These are the text only pages from A Story To Share.Com, true stories of heartache and love. If you have been referred here by a search engine then click at the very bottom of the page to read hundreds of true stories of heartache and love.



      Overcoming oppression

     




I believe my story that I am going to tell is similar to that of people worldwide who have had their lives distorted and skewed to fit the powers like my father had in my family. Even if it appears that my father was the primary player in the conflicts, all members of my family were affected in some way, feeling the vulnerability and oppression that operated below the surface of my daily life. My story presents the kind of mentality involved in burying the truth and replacing it with lies. The longer the periods of oppression, the more emotionally weakened I feel I came within myself. Social psychologists, social worker change experts, and others have utilized large and small group techniques that access earlier personal memories – family memories and interpersonal conflicts – to explore the nature of oppression. If like me if people are to overcome oppression, I feel they must get at the truth.



Sexual abuse in a family involves and affects more than the abuser. It involves and affects the entire nuclear and extended family. This is even truer as in my case was a family member that had perpetrated the abuse. Looking back at these instances of abuse over the years that I had endured, lack of mutual respect; unequal balance of power; impaired sexual relationship; emotional disconnection; exaggerated, traditional gender roles; extreme financial dependence on my mum to keep our family fed and clothed. There is no excuse what my father exposed me to over the years I was a child that had stuffed sexually acts from a very young age tried to pimp me to his close friends. My father controlled the home life, and he perceived my mum brother, sisters, and me as his “God-given” possession. As “head of the house,” he could meet his sexual and emotional needs in any way he choose. His sexual abuse of me was about his power over me. Looking back underneath this abuse, he, too, was suffering from inadequacy, low self-esteem, and lack of empowerment in other areas of his life. My mum supported the system through her collusion to keep the physical abuse secret.

Relational patterns

I felt emotionally stuck at an earlier stage of psychosexual development. Unable to relate to others satisfactorily, in my marriage I looked to my children for love, companionship, and even parenting. In my case, the incest was not only sexual but also emotional, as I placed my children in the impossible role of confidante and emotional supporter. Besides these distorted spousal alignments, what I learnt as a child was taking control in my married life physical abuse, characterized by impenetrable secrecy.

For thirty-one years, I had listened to tragic tales of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse from others. My marriage to Steve seemed enviable. I never talked about similar experiences. Yet my marriage and family life was rife with all forms of abuse—verbal, emotional, physical. My husband regularly abused me and I found out years latter why dieing in hospital he physical abused our children. My children and I had deeply internalized the family system’s rule –“Don’t talk!” when I finally got up the courage to flee, close family and friends knew it was true but said they could only watch and wait. Denial had become deception. Secrecy had shrouded reality for so long, that even my adult children publicly denied their experience of abuse for a decade until my dievous. I have learnt that nearly all marriages and every family undergo frustrations, arguments, and other challenges to their relational bonds. Every one of us has some dysfunction. As a child when I tried to speak up no one believed me about my sexually abuse my pain and family struggles keeping family secrets. Prolonged and complete lack of vulnerability my life and family a “closed system.” My abusive family remained abusive to the extent of not allowing anything undesirable to enter or leave the system. How I would explain it as being tightly “walled-in.” Not only did I maintain strict secrecy, but also my family systems kept out, or meticulously filter, other people, ideas, or emotions that might challenge my current way of life. What I often found myself doing negatively labelling such outsiders as a threat. Looking back it was maintaining a strong “us versus them” mentality. My closed system was difficult to break out of; I feel my reason for this sexually abused and physical from a young age not being listened to taking my learnt behaviour into my marriage.



In 1986 when Esther Rantzen spoke out about child abuse and opened chid line not just for children but adult alike. One of the greatest strengths of the service, as it allows children to discuss their problems "safely" in the knowledge that no intervention will take place without their consent. The tragedy of child abuse is that the majority of children suffer in silence because they believe if they seek help they will not be believed, they are threatened into silence, or they fear that intervention will inevitably shatter such happiness as they have, for example, break up the family. Children who ring Child Line to disclose abuse are often encouraged to seek help. Often victims of abuse do not disclose their experience until their adulthood, because, at the most fundamental psychological and spiritual levels, they have learned not to trust others, especially authorities. That is so true in my case the system let me down police social workers I learnt to distrust their own perspectives and feelings. I feel over the years I have internalized a set of messages and rules, sometimes unspoken rules that” robed me of my voice. The following is a sampling of rules that I feel I followed through my life I denied my experience. I did not think, see, hear, feel, reflect or question my experience. I did not believe the obvious. I was loyal protected my family, kept the secrets obey my parents. I did not fight back, disagree, or get angry. I didn’t have needs, or ask for help, I didn’t show my pain I minimized my pain, I was not allowed to be a child or play, I could not make mistakes. I feel that I was adult but with out authority. I feel that I was responsible for everyone else, it was my fault, and I was bad, evil, immoral, and guilty. I felt responsible for others’ behaviours. All relational patterns I believe are typically inter-generational. No one is born an abuser. No one is fated to be a spouse of an abuser and silent person in the abuse. Rather family dynamics repeated until an entire nuclear family or a family member(s) chooses transformation – a process that involves individual like my self to speak out and chose to the rout into therapy.



I had the opportunity to express my own personal crises during earlier times. I was able to recount my many years of walking the street rather than going home to be abused, sleeping in bus shelters or public toilets. I was able to talk about my father but there was no good memory from as young as two I can remember how frightened I was of him how much power one person can have over another is unbelievable. The day he died was the best thing that could happen to society and me. A week before he died he asked to see my mum and I and he said sorry for the physical and sexually abuse that I had injured over the years in his hands. Nevertheless, I did not by into it he had taken away my child hood and now he was dieing he wanted to make his journey through the gates feeling better about him self. Because of my troubled life, things did not work out how I would of liked them to sex was just about having babies so I could love them and they could love me back. My years with my ex and the children and his mum that was my life I did not have one out side the home I felt he smoothed me; he treated me like his prize precession. I did not take the children over to my parents because of my father I met my mum in secret. Sharing these memories with the others helped me find a release inside me; a release of the shame I had for having had to do some things that were horrible even in my own mind. This experience of honesty, within an atmosphere of acceptance and safety, was vital for me. From this experience of telling my story, I was able to make some important personal changes. For example, I was able to find the courage to leave the marriage I had been unhappy in deep down for twenty-two years. When I look back, I had been unhappy for forty years. I feel my oppression both self-enforced and sustained by repressive power from others.

Social psychologists, social worker change experts, and others have utilized large and small group techniques that access earlier personal memories – family memories and interpersonal conflicts – to explore the nature of oppression. If like me if people are to overcome oppression, I feel they must get at the truth.

Looking back at these instances of abuse over the years that I had endured, lack of mutual respect; unequal balance of power; impaired sexual relationship; emotional disconnection; exaggerated, traditional gender roles; extreme financial dependence on my mum to keep our family fed and clothed.

My father controlled the home life, and he perceived my mum brother, sisters, and me as his “God-given” possession.

Looking back underneath this abuse, he, too, was suffering from inadequacy, low self-esteem, and lack of empowerment in other areas of his life. My mum supported the system through her collusion to keep the physical abuse secret.



For thirty-one years, I had listened to tragic tales of verbal, emotional, and physical abuse from others. I never talked about similar experiences. Yet my marriage and family life was rife with all forms of abuse—verbal, emotional, physical. My husband regularly abused me and I found out years latter why dieing in hospital he physical abused our children.

Secrecy had shrouded reality for so long, that even my adult children publicly denied their experience of abuse for a decade until my divorce. I have learnt that nearly

back

        | report story |
| comment on story |






| Love Stories | Heartache Stories | Love Quotes | Story Archive | Send Story | Message Board | Webmasters | Contact/About | Text Only | SiteMap

| Add to Yahoo | Add to Google | Add to MSN | rss feed | add to google toolbar Add Newstories to Google Toolbar |



© astorytoshare.com