Thursday, October 18, 2012

Radical Acceptance

 I can do "Radical Acceptance" in regards to my past, no problem! I still don't understand why any of it happened and wondering about it is a moot point, so I might as well keep telling myself "I can't fight the past" and such. The worst part about wondering why these traumatic events happened and why no one helped me at all, is that it brings back all the hate and anger. I get confused because I don't have the answers to why everything happened the way it did.

By the way, that form of acceptance is just a way of accepting what happened: "It happened, no changing the past" "past decisions lead to the current situation" "I can't fight the past" ... Things like that, positive affirmations that keep in your mind that it was not your fault.

I can do that. My mother, being inattentive and promiscuous, though being married (several times) ignored all of the abuse I suffered. It happened, she knew it happened, she knows it happened--but it was not her fault that I was the victim, no: she was the victim in her mind.--I can accept her neglectful parenting. Especially since she is now, for all intents and purposes, dead to me.

I can accept the continual mental, emotional and physical abuse from my father, along with sexually assaulting me at 13. It's easy to accept because he is clinically and medically insane. Yes, being insane does not make you do wrong, illegal or bad things; being an awful person does. The other reason it's easy to accept? He unofficially disowned me when I was 15, so I haven't talked to him in a little over a decade. No big deal, he doesn't exist anymore (to me).

I can accept that I was moved to different homes and schools three times in two years. I couldn't control being in (Catholic) kindergarten (not knocking Catholicism, that's what it was), then being moved to public-school kindergarten. I couldn't control the demeanor of the other children around me. Apparently, it was the thing to do, to make fun of a classmate who moved from the "poor" city to the "rich" city (a whole 5 mile difference in distance). I couldn't control that I was moved once more, the very first day of second grade, to a knew school--why send me when you know you'd be taking me out just to go to the other school? I couldn't control making friends with children and teachers after each move, then losing all contact because I was moved once more. I couldn't control that my second, second-grade teacher transferred schools after I adored her as a person and teacher--2 weeks in to second grade. I couldn't control the weekend visits to my father's house, where my brother and I would be sat on the floor in front of father's recliner so that he could lecture us about nonsense for four hours, minimum. I couldn't control that at seven years old, he sat us down and talked for hours--through lunch then dinner, then telling us that we "deserve to learn about hunger, so we know what it's like for kids in third-world countries." -- I can accept the things I couldn't control as a child.

Once again, I can accept my mother's promiscuity, her need for attention, etc.--because she is dead to me. I can accept that this abuse occurred from when I was 12 or 13 until I was 23. I can accept that she ignored the public record and listing of her third husband as a pedophile, just because he claimed innocence. I can accept that every adult in my life that witnessed my behavior change no one stepped in to help me, though I had obvious signs of being a victim of sexual abuse. I can accept that some people in this world are sick and do sick things to children. I can accept that I was groomed by a sexual predator--a pedophile--and I can accept that his brother, after being released from prison, sexually assaulted me when I was 15. I can accept that had happened to me. I can accept that no one helped me, though I did not ask for help, yet all the signs of abuse were obvious.

Shoot, I can even accept that my last ex-boyfriend was mentally and emotionally abusive! It's awesome he got me out of the situation I was in at 23. That doesn't give a person leave to tear me down daily because he's (ex-bf is) ashamed of himself (and projectively, me).

I can honestly and in all seriousness accept what happened. I can accept the act or situation or behavior; but I can't accept why--why did it happen to me? Why did these people choose to do these things? Why didn't anyone help me?

I can even accept that the guy who hit me 03/29/2012, hit me out of pure negligence. I still don't know why he was neglectfully driving 65MPH on a posted 35MPH city street.

...Radical acceptance...
Yes, it does make sense, but it doesn't alleviate my curiosity as to why it all happened.

1 comment:

  1. I struggle with the "why's" all the time too. Why me? I haven't found an answer. Probably never will. Hang in there!

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