Being an outcast hurts
Thursday, April 29, 2010 at 10:17PM 
Yesterday was my daughter’s 16th birthday – not a single member of my family called to congratulate her or me. What did I expect? That after declaring that my father raped me they will all suddenly run to me screaming “fucking bastard, you poor little thing”? I have to get used to the reality – I have to shake off the illusion that I ever had a family. I never had one. Now that the illusion is over, it hurts to look at the truth. It hurts so bad, I want to go back to the illusion. Only there is no way back, I will always know that it isn’t real, just like that guy in Matrix, eating the juicy NY steak, knowing that it’s fake.
I never had a family the way we all read as children in books. My mother never wanted me to begin with, my father didn’t either. My mother was too young to know how to be a mother, and being abused herself her whole life, used me as a parent. My father used me for sex to hurt her and to provide therapy for him for his own insecurities and constant desire for domination over women in general My aunt beat the crap out of me for being mad at her sister for who knows what. My grandma had to stay with me as my mom was mostly gone, so she did as little as she had to raise me, beating me along the way. My step-grandfather – her second husband, also used me for sex, as well as potentially my aunt’s boyfriend (which I haven’t remembered full yet – still working on it). My step-mother had to take me into her family – when she had a daughter 5 years old and was about to go with her husband (my father) to Germany – because he told her so. I had to call her mom, because he told me to. We played the game mother-daughter until I told her that she was married for 15 years to a monster. Only three people in my family keep contact with me and don’t demand anything back – my half-sister on my mom’s side and two of my cousins – the ones we practically grew up together, so they are like a brother and a sister to me.
Why does it still hurt after I have explained to myself that it’s all fake? It was so real, so real, I believed in it. I constructed this perfect world, and I injected beauty patches where it had obvious gaps. I invented noble reasons, I kept to the ideal of which I read in the books. I thought it was true. It never was. The only family I have now is the one I built – me, my husband, my two kids… I hear people complaining how their parents bother them with calls or visits – I wish I had that problem, I’m craving it. I’ll never have it.
Reader Comments (2)
Ksenia - It is always what you make of it that counts in the end. This will become all the more apparent as you see your children grow up. Which makes it all the more important to never forget where you are NOW so you don't overlook what you have built around you in the present. As you already know, things are all too fleeting as it is, there's no point in missing any more because you're too busy looking at the past.
I agree - thanks for pointing it out...