My Parents

I really need to clarify something. After my last post, I have received a couple of messages from people who have read my Blog, who seem to be under the illusion that I blame my parents in some part for what happened to me. I would like to state absolutely categorically, that I hold them in no way responsible and if I have at any time given this impression, I must apologise. 

I strongly believe that many victims from my generation were victims of our time, as much as victims of our abusers. No one had really heard of Child Sexual Abuse and it was certainly never discussed, even within the privacy of our homes. Sex and sexual activities were pretty much taboo subjects and happened only behind closed doors. Sex education did not exist in schools and for myself and many of my friends, comprised of our Mom handing us a book about 'the birds and the bees' and telling us to read it. In many cases, certainly in mine, I was eleven years old by the time this happened and it was already too little, too late.

Add into this the fact that my parents did not believe in public displays of affection, but I was a child who craved it and you have a recipe for disaster. I was basically the perfect victim and had absolutely nothing in my arsenal that I could us to protect myself. Again, my parents were not at fault - this is how they were raised and had absolutely no reason to do it differently. 

Then, as time passed and the abuse continued, my rapidly deflating self-esteem backed me into a corner. It was a vicious circle - I craved love, but because of the abuse, associated the physical side of things with love, so almost sought it out. I needed help, I knew I needed help, but I lived in an age when that help was not freely available. Children like me just didn't stand a chance. It was luck of the draw and I was the loser every which way I turned. 

So please, please, please, do not think I hold my parents in any way responsible for what happened. I never did and I never will. One of my enduring memories associated with the abuse is the day I told my parents about it and looks of devastation on their faces. It nearly killed them, especially my Dad. And I hold that close to me, proving that if they had any idea at the time, they would have stepped up and protected me. But they just didn't have the tools and information that they needed.