little.
Yes it’s *MY* story too. I was molested by my uncle at the age of 5 years old. I was not made to perform oral sex on him (or at least the memories my subconscious allows me to have do not detail anything quite so heinous). I was made to sit on his lap while he fondled me and stuck his fingers up inside of me. I was 5 years old (perhaps younger when it started) – he’d tell me to hush while he did it – I did not know what he was doing or why nor did I know it was ‘wrong’...I did not say anything to anyone at the time because, (as Ms. Davis so brilliantly points out), what 5-year old has the vocabulary for that type of thing? Well at least most 5-year olds didn’t back then...I am not sure what he did continued much past a few incidents – but again there’s that pesky unconscious mind to tend with.
It came out in me in other ways. I never wanted to go to gatherings over at ‘that’ side of the families’ houses. He’d find me. I’d bite my nails to the quick. I had stomach aches. I was (for a 5 year old), a nervous wreck. I was afraid of everyone – I was painfully shy. But somehow I went on – I pushed the ‘things’ that were happening to me down inside where I could not ‘feel’ them any more – I made them go away. I was a weird child – I did not have many friends – today I reason that that was because children, like animals, can sense when another amongst them is ‘sick’ or ‘tainted’ I was teased – tortured actually by other kids. I did not make any decent friends until I was almost 12 years old.
We moved away from Pennsylvania when I was 14. My mother died when I was 15. I went on to have boyfriends and become sexually active. I was abused a lot by the guys I was with. I felt too that I *had* to be with them. I kept having bad relationships.
Time marched on – I was with Tommie, I had my daughter – that ended in disaster. Then, I got married to my son’s dad. Shortly after we got married I had a dreams/flashbacks to those ‘episodes’ with my uncle. At the time I panicked. Why was I remembering this stuff now? I wondered….what the hell was I suppose to do with this info. I was 25 years old, I was finally with a ‘decent’ guy WTF??? I told my husband that I was falling apart. I told him I felt I was ‘damaged goods’ and he was free to divorce me. He of course did no such thing but he didn’t offer any advice (not that it was his job to do so) –I felt lost. I did have one friend who was wonderful to me at that time and she turned me onto John Bradshaw. I used Mr. Bradshaw’s techniques for healing without ever doing the ‘leg-work’ – it seemed to help me hang on for a while and soon I found myself pregnant. Everything changed. I became more an island. I nurtured myself and the growing life within me I ignored everything and everyone else including my daughter and my husband. I know now that was wrong back then it seemed like I was in survival mode. We ended up moving from Houston to Cleveland because I was adamant that I wanted my kids raised near family (how ironic) and besides both of our parents were getting older and we both wanted our kids to get to know their grandparents. We moved to Cleveland, we eventually bought a house. That’s when it began happening. I began having nightmares, I began waking up screaming in the middle of the night. I knew I had to go into counseling. I wanted to kill myself and I knew what was at the root of all of it...it was the recovered memory(ies). I told my husband I needed help and I could not let him touch me (he is Sicilian and reminded me of my uncle that did this to me) – I told him we needed help as a couple. He refused to go with me to counseling. He said in his family they did not ‘talk’ about such things (an aside: this is one of the biggest problems with society’s handling of these issues and why they still go on – I call it the ‘conspiracy of silence’ and it’s destroying families, folks, as Ms. Davis’ film shows – a lot of families simply ‘ignore’ this stuff –they hope it will go away – it doesn’t). I sought out a counselor on my own. I went in and began to talk – I knew I had to talk about this I knew I had to get help because every morning I could not get out of bed, I wanted to die, I wanted to kill myself and I knew I could not do that to my then 3-year old son – I knew I had to take care of him but I could not hardly bring myself to get out of bed to do so...I knew I had to do something or I was going to die. *THAT’S* how scared and paralyzed I was. The counselor did not help much – either she was not adept at handling cases of repressed memory or she just was a crappy therapist. She handed me tissues while I cried. I paid her $85/half-hour to do so. I became convinced I needed to confront my uncle. I told my counselor this – she counseled me against (most will by the way). She said I’d be possibly set back (yeah OK I could not understand how much worse off I could get then wanting to die inside every day) and that he’d most likely deny it (most of them do). I was insistent. I was doing this. I began talking to my family – slowly I had to know if the same thing happened to my own sister – she said no. I told my brothers. I did not tell my dad I was afraid of how he’d react – this was his sister’s husband and I am not sure he liked him much to begin with. I talked with one of my very close male friends at the time – he told me he felt I needed to do this too. I told my pseudo mom (who in my mother’s death had become one hell of a friend to me) – she was to champion my cause and she offered to go with me. I felt numb but driven – it made no sense. I called my aunt in PA I told her I was planning on coming down for a visit could I stop and see her and my uncle. She was thrilled. A couple of weekends later with this wonderful woman by my side I went to my uncle’s house (my husband had no input in this at all – in fact he’d probably would have rather I buried it and forgotten about it – I couldn’t).
My aunt let us in – seeing my friend, I could tell she was kind of confused. We all sat down. We exchanged the niceties. Then I said:
“Aunt J – I lied to you – I am not here on a ‘visit’ I am here to talk to Uncle C – and ask him about some things.”
She looked rather quizzical and said:
“What is it honey?”
I said:
“Uncle C – I’ve been remembering ‘things’ from my childhood – and I’ve remembered things you’ve done to me and I want you to explain to me why you did them.”
My aunt got a really horrified look on her face (who wouldn’t):
“What sort of ‘things’, C- ????”
“Aunt J – with all due respect I want Uncle C - to answer me”
My aunt said something to my uncle – he got a blank look on his face – my aunt then said to me:
“You are going to have to say it very loud - your uncle is going deaf”
It was perhaps a this moment I had a sense of futility and questioned what I was doing but I knew if I left without resolving this I’d not do well and to me it was a matter of *MY* life or death. So this ‘moment’ passed, quickly….
I actually shouted:
‘Uncle C – I want to know if you remember touching me when I was a little girl – I want to know why you did what you did”
My aunt then intervened – she said “C – I don’t know what you are remembering – you must have just dreamed this up or imagined it. Uncle J - would have never done that to you honey” she had a panicked look on her face
This time it was my mom’s friend who said to my aunt:
“Please m’am let him answer her”
He sat there – I looked at him and he looked at me – he knew, and he knew that I knew and he did not flinch and he didn’t look away. He said.
“Yes C – I remember holding you and touching you – I am sorry, I never meant to hurt you”
I looked at this man – this man that I loved – this man that loved me but in a very sick way – this man that destroyed me and this man that was allowing me to rise up from the ashes of that destruction by validating what happened. I yelled:
“How could you do that to a child??? How could you??? You had a wife – you are supposed to do things like that with your wife NOT with children – you knew better than that! How many of my other cousins did you do this to???? How dare you!!!!!” I was shaking I was beginning to cry.
He said: “I am sorry I did not mean to hurt you. I am sorry”
My aunt looked like I had driven a knife into her heart – I probably had.
(A bit of a history about my aunt which I did not know at the time I did this – when she first got married to my uncle she had been found to have breast cancer – back then they did radical mastectomies on women no matter what – no breast reconstruction – so she must have seemed disfigured to him – also they were unable to have children – not that this guy had any business being around children but that also much have impacted their marriage.)
I had nothing else to say. My aunt was struggling with what had just transpired and she was looking ill. I got up – I actually thanked them for listening to me. My aunt walked us to the door – before I left I turned to hug her – I was crying and she was crying – she begged me not to tell my dad (and again this is how these things remain secrets in families) – I wanted to talk to everyone I knew about this – especially my other girl cousins - her own sister’s kids – and by the way these cousins have to this day never married, they still live at home, they have never really had ‘boyfriends’ and one of them is gay (no I am not saying that that’s the reason why – but I don’t know my other two girl cousins from this particular family spent almost every weekend at this uncle’s house and I am telling you that in my heart and mind I KNOW he did things to them too). I promised her I would not tell my dad – she later extracted promises from me not to tell my other aunts (her sisters) as well. I felt so guilty for having laid this at my aunt’s feet (she was after all my favourite aunt). (My dad went to his grave not knowing...)
I floated down the stairs to my car leaving my aunt’s house. I knew I would never have to go back to that house again. I felt a great weight had been lifted from me – I also felt a bit like I really *should* talk to my cousins – not that I needed validation – but that I did not want this to go unnoticed in this family. I knew I’d never let my children meet this man and I did not think he should be around other children I was absolutely freaked out about the idea of him doing this (or worse) to anyone else. I suppose thoughts like 'vigilante' and 'retribution' started entering my mind...
My friend held my hand – she asked me if I was OK – we stopped for lunch and I was still numb, still upset, still scarred but somehow I saw light at the end of the tunnel – somehow I knew *I’d* be OK now…
The next evening I got a call from my aunt. My husband took the call – after getting home I began crying a lot so he knew I was still pretty fragile – he asked me if I wanted to talk to her. I agreed. I got on the phone:
“Hi C – “ she said – testing...
“Hello Aunt J – “
“Are you OK?”
“Not really”
“Uncle C wants to talk to you, is that OK?”
I drew in a sharp breath – I felt the anger, the pain the fear again – Jesus would this ever end? I hesitated…barely audible:
“Yeah OK…”
He got on the line – for someone who had never been a big talker this must have been really tough on him”
“C ? Is that you? “ I answered that it was...
“Will you forgive me?”
A wave of shock kind of took over...forgive him??? Already??? I had just told this bastard what he had done to me – it took me years to even get up the nerve – forgive him???? What audacity!
“Uncle C – it’s just too soon – I just can’t right now and I don’t know if I ever will – can you understand that?”
My aunt (who was listening on the phone) said she understood – again she asked me not to tell my dad – again I promised I wouldn’t.
I was afraid for my daughter – a lot – I would talk to her about telling me if anyone ever touched her in a ‘bad’ way or in places where they shouldn’t be touching her – I still worry about children getting molested.
Time passed – my marriage failed – yes in part it was due to what I had become and what we had not become together to face this crisis and our lack of being able to connect. It wasn’t his fault, it wasn’t my fault – it’s just what was. (Since that time we’ve grown close and I think he knows how much I was hurting back then).
My life went on. I met and fell in love with my current ex (and that relationship was doomed too – but I feel more from him not being a ‘whole’ person than me not being a 'whole' person - but obviously I was still attracted to the 'wrong' type of guy for me...)
My sister was going to get re-married – I told her I could not attend if he was going to be there. They were not invited.
My dad finally passed away. My uncle’s secret remained safe. I called my aunt. I told her that he was not welcome at my dad’s funeral. She came with her two sisters – they too did not bring their husbands. My dad’s brother’s had either passed before him or were too sick to attend. My one aunt kept giving me the ‘evil eye’ I am sure she knew what was going on – I am sure her sister told her – I wanted to go over and ask her what her problem was – I wanted to ask her if her own daughters had been tainted by this – but I already felt I knew the answer and quite frankly I didn’t care what she thought of me.
Damage is a funny thing in human terms. There’s a Billy Joel song called ‘Pressure’ and there’s a line ‘You have no scars on your face…’ - well there are scars on my soul, there are scars on my psyche, there are scars on my heart from this – I *am* damaged. I will probably always have trust issues.
Forgiveness is also a funny thing – I came to realize that by holding onto all this anger it kept me a prisoner of what he had done – I had to let go. Eventually I did. Eventually my aunt and I became close again – she began dealing with colon cancer – I kept in constant touch with her. There was a function to go to in honor of my other aunt’s (the one who was giving me the evil eye) 50th wedding anniversary – my new husband and I were invited – we went. I actually hugged him – I wasn’t afraid. When my other uncle died we went to his funeral – I was able to be in the same room with him then although I don’t think we hugged.
Finally, my aunt J- passed away. I was not sure altogether about going but I did go to her funeral – I went to pay respects to her I was not going for him – although I felt his loss. He came to me – my brother was next to me – I tensed as he went to hug me – but I hugged him back. I cried for the loss of my aunt.
I have not spoken to him or seen him since. When he passes away I will not attend his funeral – in my soul (to this day) - I pray he is not allowed near little children any more but I don’t know how much damage he’s been able to cause other than what he did to me.
I’ve cried a lot about this over the years. I come to realize he robbed me of my innocence in many ways he robbed me of being a care-free little girl. I don’t’ hate him anymore. I don’t even blame him anymore. I am not sure I’ve completely forgiven him but I know I’ve been able to let go. I have, to a great extent, slayed the dragon that kept me hostage for so long. I am free of it – not of all the damage it’s caused – but I am able to function – I’ve been able to go on and love others – I am even starting to feel eventually I will completely trust someone again – as long as it’s the ‘right’ relationship. In other words we all have baggage – it’s up to you how you want to carry it and up to you to not force others to have to deal with things that aren’t their fault. I don’t lug a lodestone around with me anymore. It’s more like a pebble in my shoe...
posted by Colette at 3:17 PM
22 Comments:
Thank you for sharing your story. I am 32,a mom...and my brother is a registered sex offender. I recently watched "Awful Normal", hoping to break something loose in my brain...I sobbed and sobbed, and took a hot shower and sobbed some more. Thank you for facing your fear(s), and helping me understand that keeping things silent is NOT ok, period. I am terrified that something so wrong could happen to my daughter. She is only 2. Thank you for being a great example of strength and courage.
reading that helped me in a way. i've also been abused but haven't told anyone. i think its almost impossible for people who haven't been molested to understand the level of courage it actually takes to confront the person who hurt you.
thanks for sharing.
I just stumbled onto your blog after watching "Awful Normal" and doing a Google search for more information. Thank you for sharing your story, a story that unfortunately too many of us share. I hope and pray that one day I am able to bring myself to forgive my molester.
I just watched the documentary myself and did a google search hoping to find out more about the women and how they are now and found your blog entry. I was not sexually abused but my son was when he was five by one of my family members. We did not hide the incident, we called the police right when he told us and the man now has a life sentence but will be up for parole in 2013 IF he completes all phases of counceling by then. I worry for my son and pray I did everything right. He is 13 now and hasn't talked about it for years. But his dad and I always listened and always answered any questions he ever asked us. I worry so much, sometimes I think I might sufficate from the pain in my chest.
As I said I was never sexually abused but I have had other abuse put upon me and I still do not speak to my own father because of it so I can not know but can understand the strength and courage you had for confronting the evil in your childhood. THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU for sharing.
I hope this all made sense I am an emotional wreck from the honesty in the documentary and your post!
The fact that you acted quickly makes a huge difference to a child’s long term mental health. He received love, support and was able to talk out his fears and have questions answered. That goes so far in helping a violated child heal.
Thank you so much for your kind words Greatgrandmasue. He seems to be a pretty normal teeneager but I am certain I will never stop worrying.
I'm a therapist who deals with trauma and with sex offender cases in specific. I'm the father of 3 children. My father is a registered offender now living outside the country. So when I watched Awful Normal, it hit me in many different ways. Within a few minutes of finishing the documentary, I looked up Celesta Davis, Karyn Davis, and their mother Ellen Davis on Facebook and sent them my thanks for their courage and my deep feelings about their confrontation with the man who molested the girls over 25 years before. I have since offered some of my therapy time per week to counseling (for free) people who have been through abuse to help get them started on the road to healing. Some of this I can do by phone or by Skype. I very much appreciate you making this blog post and for the people who read it and add their comments.
How could you not tell the police about this child predator? How could you allow him to get away with this and probably allow him to abuse other children?!? You have the power to put this sicko in prison!!! I'm so upset about this! Child Molesters are manipulators, liars! No human in their right mind would ever want to hurt a innocent child. That human is permanently damage and they will prey again! If another child is molested by this predator, I would blame it on you!!!
Dear Last Anonymous A-Hole - I have two words for you
FUCK YOU
You have no right to say that to me or any other victim of this sort of abuse. You have no clue how hard this was, how much I suffered, how it tore apart my family, my marriage and my sanity.
While I would not wish this on my worst enemy - I certainly am wishing some things on you right now.
Perhaps you should read the other positive comments and then go somewhere and hang your head in shame. It's people like you that make it hard for people like us to even begin to talk about the issues and conflicting feelings and emotions we go through.
Go abuse someone else. Stay off of my blog. This is a haven NOT a dumping ground for you and your intolerant bull shit
Ditto
I grew up in a violent, abusive alcoholic home. I was violently molested by a man who worked for my father at age 4 when my parents left us with his mother for a week. They were very abusive and barely fed us. I was the only girl in the family so I guess that is why he molested me. I was way too young to understand it and it traumatized me badly. My alcoholi father later molested me as I tried to sleep at night. I was a highly terrified child and grew up with much fear. My mother was incredilby verbally, emotioanlly and physically abusive as well. I fully believe she knew waht my father did and punished me all the more for it. My father was durnk most of my childhood, didn't work, drank most of the night and then would come into my room. Its sad to grow up like that and believe me, it affects your entire life. It absolutely devastates it. Then, its almost like being a victim follows you. I've been molested by a therapist I wen tot for help, I was raped during college. I have had to fight my entire life to survive. Now, I am deep into middle age, but I've learned a lot of things. My parents both died by the time I was 30 and in a way, it was a relief. There could never be any resolution. I am very sorry I didn't confront the man that molested me at 4 or my father. Iw was way too painful to confront my father, but I may have had the strength to confront that man. I didn't really know where he was until I was in my twenties and found he still lived in my old home town. I'm sure he is long since dead. I hope he didn't molest other kids. I have no idea. Anyone who comes down on the victims of child abuse and blames then is a total jerk. The monsters that follow you all your life are always there. My family dynamic was sick, sick, sick. I wish I'd had the power to do something about it. Back in the sixties, no one talked about it. It was quite simply swept under the rug.
To KW
I hope you will work on YOU and find a way to heal. There are people out there who can help and talking about it and opening up DOES HELP if you feel SAFE enough to do so.
The most important part of that is to feel safe again. I hope and pray that you will be well and find the happiness you so richly deserve.
Blessings and Peace to you.
C~
Thanks Colette. I wrote a book about some of those experiences just to get it all out. Its self published, not even for sale, but in a way, it was cathartic to put it all out, even in book form. I wish my story could help others, but I have no way of doing that I guess. We're all survivors in our own way, but I've also been very ill physically for years. I always think that what I went through growing up profoundly affected my health too.
Peace to you Collette.
KW
Sad for it to happen, but using that as a crutch for every fuck-up in your life is just weak on your part.
Behold - yet another cowardly, anonymous asshole has felt the need to show their ugly faces. Hey most recent a-hole, see the post where I tell the other one like you to FUCK OFF. Ditto
And this time - I hope you experience something similar in your life and have someone treat you with no compassion or understanding....
Where the fuck do you people get off making these comments and hiding behind this anonymous moniker. Show yourself - it seems to me you are the weakling here....imagine that.
First, I'm absurdly grateful to the Davis family for producing and sharing this film. I cried so hard I mimicked Celesta for a while there, and now I'm giddy and giggly and exhausted and just want this whole burdensome process to be OVER.
And Colette, thanks for sharing your story. I hope you've found a community and supporters and continue to seek out happiness and positive experiences. I'll be starting CBT soon, and I plan to move out of my house and confront my father soon, as well.
I feel compelled to address our 2 *wonderful* Anonymous posts, even though I'm sure they'll never read it.
First, it's plain weird that you went to all the trouble of watching the movie and reading this blog post, and all you got out of it was that you blame people who don't report these incidences. I think you may be missing the 'sympathetic' cogs and nobs of your brain.
However, I understand that if you've never been through a scenario like this, it's really hard to understand where we're coming from. I even had a few minutes of complete dissociation where I wondered why the fuck this whole 'confrontation' thing was such a big deal. And molestation - it's so strange that it affects us so severely!
But truly, reporting someone is not as easy as you think it is. We create happy little lives for ourselves, and sometimes something big, bad and scary comes along that we aren't equipped to deal with. No one can offer advice, there is pressure from others in our lives to pretend like it wasn't a big deal, it's too crazy to comprehend...so we agree to not report the person if they'll go to therapy (using Ellen Davis as an example). Nowadays it's a little more out in the open than it was in the 60s or 70s (THANK YOU FEMINISTS!!) so reporting these cases is more normal...when the child tells.
But if the child can't tell? If the perpetrator threatens, or the child lives with the molester, or the parents don’t care? If it seems normal to the child? They know it's wrong, but not really why it's wrong, they can justify it away....
And most victims of child sexual abuse struggle with low self-esteem. It takes a lot of fucking courage to report your molester to the authorities, turning something intensely personal and private into a PUBLIC MATTER. Many victims come away from the abuse thinking, "it wasn't such a big deal," or "I'm overreacting," and have a hard enough time standing up for themselves (victimization process continues, geniuses!), much less trying to for other hypothetical victims. Additionally, it's hard to imagine it happening to anyone else, because these things are always so secretive.
And finally, FUCK YOU. If the man who molested me does the same to anyone else - it is NOT my fault. It is HIS FAULT. And don't you FUCKING DARE tell me otherwise, because I never stuck my finger anywhere on her body it didn't belong. SUCK IT, INSENSITIVE DOUCHE-BAG.
That pissed me off. I understand your point. But it's putting too much emphasis on the victim, who already suffers from a lot of emotions and personality issues from, hey, being a victim. (Imagine that.)
Which brings me to the second Anonymous comment -
We know we're fucked up. Do you think we LIKE being fucked up? In case you missed it, a lot of us have gone through therapy. As a group, we profile for a higher-than-normal rate of failed/abusive relationships, and a huge percentage of hookers in this world are confirmed victims of child sexual abuse. You think we WANT to be fucked up? Many of us go on to lead very happy, very fulfilling lives, but only with the help of a good therapist and a strong support base. But WE'RE TRYING. That was, in fact, the entire point of the movie and Colette's post.
We're creating COMMUNITY and talking about our issues and how we're trying to overcome them and be normal just like everyone else who had happy healthy childhoods and mutually beneficial relationships that set good standards for later in life. If you doubt the importance of that, go read David Brooks' book, "The Social Animal." Not only is it a fun read, it's super informative and it's cool because it's all the latest research on how the human brain works.
For anyone crazy enough to finish reading this novella, I hope you feel a little more empathy for the poor saps in the world trying to function with the shitty hand they got dealt in life. Try to be a little less judgmental in the future - you just come across as a dick.
And thanks to the therapist who gives some free time to patients! Hope more join your club. :)
-Akira
I wanted to say thankyou for sharing your journey. A truly touching film.
I wanted to remind you just how many people your film has helped. So many of us look at life with regret to what we should have done in the past. But you did it, in a way that can/has touch countless lives. (You can know this just by reading the posts on thus blog.) You did it in a time when you were ready.
You did this in a way that could not have been done without true strength and courage. I hope you and your family can find the peace and love within yourselves that you desrve.
sending love and light
as previously stated in other comments, i would like to thank you for sharing your story. i believe it's one thing to experience something like this, but it's another thing to share it with others.
i, too, have dealt with being molested. i am almost 20 years old, and i was molested when i was 12, also by my uncle. i have lived with the baggage for years, and for such a young life, it's a very adult burden to carry. i struggle every day to maintain normality, but as you stated, normality is hard to maintain when you live everyday wanting to die.
i write this with tears in my eyes at the fact that there is possible quintessence on the other side of the trauma, as expressed by you and in reference to "awful normal." i finish us my 2nd year of college by the end of this week, and i vow that this summer to take the plunge and make the change. thanks to people like you and celesta, i have finally found the courage to no longer be silenced.
thank you again...thank you oh so very much.
Megan,
I wish I could reach out and hug you and give you strength - mainly give you peace as you deal with all of the pain/confusion/anger you face.
You have a right to live your life, to free yourself of your demons, especially demons that were not yours but thrust upon you.
If you need help ASK - don't be afraid to go talk to someone, and don't think you have to handle this alone. There are support groups, there are good counselors, heck you can even write to me off line if that helps you. I will ALWAYS answer you. In many ways, I will always be here for the people who reach out (other than those who feel the need to hurl abuse).
I am proud of you for getting through school and for focusing on YOU - keep doing that.
Thank YOU for having the courage to share.
Peace
Colette
There's a phenomenal new art project begun recently, called Project Unbreakable. This young college photography student started photographing her friends holding up quotes from their attackers/molesters (WARNING: potentially contains triggers). It's great for gaining a sense of community, for finally understanding how alone you aren't. I ended up participating, and finally writing down some of the things my dad said to me, freeing it up for the whole world to see...it was a huge burden off my chest. It helped take away the power of those words, reduce their hold over my mind. For those on the path to healing, it's beautiful and poignant.
Looking back in the years I too was molested by a babysitters husband, I only have one memory bit I am sure there was more. In the last few weeks I have become more and more pankied, maybe because my youngest daughter turned 3 and is my twin.it started for me at about 3 and lasted till I was 5 and old enough to show signs of abuse, my mother asked me and I told her un a 5 year old way what hr did, she never called the police and he went on to abuse his grandchildren. But why after over 30 years is this affecting me now, I am a stay at home mom, my daughters are in my care everyday. I know hoe you feel at least you got to confront tour molester and ask him, mine died took all if his secrets with him and I don't have closure.
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