After re-reading a recent post & the comments I’ve been thinking about my abuser & my situation. I feel like I’m in a swirling tide of despair. I feel lost & confused. Unsure of myself & my decisions.

Why am I telling them, that if they go ahead with the case against my wishes, that they will not have any co-operation from me? Is that even really true? Say they arrested him & took his kids into care, would I really look the other way? Would I have the guts to pull the plug, not just to let them sweep me along into something I never wanted in the first place. Now where have I experienced this before. Oh the irony.

What am I so afraid of?

I guess it all stems from being ready. Again, I didn’t choose to tell anyone. The fact I was sexually abused by my uncle was discovered by a nosey step-father who happened across a journal – hence, I wasn’t ready. I’m still not ready.

But what does being ready even mean? How does it manifest itself? Will I suddenly wake up one day & just know? Will my body surge with the bravery & courage I wish I had? In-fact, that’s a lie, I don’t wish I had anything of the sort. What I wish is that I could turn the clock back to never having written in that journal & never letting anyone find out.

I don’t what what ready feels like, I don’t know the signs or what to look for. Am I ready now but I just don’t know it?

I’ve been dealing with the abuse & it’s effects for 6-7 years now, internally that is. I’ve never spoken to anyone (a professional) about it & I’m not planning on it either, at least not until I’m back with Bear. I cannot even contemplate doing it over here. It would be a very dangerous thing for me to open that door without the proper support I need….

Support. I don’t have much support here. I know people try, albeit not very well but sometimes, well, my mother tries maybe? But she is the last thing I need. That sounds so cruel but unfortunately it is what it is & really, that’s the bed she made for herself a long time ago. So really, I have little to no support from anyone here. I’m sure there’s a few who would beg to differ but actions speak louder than words don’t they, & I’ve had neither.

My support is Bear, I need Bear. And where is he but 5,000 miles across the Atlantic ocean. The thing with having Bear physically by my side for support is that way, I can be sure not to be bullied nor swept along. We can safely say my family see me as a child – perhaps if they’d tried a little harder when I was a child, none of this would ever have happened.

I’ve never been a part of my mothers family. None of them have ever been interested in me, even when as a baby I was deathly ill, none of them cared. So to suddenly turn around & say “He, my uncle, my “Godfather”, your brother sexually abused me for 3 years”, well, it’s very scary. I believed that no-one would believe me for a start. I’ve been proved wrong so far, but then, I’m not even sure on that because no-one communicates so I’m just going by the riddles thrown at me by the step-father.

I think about my mothers mum & the fact that she will be the last to know, probably once they arrest my uncle. I don’t think her dad will ever know as he isn’t well at all with Alzheimer’s & suchlike. But either way, I honestly believe that she won’t believe it. She never cared for me as a child, why should she care now. I mean, no-one wants to hear their son is a pedophile/rapist/you name it. No-one wants to hear that.

Anyway, I’ve always believed, & perhaps I should credit that to my abuser, that no-one would believe me & that sooner or later they would all close ranks. I envisioned confrontations, over the phone & door to door, & perhaps that may well come, I don’t know. It scares me. It scares me that we’re not answering the house-phone because of who might be calling, it scares me that I’m not allowed to answer the door for fear of who might be on the other side. It just scares me full stop.

Over the years & the separation of hundreds to what is now thousands of miles I feel I have dealt with the abuse, as much as I can, even if that means having blanked most of it out to perfection, like it never even happened. But I understand that other people, family members who have just now found out haven’t had the time nor the…I don’t even know…I guess being a third party they cannot black this out like I do. So to see people almost grieving around me is somewhat strange, scary & at times, infuriating. How dare they. I think to myself at times. How fucking dare they pretend to care now when they couldn’t give a flying fuck before. I have a lot of anger towards my family, especially now.

I worry about the police, the questions & the power. I worry about it developing into a full blown court case. I worry about what will happen when my abuser gets out on bail, will he come & hunt me down? What about his wife & kids? Will she come & find me? She won’t believe me, I’m sure of it. In-fact, due to my father, (though I do not know exactly what has been done), she knows enough right now to at least have questioned him, yet she hasn’t left him has she. No. Because he’s pulled the same wool over her eyes too.

I wonder if he, like I had until my world was shattered by the discovery, has convinced himself it never happened, or that I was willing & that it was all fine & dandy. All these years he thought he’d get away with it. Evidently he thought I would be forever thirteen & I would never grow up to know how wrong evil it really was.

What am I so afraid of?

The past? The future? The truth?