Wishes and Questions

My biggest deepest most secret wish is that someone will protect me and stick up for me when I’m to sick or to weak to do so.

Why did I have to protect myself from my retched, lecherous Step-Father at nine years old? Why did my Mother allow him to remain in our house after knowing he’d sexually abused me? Was I not important enough to be protected? Why did I have to be left to try to protect myself? Why did I have to live in fear and dread when I was left all alone with him?

Why did my Mom let him tell me how ugly I was and that I would just be an old maid when I grew-up. That I’d wear black and no one would be there to love me?

God to admit these things, they are the things I never talk about. While I was going through the process of doctor’s visits to get qualified for Social Security I had to explain to my family how to help me and tell them what I need them to do. That I needed someone to drive me, that I needed someone to take notes for me, that I needed someone to tell the doctor who I was before all this and how I’d changed.

All the while I wondered secretly why they couldn’t see I needed this help in the first place. Why did I have to tell them I needed this help, wasn’t it obvious? Of course I forget how I play at being okay, and when ask, my first response if always that every thing is fine.

Couldn’t everyone just see to do these things for me and that I needed this help without my asking? What if I weren’t able to speak for myself how shitty that would have been!

When I was in so much pain recuperating from surgery it took both my Mom and ex-husband to nurse me. Neither one of them was strong enough to do this job alone. They had to lean on each other to kind of work through things. Both of them tried their best and my Mom did take me where I needed to go for appointments. But I felt they failed me when I could not talk them through how to help me.

When I screamed in agony.

When the prescription didn’t work and I was in mind bending agony watching my leg muscles rippling visibly in big knotty waves up my leg as I screamed at the top of my lungs incoherently, they just sat wringing their hands and watched me.

Why didn’t they demand help for me? Why did they just watch me, paralyzed with their own helplessness as I screamed? Why didn’t they make a call and have the doctor here me screaming in the background?

The child in me continues this quest for someone I can rely on, is there any possibility that I will find someone strong enough to lean on when needed? That I can place my welfare in their hands, and finally sigh and relax, not worrying about needing to protect myself all the time? I don’t think so. I am now strong enough to be my own protector. And with that I’m feeling so much better!