The gift that keeps on giving

Admittedly, that title is very sarcastic. Today's post is on child abuse. It really will keep on coming back to haunt you, years after the fact. I did 4 years of therapy and still, from time to time, it all floods back and gets the better of me.
For those who don't know, I grew up in a very abusive home. My father was a violent alcoholic who lashed out at anyone within reach. Mostly, it was the verbal/emotional abuse that people knew of. However, he was also physically and sexually abusive too. Mom wasn't much help. I'm still not sure quite why but she never did divorce him. I truly don't buy her excuses that she would have to pay him, that she couldn't afford us kids, blah blah blah. There was something more under it, but exactly what I'll never know. Not that I think I even want to.
In a previous post (the title escapes me), I told the basic outline of my story of meeting Mr. P. and getting out of my family's home. I really don't know what I would've done without him. He is truly a Godsend. Even though I got out as soon as I could, those 18 years not only traumatized me, but shaped who I am.
Yesterday in church, our pastor was saying that God never makes mistakes. He was talking about how we all have roles within the body of Christ. Lord, that just broke me inside. Where I am now is about finding my place, and much of that is now overcoming the hurt of the small child I once was. I bottled it up long ago, and never dealt with it in my years of therapy. I made so much progress in acknowledging the sexual assaults, and not only facing but overcoming the aftermath of that. Now, I am stuck in this place where I am trying to come to terms with the emotional abuse. It seems in recent days no matter where I turn, there is something there to remind me. Whether it's an article on some one's blog, or an episode of Law and Order, or simply the way someone in the store speaks to their child, it's there all over again. I have to wonder if it will ever end, this constant sabotage of the past. How many years will I have to pay for the sins of my father? Will there come a day when I can hear someone say that I was not a mistake in God's eyes and not be near mental breakdown?
There is this feeling that by talking about it, I am just being whiny. I know so many people who've been through this. So many who've had addicted, abusive parents. So many who've wandered through life feeling worthless. Why does that make my personal journey any different? Well, it doesn't. But if nothing else, I know I can ramble, rant, rave, and generally vent here because after all, it's not as though anyone *has* to read any of this. Well, except for Mr. P. unless he wants to sleep on the couch. ;)


Til next squeak,