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A TRUE STORY
(Showing how beliefs are formed,
and how they lead to decisions that affect our lives...)
She was 6 months old when she was first raped by her father. The physical pain was excruciating, but nothing like the emotional pain, because she felt her father had loved her. The mother's hands had always been rough, cold, wishing she weren't there. But the father's hands had been warm and loving, accepting. (Later she knew they were also sensuous and wrong). The betrayal was worse than the lack of love. And the first belief was formed. Not in thought, but in every cell, every nerve ending, every attitude of mind and body.
As she grew older the activity with the father continued, but she was not a participant. She would drift, and go numb, and each time she took the pain and memory and locked them away with a will of iron one wouldn't guess possible in so small a child. But each time, another part of her was lost to her. Then, for some reason the father was gone. They were alone and the mother was terrified. Everything changed - schedule, people, places. There was nothing to hold on to. She got sick with a fever and an intense ear ache. She cried from the pain and fear. She cried and cried and the mother had to stop her. So she put a pillow on the child's head and held her down till she was quiet.
She left the body with a desperation - like a swimmer underwater, needing air. When she came to the surface (and finally breathed) she was not alone. And she was loved, a feeling not yet experienced by the small person left behind. She knew she would never go back. Nothing would ever make her leave this heaven of love and no pain (better yet an awareness of joy) to go back to the body of that small person. Nothing. But an awareness slowly perceived of a life chosen, of responsibility long ago accepted, of immeasurable strength and support nearby. So she went back and lived and the second belief was formed in order to survive living with the mother.
The father didn't come home for almost a year. It was the great war year and the child was 3. The battle between the child and the mother never stopped. She was a prisoner of war - hated, never understanding why or when the next blow would come. The mother's language was physical and she communicated rage very effectively. A touch became a pinch, a nudge became a kick. The child never understood the source of the rage or what to do to stop it. She had been slapped, kicked, pinched and truly beaten. She had been deprived of food and water. Her body was so filled with pain, so in need of comfort that she could not live with it. So, in order to survive, another belief was formed and decision made.
She no longer knew how she felt, but she survived the war year. When the father came home everything changed - especially the mother. The war between them stopped. The mother refocused and hardly ever noticed the child who was deeply grateful for the reprieve. The child turned her attention toward the father who was the benefactor. She gave her love, loyalty, affection and her femininity - all she could find inside of herself to keep him happy - to keep him home. The activity began again. This time she felt it was a small price to pay for his protection. This time she participated, helped, distracted and gave all she could. For many years she was his whore. And she was warned (by the mother too) not to tell. As she grew up she felt shame and then rage. And during this time, another belief was formed. It came from the adults around her. It came softly and helped to keep the shame hidden and the rage in place.
She was 11. She was a fidget and did poorly in school. Since the year of the great war, when she was 3, the household was consistent. The father drank and raged, got sober and cold and despondent. The activity continued. The mother was hateful, but never so bad as the war year. The mother alternately ignored the activity or helped the father by waking up the child and bringing her to the father's bed. The power of the child in the house grew. She became important as the father's whore. Then, one day, a new understanding came to the child. She saw the mother diminishing. She saw herself becoming the mother. The child did not want to be the mother and she knew it was wrong. She did not want the role or the power. The next time he began the activity, she said no and went away from his bed and his hands and his body. The father became enraged. He raged and brooded in an angry sullen mood all day. And in that early summer evening, when it was starting to cool down and become pleasant, the father put her in a bathtub filled with water and tried to drown her. And a new belief came, complete unto itself. A cruel denial of all the feminine and womanly things beginning to form inside of her.
Another belief was coming. It was already half formed, waiting in the hazy fringes of her mind and feelings, waiting for either confirmation or denial. It had been waiting many years. She had fought the decision coming from the almost belief, and the dark magic spells it wove around her ability to love and even like herself. But this new experience gave the half-formed decision a total and complete life of its own. Now it was definite - given in its direst form by the two giants who formed her world and all the thoughts and feelings she had about herself. The belief and decision were complete.
But somewhere inside the child, an old memory of being loved in another world, like a little spark, lit up that dark decision for just a tiny moment and changed it so that she could live and not die.
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