So much has happened in the past two years that’s it feels like I’ve aged 20 years in that timeframe. The dynamics of my own personal and professional life have altered my very perceptions of life itself in such a way that it has become so very jaded and apathetic that I fear my very humanity, that it has suffered a severe blow.
For so many years I have repressed all of the abuse I endured as a child and now, I have been busily recalling much of it in an attempt to put it behind me. Instead of using so much energy to push it down, now I have focused my attention on the events of that troubled past and asking God for guidance so I can dispel its harmful nature to my psyche.
Pretty dramatic huh? Well, it feels far worse than anything I could describe to you in mere words. Music has always been a fundamental part of my life but the past years have made my need to listen to music from an occasional thing to a thing I need every 5 minutes.
Not even kidding. I have invested heavily into “earbuds”; a very cool technology that allows wireless transmission of Bluetooth signals from one’s smartphone to small earphone “buds” in one’s ears without the hassle of wires and cords, etc. BUT, the problem is, finding a high quality brand that has battery capacity that last as long as I can for my newfound drug; which I apparently need ALL the time now, even during the long hours at work which allow such things, thus far, anyways.
Now, back to the realities of life.
With the death of my, ahem, person legally designated as my mother, in late 2021, that seemed to be quite a revelation in my life, as if a tremendous weight had been lifted off of me. Almost like a veil of protective secrecy had now been given life to freely discuss what had been going on for so very long in ALL of our lives.
The abuse, both verbal and physical, the intimidation, the abuse of other, more vulnerable groups of people like Autistic girls, by her, the person of interest, that we were to witness and to automatically suppress by way of our bodies natural defense mechanisms. Kind of like, how you saw something as a child but couldn’t deal with at the time, so your mind stores the memory in a box for later analysis as an adult, but all the while causing extreme damage to your psyche, your mental capacity and ability to function; however hampered it may be.
My mother, took care of Autistic girls to help pay for life when we were kids during the 80s. When those girls didn’t do PRECISELY what they were told, they were punished in some pretty cruel and unusual ways. Ways that I was, unfortunately, to bear witness to. And I wish to God Almighty that I hadn’t seen that ANY of that shit because it still sticks with me to THIS DAY thanks to my incredibly enhanced Autistic memory storage system. I envy those with 2 second memories.
When Jessica, an Autistic girl mother took care of, “misbehaved”, by trying to take her diaper off, she was punished by having her arms duct-taped with PVC pipes my father had made for my mother so she couldn’t bend her arms at the elbows.
Jessica was a non-verbal, low-functioning Autistic girl in mother’s care that had no way of fighting back, no way to say that she was hurting, no way to express herself in any traditional sense that something, anything was wrong. As I write this, I have a Niagara Falls of tears streaming down my face because these images have been haunting me for DECADES… and the nightmares of PTSD because of it. Memories which are inescapable.
Jessica had no understanding that her diaper was a necessity, no understanding of mother’s communication to her, to keep it on. She wanted it off because it was chaffing her skin and was irritating her in a way that she could not explain. She just wanted the pain of Autism’s amplification of pain to go away but this circumstance could not be conveyed to Jessica in a way she could understand. Nor did our mother care to explain, in her mind, she was “misbehaving”. A catch-all phrase used by those in power to justify over-arching and draconian parenting methods that did NOT take into account complex mental health disorders such as Autism. There was no love, only hate due to vanity and perceived defiance.
And then, Jessica would come into the room where the four of us were sitting, and stood there with her arms sticking out ridiculously, her face expressing a terrified look of absolute horror, he skin burning with a diaper with no comfort of baby powder, and then she simply burst into tears wailing, and walked away. Because she knew no one would come to her aid.
That scenario has been my nightmare for 40 years because when I saw it, I was terrified beyond understanding. It exploded in my mind like a bomb, but Selective Mutism, an offshoot of Autism, took over and I was lost for words as I often am, even now as I am 48 years old. I was unable to speak and unable to act. Her situation demanded an immediate response but I was unable to give one, despite my issues, her problem was more important that my inabilities.
But I couldn’t do anything but stand there and be terrified at what my “mother” was writing to my everlasting memory – Jessica standing there helpless and only able to cry.
As a 10 year old boy, I feel as guilty as mother actually was for these atrocities, these images that I have been in therapy for, for several years. And because those who were entrusted with my care as a child did not pursue a diagnosis for me, I have suffered an agonizing and excruciating life as a result. And poor Jessica was left without a champion.
Do I deserve exemption for these heinous acts? Probably not. Even at 10 years old, one still needs to act at least, or tell someone, but what if you clam up every time you face another human being? What if you can’t “confront” anyone, even your own family? Or to father that got angry at the drop of a hat? For any reason? Going to the authorities would have been like climbing Mount Everest for a person with as much mental health dysfunction as I had and have. Does that make me feel better? Not even a little.
Jessica, if you’re out there, and you’re reading this, I hope you can forgive me for not acting when I should have. I hope you can understand that I have been living in fear from my angry father and mother for 50 years and acting against them was an impossibility for me, even in my state. I hope you can understand that I was not a party to your suffering, that I did NOT condone it, that I did not want any part of it. My parents were of an evil type that I have never seen or heard about since and I could not understand why they were so evil in their intent.
Please forgive my inaction, please forgive my lack of courage to face them and stop what they were doing. Believe me, I have wished I could have, for so very long. I do not deserve anything from you. I only deserve to suffer their fate as well because I had the chance to stop the abuse but I didn’t.
Even if you do forgive me, I will still have to face The Almighty, I will have to answer for my actions on those days when we were entrusted for your care. We, I, have failed miserably.
Jessica, please forgive me.