...And After Incest

I'm struggling.  I feel/felt this was a story that should be shared (Setting the Stage for Incest).  That keeping quiet allows such things to perpetuate.  I struggle wondering if this is truly my story to share.  Then I remind myself, that I am the only one to have MY viewpoint of this story. There was very positive and strong response to "Because I Am a Female".  However, there have been only 2 views of "Setting the Stage for Incest".  So...

Part of me wonders if I am sharing TOO MUCH.  Should I stop talking.  Or should I  just trust in the Universe that the people who need to read my postings about Incest will.  I gogled Incest yesterday, and was completely nauseated that there was a website entitled Incest that claimed to have videos involving children both male and female, animals, etc.  My God!  I know that kind of stuff is out there, but I DON'T want to know THIS!

So I struggle on.  To know the complete story, I want to put human faces and souls to the players.  While a little...okay, maybe a lot eccentric, I don't know that as a family we were completely out of the norm.  Definitely odd, but until I found out the truth, I would not have said that any of us were monsters.  I still don't know.  I still love each and every member of my family dearly, even my adoptive father.  But my heart hurts.  I still maintain relationships with every member of my family, except for the youngest.  She severed relations with myself and  my mother about 13 years ago.  Altho she has friended me on Facebook, she doesn't communicate with me.  I am still not exactly clear why our relationship was severed.

So the players....

My mother.  Born and raised in Mississippi...deep south.  We always think of Mississippi as a hotbed of racism, but there is some kind of creative vibe that runs through Mississippi that resulted in Mississippi and Delta Blues. and a plethora of authors including William Faulkner, Tennessee Williams and John Grisham.  My mother has a brother who is 8 years older than her, and to hear her tell it, devoted his childhood to torturing her.  Her father taught Math at Columbia University until his death from Tuberculosis when my mother was three.  I think this loss affected her throughout her lifetime, and seemed to be part of a lifelong quest for attention and reassurance.   My mother met my biological father at a southern university  where she was majoring in Drama.  This young man of Scottish descent from the East Coast opened her eyes to activism, and they both became deeply involved in the Civil Rights Movement.  My mother, with my sister and I in the stroller, participated in The March on Washington for Jobs and Freedom in August of 1963.  This is the venue at which Martin Luther King, Jr. delivered his infamous "I Have a Dream" speech and we three were there.  In my memory I saw lots of knees and legs.  My ears remember the beautiful voices raised in Song.  My mother took us as children on forays to lunch counters in Maryland in racially integrated groups.  My father was in a group of racially integrated Freedom Riders from California that rode  the train to the racially segregated train station in Jackson Mississippi.  There the Riders were promptly arrested.  The goal was to "fill the Jail" with protestors.  Unfortunately, most of the Riders didn't have the opportunity to even see the jail as they were promptly billeted in the expansive Mississippi State Prison where my father spent 3 months for "Breach of Peace". During this time, my mother willingly raised an 18 month old, and a three year old by herself. My mother was very passionate about Civil Rights, activism, and quite anti-war.  Through my mother, my sister and I were introduced to music, especially Folk Music and Folk Dancing.   She was a member of the Sierra Club, and the reason why I joined the Peace Corps.  My mother found the conservative, small, southwest university town that her new husband brought his family to, a huge departure from Berkeley.  She had always worked, but gamely volunteered at a Community Resource Center which matched up people in need to services such as mental health, day care, Crisis Hot Line, etc.  She eventually attained a Masters in Psychology at the local university, and an Educational Doctorate in Child Psychology from a university in Colorado.  Once she was divorced and no longer responsible for her two college aged daughters, she focused her life on supporting and finding adequate educational placement for our very gifted younger sister.  Throughout her lifetime, our mother has had a passion for all genres of music; mastering the guitar, and Alto and Soprano Recorders which she played in a variety of Renaissance Musical Groups.  She was very active in the Society for Creative Anachronism.   She became a talented historical costumer, and sewing continues to be her passion.  She is a gifted writer, and has been editor of a variety of newsletters and other informational formats.  She was and continues to be an avid reader.  She is a lifelong Democrat and Episcopalian and very liberal in her political views.  As I matured and came to know my parents as people in their own right, I came to understand that it was miraculous that their marriage lasted for 10 years.   My parents were exact opposites in temperament, religion, politics, child-raising strategies and world view.   The one area where they were compatible, was in there passion for travel and the outdoors.

My adoptive father was raised on a farm in the Midwest; the eldest son with a younger sister and brother.  He lost his father to a shotgun accident (traversing or climbing through a fence) when he was a late teen.  He was no stranger to hard work either on the farm, or in a variety of manual labor jobs throughout his working career.  His grandfather on his mother's side was an old-fashioned country doctor. Both his parents learned how to fly, and the family owned a Piper Cub airplane.  After his father's death, his mother attended University to obtain a degree in Medical Records.   After High School, my father joined the Army where he served as a Private First Class.  He worked in the Caterpillar Factory and used the GI Bill to obtain his undergraduate and masters degrees in Geography.  He did not marry until he met my mother when they were both 30.  He was an avid photographer and used his children as "size markers" in the numerous slides he snapped for use as instructional aids in his Geography Classes.  He has a passion for teaching, and loves to share his geological and geographical knowledge with anybody who will listen.  The same is true for engaging in long conversations with strangers.  He was never a physically demonstrative person, rarely initiating kissing of his wife in front of his children, allowing his wife to kiss him on the cheek, but never on the mouth.  He never initiated hugging, but would allow himself to be half hugged, raising one arm so the hugger could get close to his body, and be patted by that arm.  He loved to intimidate my High School friends, but was in reality very mild-mannered and approachable.  He was never a casual or social drinker, but did drink with the intent to get rip-roaring drunk on Everclear when going through the break-up of his marriage and subsequent divorce.  Ever since I can remember, he has ALWAYS worn an outfit consisting of black oxfords with dark socks, denim workpants, white short sleeve undershirt,and either long or short-sleeved button-up broadcloth shirts.  The only variation to this, except for suit and tie on special occasions, was a pith helmet when hiking to protect his bald head from sunburn.  He loathes wearing ties.  He is a lifelong eccentric, with an almost ritualistic approach to everything, having to do every task in a uniform and predictable way.  Woe be to you if you could not replicate exactly every step when he taught you a task.  I remember being called "fathead" and "dud" quite often. He is an excruciatingly slow eater, and a genetically-disposed hoarder of papers ,covering every horizontal surface with tidy stacks of important papers.  He was released from his teaching position at the university in the late 70's through a Reduction in Force imperative.  He was involved in a lengthy, lawsuit with two other professors.  The lawsuit was ultimately decided in their favor, but any compensation was consumed during the appeals process.  He ultimately went back to school to get an elementary/secondary education teaching certificate in Science in order to support himself after resolution of the lawsuit.  Though he loved teaching, he regarded the middle schoolers that he taught with disdain due to their behaviors and lack of commen sense.  He seemed to prefer teaching girls to boys. He only taught at this level long enough to secure retirement benefits so that he COULD retire.  His political views are extremely conservative and he is an avid watcher of Fox News.  I can no longer remember whether he was an atheist or agnostic, but he was very conversant with the bible and delighted in talking rings around Jehovah's Witnesses who would innocently and unknowingly ring the doorbell.  Despite his unbelief, he always made sure that my sister and I had transportation to church when my mother was no longer part of the household.

Both my parents are highly intelligent and love words, puns and word games.  They could both be members of MENSA if they wanted.  As, I've matured, I've noted that both are a little out of the norm as far as social skills.  My father is more comfortable in social settings, but self-selects.  My mother loves settings where she can be the center of attention.

As for myself and my sister....I guess growing up, we could be called a study in contrasts.  I had difficulty learning how to read, not "getting it" until sometime after Christmas in First Grade.  When we lived in Ohio, my mother attended some classes at the University there.  During this time, both my sister and I were given a series of Aptitude Tests.  As a result, when we moved from Ohio to the Southwest, my sister skipped 2nd grade and I skipped 4th.  My sister seemed to me to be extremely confident, excelled at school and was able to hold her own in activities which required physical aptitude.  I couldn't walk without tripping over my own feet, run without kicking my own ankles, and was miserable at any type of competitive sports. She was shorter than I and curvy.  I was tall, and except for my "blossom butt" didn't have any accompanying curves until I was 30 and pregnant with my first child.  I was painfully shy, would be overcome by fits of giggles in close proximity to boys (especially good-looking ones), prone to crimson face and ears, and still have not mastered small talk.  My sister appeared to me to be comfortable in any setting, and from an early age, attracted the attentions and company of males, especially men 10-20 years her Senior.  From my perspective, she appeared supremely self-confident.  There was deifinitely sibling rivalry, not unusual in siblings so close in age.  Except for the boobs tho, I don't recall being envious of my sister, but I was definitely intimidated.  I was close to our Mom, she was close to our Dad.

Once our parents were out of the picture, we were much closer.  Throughout life, although I was the elder, she hit all the milestones, except for H.S. Graduation, first.  Menstruation, breasts, dating, first kiss, marriage, children.  We kept in touch and called each other often.  We were present for each other's weddings.  After we left home and began jobs, then became wives, my sister continued as she started.  She excelled in her studies, being very physically active, teaching herself auto and home maintenance, ultimately refinishing all the woodwork in their Cape Cod house and re-wiring and remodeling the kitchen and the basement.  I noticed though, there was a hesitancy in her interactions, especially with her husband, which I did not see when she was a child OR an adolescent.  

My sister mastered post-doctoral level work and ultimately accepted an endowed chair in the Chemistry Department at a top Ivy League University.

I taught Special Ed., and got my Masters in Occupational Therapy, and worked in an outpatient clinic with Special Needs Children.

When her memory of her abuse returned at the age of 30, everything changed.  She shared that she no longer remembered much of her childhood. and anything that she DID remember was bad.  No good memories, no positive interactions with parents.  As time progressed, I think more memories have come back to her, to the point that she denies that she said she lost her childhood memories.  But now, it's not the same.  We have almost no shared memories of our time growing up.  Even though we were in the same household until she was 14 and I 16, it is as if we were in different families.  And even now, it is as if we are in parallel but non-intersecting universes.  We can be in the same room, having conversation together, but our recollections of these events are completely different.  For the most part, we can no longer reminisce without getting into arguments.  My sister has gone through extensive counseling to deal with her revelations.  I've had to go through counseling to figure out how to let go of the need to reconcile our memories.  Her past is hers, and mine is mine.  We can't share fond memories because they're completely different.  The biggest thing I've had to let go of is the need to be right, because it just won't ever happen.

My mother loathes and does not keep in touch with my adoptive father.  Both my mother and I have lost my youngest sister, my sister's daughter, our mother's granddaughter.  My sister's children have never in memory met their grandfather.  

When I asked my father why he had relations with my sister, he says simply, "I fell in love with her."  When he refused to tell his present wife about his relationship with his daughter he said only, "We agreed not to talk about our past love affairs." as if my sister was simply an ex-girlfriend of his.  He still acts as if my sister was unfaithful to him when she married her husband.  We can't discuss this in any way that makes sense to me.  So we don't.  I have a current relationship with my father, but I will never forgive him for what he did to my sister, and the many ways it twisted our lives.

In exhausted hopefulness,
Peace.


Kismet

P.S. In proofing this for publication on this Blog, I feel that I have lost the thread of relevance, but have spent so long writing this, that I can't just bury it.  So, I am setting it free to let it journey into the universe.  If you read and can use this to at least increase your awareness of Incest ,good.  I will not expect this to have increased your understanding of incest, because, I can't understand any part of incest.  I just know that it is a twisting of both sexual and spiritual love and destroys families and people.