This week, Anne Lauren shares how growing up in a home with a narcissist father who sexually abused her and detached mother fostered feelings of abandonment.
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It was dark outside. I was trying to move into the fast lane on a busy Southern CA freeway. My friend sat in the passenger seat as we headed to water polo practice. My blinker clicked, clicked, and clicked as I waited for the large car to pass by. Suddenly, I looked ahead and the car in front of me was at a dead stop. I slammed on my breaks, crossed my arm over my friend’s chest, and rammed the back of the car. His car hit the car in front of him accordianing his sedan. The cops arrived on the scene and stopped traffic so that we could all pull over onto the side of the highway. Everyone exited their vehicles uninjured.
Soon after my father arrived in a fury. His little Porsche Boxter whipped to the side of the road. He approached me madly, yelled at me for hitting the car in front of me on accident, and then abandoned me. He left me there: a 16 year old girl, on the side of the road with my friend, a police officer, and two men both whom I had hit in the middle of the night. My friend’s mother picked us up and drove me home. As soon as I arrived my dad sat me down and started yelling at me: apparently he could be sued and lose everything. My mother sat idly by observing all that occurred.
Being the daughter of a narcissistic father and a codependent mother made for a challenging development. Everything was about him; any attempt to seek independence was squashed by her. Additionally, I was born with a digestive disease and also had epileptic seizures until I was 5. My health was sensitive throughout my life and by the time I was 22, my body shut down. It wasn’t until I was 24 that the memories resurfaced: the frequent instances of sexual abuse by my father, my grandfather, and my uncle.
My first memory was at 2, I can’t really recall when the abuse stopped. I used the same coping mechanisms as many childhood trauma survivors do: repression, forgetfulness, dissociation- I ran away from myself, abandoned my memory. I held their secrets, their shame, their need for release inside my body and slowly it poisoned me. My silence was my main source of survival- if I told, I would be killed. I was the great protector, of myself, of my family. I was a child.
When the memories resurfaced I asked my mother for space so I could simply process the new information swirling inside my head. Her codependency was more important than my need, so space was not granted. Sadly, what began as a temporary need became a permanent reality, I haven’t seen or spoken to her since. She knows what happened. She chose to stay with him. Again, I was abandoned.
It is far too common for incest survivors to be betrayed by their own families. The narcissistic abuser holds so much control over the lives of the family members, that the stories of the victim don’t matter. I’m not convinced anyone in my family actually believes what happened to me. I am in relationship with a few of them under the condition that they respect my boundaries: don’t share my contact information or my location with my parents. I am in a state of constant hiding.
I can’t pursue justice. Statute of limitation laws rob me of my right to criminalize my abusers. Apparently, it took too long for the memories to resurface and even longer for me to have the courage to take them to the police for justice to be pursued. When I finally did, I was rudely reminded of the statue of the limitations. I demanded to speak to an officer and after a long period of waiting gave my testimony. When I followed up, there were no notes about what had been done about my case. I was told to trust that the officers had done their job. But why would I believe that? No authority figure had ever done their job.
I ran away, abandoned myself to survive the abandonment of his paternal responsibility to protect my body and being, her maternal responsibility to teach me to use my voice and own my power, my family’s responsibility to stand by me when injustice arose, the state’s responsibility to enact justice. I abandoned myself because I had been abandoned so many other times. He left me on the side of the road, she sat idly by, no one defended me.
What else was I to do but run like hell?
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Anne Lauren is a word weaver, a woman warrior, and a wisdom wayfinder. She authors the blog, Blue&Lavender, which speaks of her experience recovering from incest and illness and seeks to educate and inspire others to do so. She runs her own coaching program, speaks publicly about her experience, and publishes writings to spread her hope for healing. Check out her blog at www.bluandlav.com. She can also be found on Facebook, Twitter, and Medium @BlueandLavender and on Instagram @Blue_and_Lavender.
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