So maybe this observation is a product of my madness. Or perhaps it is just the byproduct of a paranoia honed by experience. Then again, it may be a genuinely valid observation. (I tend to lean towards the former explanations- I'm a chronic self-doubter.)
There's a guy at church who watches me. And he is, naturally, an older man whom I respect and am drawn to as a father figure. Naturally.
I don't know how much he watches me, but whenever he's on the platform, it seems that his eyes are on me.
And it makes me nervous.
I think of "the B situation", and I panic a little inside.
I also wonder... What is it about me? First of all, why does this happen, and second of all, why am I so hypersensitive to it?
The last question is a dumb, self-answering question. The first and second questions... are ones I've been asking for as long as I've been self-aware enough to. (Hah. That's an incredibly vague time reference. It could be a week, for all anyone knows! I just thought it was a little much of an exaggeration to say "my whole life", because that's clearly not true.)
On a slightly related note, I learned something about G last week. I got to thinking about familial roles and whatnot (Domestic Violence group is really somethin' else! Can I say I'm really enjoying it without being looked at askance?), and I thought to ask Mom if G had ever hit her.
The answer? No.
So, essentially, it boils down to this: I was pretty much the focal point of the abuse. He didn't hit Mom. K was a bit young, but she got it anyway sometimes, and Jr. and J were way too young. In addition to that, they were his own flesh and blood, so of course he would favor them. And I'm the only one he molested. So... what the heck, dude?! Seriously? What's your deal? WHY ME?
But, as explained to C in response to some prodding, I'm glad it was only me. If I had to take the hit so that the other kids could be okay, then I'm willing to accept that. (I mean, I know they're not okay, but relatively speaking... Could anyone come out of that hell-hole "okay"? Doubtful.)
*Sigh*
It's no wonder my family is f----d up.
And yet, against all odds... we're all healing. Slowly but surely.
You can't ever say there's no hope.
(Unless you're dead.)
There's a guy at church who watches me. And he is, naturally, an older man whom I respect and am drawn to as a father figure. Naturally.
I don't know how much he watches me, but whenever he's on the platform, it seems that his eyes are on me.
And it makes me nervous.
I think of "the B situation", and I panic a little inside.
I also wonder... What is it about me? First of all, why does this happen, and second of all, why am I so hypersensitive to it?
The last question is a dumb, self-answering question. The first and second questions... are ones I've been asking for as long as I've been self-aware enough to. (Hah. That's an incredibly vague time reference. It could be a week, for all anyone knows! I just thought it was a little much of an exaggeration to say "my whole life", because that's clearly not true.)
On a slightly related note, I learned something about G last week. I got to thinking about familial roles and whatnot (Domestic Violence group is really somethin' else! Can I say I'm really enjoying it without being looked at askance?), and I thought to ask Mom if G had ever hit her.
The answer? No.
So, essentially, it boils down to this: I was pretty much the focal point of the abuse. He didn't hit Mom. K was a bit young, but she got it anyway sometimes, and Jr. and J were way too young. In addition to that, they were his own flesh and blood, so of course he would favor them. And I'm the only one he molested. So... what the heck, dude?! Seriously? What's your deal? WHY ME?
But, as explained to C in response to some prodding, I'm glad it was only me. If I had to take the hit so that the other kids could be okay, then I'm willing to accept that. (I mean, I know they're not okay, but relatively speaking... Could anyone come out of that hell-hole "okay"? Doubtful.)
*Sigh*
It's no wonder my family is f----d up.
And yet, against all odds... we're all healing. Slowly but surely.
You can't ever say there's no hope.
(Unless you're dead.)
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