Get Over It

Having read through all the e-mails, and sections on this Website, I have some responses to those who say it is over, get over it. I know that they don't understand what has happened to people. I have been thinking about examples to use to try to show from a different perspective of what many of these people have been through. I have some things in my life that have happened that make me think of what has happened to the different generations who attend wcg

1. When trying to understand what happened to many of the first generation: I think of rape. They were seeking respite from pain and they were hurt even more.

Let me tell you why. I had been through a very trying time; divorces, moving, lose of custody of my children. I went to a very dear family member, one who I loved, and trusted deeply. We talked for hours, he was to sleep on the sofa; in the middle of the night he came into room where I was sleeping and raped me. My first reaction was shock, then I tried to fight but he was bigger and stronger. After it was over he told me that it was my fault, since I had been there when he had the urge. That was just his way of showing how much he thought of me as a woman. That I should be honored that he would want me. I didn't call the police; hey, I had gone to another city to be with this person. I doubted that they would have believed me, I knew others that had been raped and the first thing the police asked them is what had they done to provoke the attack.

It took years before I could admit to anyone what had happened, I ended up feeling like it was my fault. Especially, when he lied and made up stories to other family members so they no longer trusted or believed me. It took years for me to talk to someone who could help, and accept the fact that rape is rape no matter who does it. It leaves no out ward scars but deep mental ones that can take years to heal, if they ever do.

2. Since I was second generation, I know what is like to live through that. Of those who are now adults with children of own. We were children in the 50's, 60's and 70's. And I think of living with an abusive parent, since I did.

A parent who beats you and calls it correction for a "bad attitude," and says that they are doing this because they "love you." When the real reason they do it is because they enjoy hurting those who are helpless and under their control. One who tells you that if you would just do things right, then you could be loved. Because this is the only kind of love that you have known, you really don't know that there is any different kind of love.

It takes years to finally get to the point where you realize that your parent really has no love for you, that there is a good chance what this parent really feels is contempt and hate. It takes even longer to get to the point of no longer being hurt by not being good enough to love. And still longer to get to the point where you can tell that parent that you realize nothing you ever do will meet their standards, and you realize that they don't love you and probably never have. Mental scars, that may or may not heal.

(The strange part is that as long as I tried to understand and heal in the context of religion, the worse I felt, the guiltier I felt. As I came to deeper understanding of the chains religion puts on me and was able to discard them I found I was also healed of the mental scars.

When I think of what those two did to me I no longer feel anything; it is something that happened in the past something that helps me to better understand others. But now it is no longer something that has any power on me.)

3. Third generation and some second generation, (These are the ones, I think, of those who were children in the 80's, 90's) I liken to an auto accident where you are a passenger. You really had no control of what happened but you were badly injured. Our children were like that. They had no control but as soon as they were able they got out to have a life of their own. Yet there are times when you can see that they were scarred by what happened to them.

I was in an accident were I was a passenger, I ended up with a broken back. I had to have surgery to fix broken bones, and ripped muscles before I could start life again. It has since healed and for the most part is as good as new; but there are days when my back will hurt and it will always be there.

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