I honestly don't know how to start this blog. There is so much going on in my life and all of it is weighing heavily on me. Yet, even this is a consequence of being in an abusive relationship and environment. In most cases narcissistic parents usually raise kids who come out to be overly empathic and anxious (voila! I present me). But on that spectrum they can also raise kids who can turn out to be narcissists as well, and that's older my brother. I really hate writing about him because somehow the hurt that comes from him runs so deep. I don't exactly know if it's because he was always protected by my parents and treated better or because the sexual abuse I suffered at his hands lasted so long, maybe because I feel in some way that he should have been a place of safety since we technically grew up in the same hell. Either way every time I think about who he became, I'm disgusted.
Back to the topic at hand (don't worry this will all tie together). There are these beaded curtains that people use to separate rooms. You can sorta see through them but with the shade of the beads in the way. I think that's what the sides of abuse and non-abuse looks like. It clearly delineates two rooms but the veil is sheer enough to see through, smell through, even touch but it definitely is the other side. When you grow up in a household where abuse is rampant and directed at all in the house it's like standing on the other side of those beads but not being able to fully see through. Being so close to the action but knowing you can't cross. My friend of 25 years and I spent some time together this weekend and it was amazing and yet it was pure torture. Seeing her and knowing that she knew so much about the abuse I endured made everything come flooding back to me. I remembered how my brother would chase away boys that liked me and I was afraid because I felt like it meant he wanted me for myself. I thought about the beatings I got while my mother swore at me telling me that she knew I wished I could have my friend's mother. As we talked, I recalled the times I cried out for help to her on the other side of that beaded curtain and the best she could do was be there. Seeing everything and not being able to help because she herself was a child. It was all I could do to sit there and talk while my mind raced with all of the things I endured growing up with her by my side. And though I am more than grateful for the time we had together this weekend, it left me in such a vulnerable state.
I've been having nightmares for several months now. Sometimes to the point of waking up fighting, kicking, punching, pushing. The victim of my actions is always my mother or brother. But after this weekend I had to go back to wearing a mouth guard to stop me clenching my jaw in my sleep. I dreamt clearly and vividly of my brother molesting me and my having to fight him off. I dreamt of having to defend myself against my mother and for the first time in years I had full on panic attacks at the idea of sleeping. I was so afraid of the feeling of possibly waking up fighting that my body triggered a distress response.
My brother had gotten evicted a few months ago and he and his family had nowhere to stay...sort of. The kids and wife had a place to stay but not him and he was with me for a while. You can imagine in that time I was having full on karate kid fights in my sleep. One night I almost fell off the bed. I tried my best to give him a place to stay where he needed not worry about anything. Only a week and a half after he left my place my mother came and needed a place to stay. What started out as a two week stay for doctors appointments turned into her living here even still. She then told me that my brother said he didn't like the way I treated him while he was here (granted I think it's gracious of me to even let him on my porch, much less sleeping in my house). So he and my mother had a lovely conversation about me. Less than a week later to this weekend, he gets arrested and has the unmitigated gall to ask me to give him money. Meanwhile I'm fighting off nightmares and anxiety while my mother complains that I don't do daily tasks (in my own house).
I say all of that to say that there is no other side of abuse when you live in it. These people use me, abuse me and continue to do so as long as I feel small, insignificant, insecure and unworthy. My family will not change and will continue to be abusive. I feel absolutely defeated when I think about how much of myself I sacrifice for them and it will never be enough. I think about how I stay around for the sake of my niece and nephew but know that there's not much I can do. I realize that there are people on the other side looking in and not able to see how much I'm hurting because I'm silhouetted in the brightly colored beads. I can only hope that with time I can walk away from my family, from this old self stuck in a toxic cycle, from the people and situations that disrupt my peace. I can only hope for change within myself.
Keep me in thoughts and prayers,
Dat Bahamian Borderline
IG: bahamian_borderline
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