Family of Secrets and the Silence of a Lamb

Family Secrets - Incest

To understand the traumatic effects of Incest on a child and later in life as a grown adult, we must take a look at the dynamics of an Incestuous Family.  As adult survivor of childhood incest, I work daily to battle the demons, thoughts, feelings, and distorted view of my world.  People, who know me, don’t understand the FEARS that torment me.  So let’s explore how I grew up. Maybe the answer will be in my childhood and how I was raised.

Early on, I was told “Children are to be seen, not heard”.  Well, this certainly explains my inability to share my feelings, thoughts, & needs clearly to others.  I deal with unmet needs for emotional closeness and a constant hunger for “Control” of my life; even when things are going well.

Social isolation. As the oldest of four children, I wasn’t allowed to do things “Socially” with other kids my age.  No, I wasn’t kept locked away or anything like that. I played with the neighborhood kids, went to basketball and football games in high school.  But the “reins” were freer for my brothers & sister.  For example, when I joined the junior high band, played saxophone, I was so excited.  But when practice or concerts interfered with family camping trips, I learned early on that what I liked, what was important to me, didn’t matter.  Also, I chose the saxophone because that was my father’s favorite instrument.  Again, I was trying to “please” him.  WHY?? He was sexually molesting me?! Why would I try to continually please him?!

To the other kids in my school, I was known as “The Book Worm”, always bringing school books & homework home to study.  Grades were important in our home.  Dad would pay us when report cards came out.  Never liked that idea.  So, there were times when the other kids would be outside playing and I would be studying to bring my grades up.  Because of all this, I chose NOT to go on to college.  Why?  Because, I finally decided to do something other than what my parents wanted.

Family roles.  My mother was not an equal with my father. Dad was the head of the household. What he said, what he wanted, was all that mattered.  Mom would raise the four of us kids, but I don’t remember the loving closeness with her. It was almost like she was going through the motions after “losing herself” years ago.  When I was going through a divorce in 1993, soon to be raising 2 children ages 18mos & 10yrs old by myself, I had a conversation with my mother.  Never revealing to her the true purpose of my question, I asked her, “Why have you stayed with Dad all these years?”  My father verbally abused her. Her answer was “Well, love had nothing to do with it.” NOTHING TO DO WITH IT?!  That just blew my mind.  Here, I was going through a divorce, I loved the man, the father of my children, but we were young and wanted different things.  So by my mother’s own words, I grew up in a home without any LOVE.  Wow .. That explains a lot for me. 

Children feel blame for family problems.  I don’t remember a great deal of family problems. Dad worked and provided for the family. Mom took care of us kids and the “home-life”.  The only thing I can remember is my father reminding us kids how he didn’t like kids and never wanted any children.  Not surprising coming from him considering he was an only child. My father grew up in West Virginia. My mother, a city girl.  Not sure the whole story, but what I do remember is that my father was raised by his father; alone, black sheeps of the family.  One day, out of the blue, when I was freshman or sophomore in high school, my father received a letter from his “real” mother. She was dying. We had never heard of “his mother”.  We kids never met her.  Suddenly, she was this “other woman”. Should have been our grandmother; but she wasn’t. That is when we learned the “secret” of our family. The grandmother we would visit in Ohio, wasn’t even a relative. My father’s father & grandma were never married. And she really wasn’t my grandmother at all. Imagine the heartbreak for a child to learn this. She was someone important to my dad even after the death of his own father, years before I was born. I loved my grandmother dearly and often wrote her letters as a teenager.  So, dysfunction breeds dysfunction. At least in my home. In my childhood.  

I remember emotional hurt and pain as a child.  And no one to turn to. One camping trip I was so distraught that I went into the camper (a Midas motor home), closed the bathroom door and started cutting my wrist. I wanted to die.  I think that was the first time I thought of suicide.  Funny thing, though, I was too scared. So instead of slitting my wrist across the vein, I chose to “cut” on the side of my wrist away from any veins.  Guess I didn’t really want to die.  Then as I stood there watching the blood drip into the sink, I thought “Oh my god! Mom & Dad are going to really be mad at me”. So I put a band-aid on it, cleaned everything up, and acted like I hurt myself while hiking on a trail.  Can you imagine?! Still I held yet another secret! No one to talk to about my inner struggles & pain. I had lost all trust in communicating at all with my parents.

Secrets, dysfunction, emotional void, loss of love, physical & emotional abuse caused by incest with/by my father, fear of disapproval, fear of “the sky falling”, unexpressed anger, shame for being an unloved, unwanted child, “The Silent Lamb”.  I see it now. I was the Silent Lamb of the family.  I helped allow the dysfunction to continue while a child. But, now, as an adult I realize that I have a voice. I have feelings and thoughts & I CAN express them; Because they matter to me. I am no longer a child in that family. I no longer need to walk quietly, silently, never to disrupt the homeostasis of my family.   I am a Survivor! Hear me roar!

I encourage you to follow me 

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Open your eyes, as well as open your mouths.  Incest is a silent destroyer of everything good and beautiful in life.  Our children.