“Mothers are only good when other people are around.” ~ Sybil
Being able to come out of denial and look at the very real possibility that my mother had sexually violated me, was a long process that took years to materialize. It takes a tremendous amount of strength and clarity to be willing to accept the fact that a mother can involve herself in heinous sexual offenses against her own daughter. Yet, transforming the possibility into truth was a bit easier to accept. I think allowing the possibility was like walking a steep and narrow cliff side trail, with rocks and waves below, but no end in sight. I just wanted off that trail.
Once the trail began to become a bit wider and less dangerous, I eased into the journey with less resistance, and less of a need to run back to total safety at the trail-head.
There is a strong opposition in most everyone’s mind to think that a mother would want to have sex with her daughter. So, even though I was experiencing unrelenting physical symptoms beating me down at that time of my life, I found myself thankful for the psychosomatic suffering because it had become my guide to the truth. The horrible physical manifestations, which were impossible to invent and practically unbearable to deal with, began to disappear as I faced each emerging memory, and by healing them in each therapy session by using my subconscious mind to take my power back from my mother.
As I wrote in part one of The Sacred Monster, the very first memory of having been sexually abused by my mother, was a dream where I was being given oral sex by her.
Although the dream was, at first, highly disturbing to me, I dealt with it in my therapy sessions, by allowing Butch to say and do to my mother what Blue had wanted to do as a child but was too oppressed to do.
Blue was the part of my psyche that needed a mother, that would do anything to gain my mother’s so-called love and attention. Blue craved her mother’s nourishment and would do anything to obtain it –even if only for a short time, and if it meant being forced into sexual acts to fulfill her mother’s sick emotional needs.
Blue was the silent, fearful part of me that I always picture as having carried all of my deepest, darkest shame –all the shame that was connected to my mother.
Blue always wears a little blue dress in my mind, which symbolizes that she is the feminine part of that inner child, with Butch being the masculine side –the Tomboy.
As time passed, and as the physical symptoms began to lift (especially some of my intense issues with food), I slowly absorbed the ugly truth about my polite and tidy Catholic mother.
As I began to assimilate the memories, and the truth of them, I gained clarity into my life-long, nagging feeling that there was always something wrong with me deep inside. The odd and disturbing feeling was nothing I could ever pinpoint, but it always quietly hovered over my existence, and it caused me to shed many tears –tears which never had a conscious reason.
It was Blue who always shed those tears.
In a therapy session which was aimed directly at finding the memory connected to feeling as though something was wrong with me, time slipped away, and I suddenly found myself as a young girl, in a hotel room with my mother. We were in the bed together, and there was oral sex between the two of us. I screamed out in severe emotional pain that it was her degeneracy, not mine. I then envisioned stripping myself of the skin that she defiled, and which made me feel worthless. In my mind, I threw the tainted skin at my mother, and then burned it in my mind, cleansing myself in a fire of purification.
It was around this period of time, that I had just watched the story of Greg Milligan, on Oprah. Greg had been terribly sexually abused by his own mother. She used to beat his genitals when he could not bring her to climax. I remember how hard it had been for me to watch that program, especially when Greg told Oprah, “it was very difficult to come to terms with the fact that I was my mother’s lover.” I remembering wanting to die inside when I heard those words, because at the time, although I was not yet willing to accept it, or to speak it, I knew that I too was made to be my “mother’s lover.”
That last sentence was a little difficult for me to write for all the world to see. This is liberating for me to write about, and at the same time, a huge awakening has begun. I think for the first time in a decade, I truly and fully believe myself, and don’t give a shit if no one else does.
…Part Three coming some time in the near future.
For Part One Click Here