December 31, 2002
"Give me some answers I can believe" by Mick

The following post is something I've wanted to do for a very, very long time and yesterday I got me arse in gear and did it. It's a sort of letter/conversation of sorts. Kind of an imaginary conversation I'd like to have with my abuser. I said some things in it that I would have liked to say to him when I had that confrontational conversation with him years ago. But back then I was a totally different person, I didn't have the ability to take control of things. It's the kind of conversation you have in hindsight. Or I do anyway. I'm forever talking to myself, can't get enough of it.

Anyway, it started off being one thing but by the end it was something different. I'd an idea of what I wanted to do but it changed. When I was writing the last bit I cried my eyes out. Not because it hurt, it didn't, but because I was sort of sending him an honest message. And with my being that honest with myself, I felt like there were weights being lifted (this newfangled honesty malarkey can be fairly liberating). When I read over the whole thing, after finishing, I felt so thoroughly happy for some reason. That kind of at-peace happiness? Or something. It's quite possible that I'm just completely deluding myself, got high on coffee and cigarettes or something, but fooling myself or not, this time it felt good. I'm not saying it was an epiphany or anything, just hugely, deeply satisfying for some reason.

Now, I have to warn you, there may be triggers ahead. I'm not totally sure though, cause there's nothing explicit here, it's just questions and stuff and some truths. But do keep your eyes peeled and, if you see a trigger, leg it. Better safe than sorry.

(Give me some answers I can believe)
by Mick

So, how you doing?
...
Sorry to hear that. Actually no, come to think of it, I'm not. You deserve to feel shit.
...
You can't have children? Wow. Shit, I wasn't expecting that. You have any idea how happy that makes me feel?
...?
You heard me. I'm glad. Don't tell me you want compassion from me. It's not what I want to hear. It's not what you're going to get.
...?
Well, ok, I suppose if I'm honest, part of me does want to feel something for you. I do, really, want to feel sympathy or even feel like helping. I just can't, I don't. It goes against my sense of justice. I'm not going to lie, even to you. Anyone else and I would feel sorry. I'd want to do what I could to comfort you. I'd want to give you a hug. But I mean... If you did it to me what's to stop you doing it to your own children?
...
I can't believe you said that! So if it's not your own son it's ok? Fuck! Do you really honest to God expect me to believe that? Does it even sound plausible to you? You know, you haven't exactly gotten off to the best of starts here.
...
Oh come on! At least be honest with yourself. There's no way, unless you're totally out of your mind, that you could really believe that.
...
No, there's not. Not a hope. Think of who you're talking to here. You can't lie to me anymore. I'm awake now. You can't lie to me, not me. I know you too well.
...
Yes, you were fuckin lying. You can't help yourself.
...
Tell me, what made you think you'd get away with doing what you did?
...
You didn't think. That certainly helps me a lot. Cheers.
...
Now you apologise. It's a bit late. You shouldn't have to apologise in the first place. What happened shouldn't have happened.
...
Christ, would you stop that? You're not that good an actor. You don't convince me. What did I tell you? You can't lie to me.
...?
So what, you're fuckin crying now? So what? Even your tears are lies. Tears appear for all sorts of reasons. I'm inclined to think yours are cause you're stuck in a corner here and can't run. So please, cut the shit and talk straight.
...?
What, you think I haven't felt guilt? Christ, you're an awful muppet. I've felt guilt forever. Forever. I can't remember a time in my life when I've been free from guilt.
...?
Well, for the stupidest reasons. For trusting you. For not trusting my family. For giving you a chance but no one else, not even me. Later, for being a complete bastard. For treating people like shit. For being who I am. And yet at the same time I'm proud of who I am. But that doesn't mean I've any self-esteem. You wouldn't believe the amount of contradictions I live with every waking minute. There's a fuckin infinity of them.
...
Now, you know, that doesn't help me. Your compassion feels like an attempt to deflect attention away from yourself. You've done it before, I can see the signs. I told you before, I know you too well, you can't fool me anymore. Did you ever give any thought whatsoever to what affect you've had on my life?
...
You are my life. You made me. And I'm ripped apart every day. I hate so much about me. But at the same time I'm so very grateful that I am who I am. I am a good person because of what I went through. And at the same time I'm a lousy sod because of it. I'm a wreck. There's me and then there's two other people in me both shouting different things at the same time. Since they're in my head I can't tune out. I can't turn down the volume. There is no silence in my life. For years I've been listening to this crap. They tell me different things in the same breath. How's a guy supposed to remain sane? You think you've had it tough these last few years? Wondering if I'd ever report you and if I did would it ever reach court? You don't know the meaning of tough. You don't know the meaning of pain. You don't know what you're talking about.
...
You're full of shit.
...?
I didn't have anyone. The counsellors I saw were fools. I think I got the short end of the stick there. I fell in love while seeing the first one. He figured my new found happiness meant I was cured and sent me on my merry way. When it fell apart I was back to square one. The second didn't even ask the right questions in the first place. I've read all the books so I know he didn't do his job. The third, and this one's a doozy, sent me away saying he couldn't help me because, hah get this, because I knew myself too well. I mean really! You go to someone asking, begging, praying, paying for help, and they don't even pretend to try.
...?
No, I'm not seeing anyone. Not for a long time now. Years. No girlfriend. Had a few, but I always ended up pressing the self-destruct button. I stopped even trying a few years ago, I refuse to keep hurting people.
...?
Well, I'm afraid. And this one's most certainly, exclusively, without a doubt, all your fault. I'm afraid I'll be happy, that's part of it... that I don't feel in my heart that I deserve happiness. I'm afraid I'll be happy, settle down, have a family, and then become you. Do you see what you've done to me? I won't even put myself in the position where I'll even kiss a girl cause I'm scared shitless that I'll eventually be an abuser. And that sucks for so many reasons, least of all being the fact that kissing is great. You see how much you've fucked me up? That I won't risk having a family, being happy? I'm terrified of becoming you. I won't even put myself at the very slightest risk of ever inflicting anything like that on anyone. Do you see what you've done? Can you even comprehend the existence of anything that doesn't feed your own selfishness?
...
As soon as I get comfortable with someone, it's like there's a switch in my head and it just turns itself off, suddenly I'm saying goodbye. It's not something I can help and, in a way, it's not something I want to fix. I don't believe it's worth the risk. I can say with complete conviction that the last thing I want to do is inflict on someone what I went through. But to be honest, there's no way I can know that for a fact, I can't tell the future. I know the pain is something no one should ever go through. But I don't know whether or not I could inflict that pain. I believe I could never do it, I believe it, but there's no way of being one hundred percent sure. For that reason I'm not willing to put myself in a position where it might happen.
...?
Yes. You are that big a part of my life. You stole my childhood, my innocence, my ability to trust others and myself, to love, you stole my last shred of self-esteem. I've had to fight like hell to gain every inch of ground. What you did lasts forever. You bound me to you. There's a great big shackle miles long chaining us together. You are with me forever. But it works both ways. You'll never be rid of me. I'll hound you till I get my justice. I will keep breathing, every breath a slap to your face. Every thought, every feeling of joy or satisfaction an insult to your intent. You'll never win. I'll never give up.
...
Too many lies. Too many lies. You know I wish, for once, you could sound sincere. I wish I could believe you. I wish I could be certain you were sorry. Then again, maybe I don't want you to be sorry. That way I'll always have an excuse to be angry...
...

-

...?
Well since you ask, it took me forever to get here, and I've still got forever to go. And if you were really sitting in front of me right now I'm not even close to being sure I could talk to you like this. I don't know if I could even talk at all. I don't know if I really meant all that I've said here, might be just how I'm feeling right now, don't think so though. Like I said, there's just so many contradictions floating round inside me. When you're like me you can feel a million conflicting feelings all at once. I don't know if I'd run away, attack you, or just sit crying. I don't know if I'd be afraid or forgiving. You know, there's a half a chance I would forgive you. Hard to admit but since I'm being honest I may as well. Of course there's a better chance I'd try to kill you but hey, it's to be expected. The point is, you haven't given me any real answers. Ever. Part of life is the search for truth, for meaning, for answers. It hurts me that I may never have the answers I feel I need. When I asked why you did what you did to me, and you answered 'I think I loved you too much', that wasn't a real answer. That was a killer. I'm still not sure whether or not you meant for it to tear me up or if you were being honest; whether you are truly evil or just sick and blind.

I want you to understand what you've done to me. I want you to care. I want to see you care. I want to see remorse. I'm sick and tired of hating and, to be really honest, I want you to give me a real good reason to forgive you. Convince me, tell me why. Give me some answers I can believe. Don't get me wrong, now, I still think you deserve some serious medieval-style punishment. But I want to be able to forgive you and mean it. I want to have that option. I'd like to have that choice. You know?

Posted by Colm at December 31, 2002 07:02 PM
Comments

When I sense someone is brave enough to know what it's like to be a survivor, your words will come to mind, along with "A Legacy" by Liz. What you have written is very powerful, very touching, very true. As I read it, I have an image of standing on a hillside and seeing the desert of survival mapped out clearly: a place of courage and danger and beauty and strength, a place that terrifies the traveller but leads to a destination that is breath-taking. Thank you, Mick, for sharing it.

Posted by: Joe on January 1, 2003 01:12 AM

Hi Mick...thank you so much for sharing that...Yet again a very powerful piece of prose. You write with such passion and conviction and truth...wonderful. I agree with everything Joe says above and to think you still have the thought of forgiveness in your heart tells me everything about you. A caring compassionate person with great honesty...thanks again. G

Posted by: georgina on January 1, 2003 06:31 PM

Mick, this is truly amazing. I am shell-shocked reading it. Your courage, bravery and brutal honesty are awesome. Well done and thanks so much for sharing it.
Liz.

Posted by: Liz on January 1, 2003 06:34 PM

Mick, I am truely touched by this, and not at all upset despite the warnings. Your need to forgive corresponds exactly with mine - really a wish that the world would be ok again, that it could be a safe place, that all - including your abuser would heal. Its a very worthy and touching piece of work.

Despite my own terror of counselling etc., I would encourage you to keep trying - you have so much to give. Your awareness of the truely horrendour nature of abuse actually makes you a very loving person, with immense capacity to do good. By isolating yourself - avoiding relationships, you are denying yourself the chance to heal and the chance to really love others in a way that could be so powerful. I'd be interested in exploring this with you by e-mail if you like; I'll mail you with my address, but I do not wish it to give to others. I'm still hiding and afraid of being hurt......

Cheers
TMC

Posted by: TMC on January 1, 2003 07:26 PM
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