My Parents…

This is a post I rather not want to write, but since my blog readers and the people I talked with about this other places too, “where were they” ? What were they thinking of” ?… Sometimes I wonder myself the same, the last question I have no idea of, just as ? as everyone around me…

Where were they? … Mostly they were working in the barn, at daytime he was doing it they were out of the house working or elsewhere. In the night they slept one stairs above us. My youngest brother had room above mine, so I avoided making noises and went silent, like I described it in “I am just lying there”. .. When he left I could sometimes cry loudly, and one time I could remember one time one of my parents came downstairs and ask me why? But how cold I get the words out while crying? And the following day just get mourning looks and the questions aren’t asked.. SO much did they care.. Mostly I just cried silently, but my bed got soaking wet and I kept changing around how I slept in the bed at the dry spots, until I was too tired to move and just fell asleep. The bed sometimes looked like a pigsty with mucus, blood, wet by sweat and tears, and his stuff.. No wonder I got sick and laid vomiting for weeks..

Then there was the times my clothes laid VISIBLE at the table right in front of their nose ? With guests in the living room that could SE it too ? … I laid naked under the blanket, and one time did she comment it because I had to go to the toilet with the blanket wrapped around me. But nothing more.. I did lay more than one time naked under the blanket, until everyone had gone to bed, homework undone.. So my dear teacher there you have the reasons for all my forget slashes… I wasn’t forgetful, but I was prevented from doing my homework.

.. That no one stopped him is something I can’t understand at all, especially when I as an adult tried to contact the police too. What is wrong with society?

The latest was when I told my father on St.Hans evening 2009 I was going to turn his son in to the police for sexually abusing me. So why didn’t he sat in the car and drove with me to the police there and then? … The son means more to him than his daughter? Not that a crime has been committed.

When my father just offers me money and not his time or being a father after I had turned the abuser in and he had admitted it, well yeah then I want nothing more to do with him. Money means more to him than me as a daughter…

I gave up my mother as a child, so she got a letter through my lawyer telling her to stay away, and not to contact me.

So I am left without parents… I can see what others have, but I don’t have. So to you who has it, don’t take it for granted!!! Know the value in what you have ❤

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I am a mother myself to a son that lives over the sea with his father. Because of the proses with court case he has it best there. I am trying to overcome everything I have had to overcome through the past years. Barely survived it.. It is just getting out of this chaos with thoughts, the memories that ruins my everyday living, flashbacks and the ongoing reminder what he has stolen away from me.. This is something that takes tiiime…

When it all has stabilized again I will do what it takes to get most possible time together with my son again ❤ For time being I have him every other Christmas and half of his summer holidays. Want to try have him in between holidays too whenever I can afford it. It is expensive back and forth England when I don’t get any help from his father.. On top I am dragging on the debts we both had together, but money can’t fix he wrong he did, nothing can. – The abuser is to blame for it all in the end and the people who didn’t stop him..

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… I have forgotten to take in to count that it all started when we were put to have a bath together from I was 4 yrs and he was 10 yrs old.. They sat BESIDE the bathtub and WATCHED.. I complained he was harrasing me, but it didn’t end until i was 6 yrs old.. We were sometimes left to be alone together in the battub too :-O

As 6 year old I did tell for the first time to my «mother» that he was touching and put his fingers inside of me while we shared sleeping bed sofa.

When I was 12 she was told again.. Even the attemting murder attac :-O … NOTHING!

At 22 years I contact a psyciatrist for the first time, and I was refused by my «mother» to do it :-O .. I went to the psyciatrist anyway, but there I just get confirmed the same that being raped and sexually abused is normal :-O – ABSOLUTELY not, but when your boundaries and sanity gets washed out by manipulation and madness..

The world is INSANE!!! It isn’t me!

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Dette innlegget ble publisert i Abuse, All latest posts in English, Janne Helen's life og merket med . Bokmerk permalenken.

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