Twisted with Turmoil

If it were not my family, I would have healed faster.

The complications that come from incest are far reaching and so difficult to come through.

If a stranger had done to me what my family did to me, there would be no question but to get on the down road as far and as fast away from these demoniacs as possible, right?

Not so when it’s family. It’s complicated — real complicated.

Who will you have Christmas dinner with? Who will love you unconditionally? Who will be your mother? Your father?

How would I ever obtain the status of being a good daughter or sister? If I were never a good sister, how could I be a good wife? If I didn’t have a mother that loved me, cared for me and held me, how could I ever be a good mother?

The list goes on and on.

So, you know what many of us do? We choose denial. We minimize what happened to us. We forgive falsely and pretend — with hatred and anger immediately under everything we do.

We hide!

If some monster were to have entered my room at three and killed every part of me except my heartbeat, I should have had a loving parent there to protect me. When my brother raped me, I should have had a protective mother to run to. I deserved so much more than I got. That’s just the bottom line.

I came from no love, no protection, no mercy and no grace. You could say, I came from hatred. I had to be hated or I could not have been put through the horrible shit I was put through. It certainly was NOT love.

You know what? Now I say, “So what!” I turned around and faced every dragon that was chasing me. I did not give into denial and change my story.

Cowards change their stories. The weak pretend that everything behind them was good. Their father loved them. Their mother just too weak to barely do the dishes, she did what she could.

Pour some truth into your life today. Stop pretending. You want to be a kind, good-hearted person.

Start with telling the truth.

Originally published at http://prisonerbynocrimeofmyown.com on April 14, 2022.

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Incest. Murder. Rape. Then, I turned four. This is my story.

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Jodie Tedder

Jodie Tedder

Incest. Murder. Rape. Then, I turned four. This is my story.

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