stories

SURVIVOR'S STORIES
GRETA - MULTIPLE INCEST

I have for many years psychologically and emotionally abused my children, so much so that my relationship with my eldest son is very scarred. We talk, but he now lives with his father after he left school without finishing Grade 10. When he was about 6 - he is now 17 - and his brother 2 years old, I sought help from a clinical psychologist, who did zilch to help me, putting my anger down to stress and giving me relaxation exercises over a matter of weeks.

I have always viewed myself as a fairly well-balanced person, strong personality, a bit of a drama queen and dragon mixed into a basically fair being, a survivor with a lot of guts but little finesse. I hated my outbursts, which were almost daily, and sometimes a few times a day. My divorce - although I was married to a perfectly good, trust-worthy and absolutely supporting man - helped to ease the tension as we were killing the laughter in each other and we had grown totally apart and I was taking refuge into a few bottles of wine to overcome the anger or boredom.
Perhaps if I had taken my GP seriously when he diagnosed me with depression some 10 years ago or if he had explained to me then what depression was all about - before my divorce - I could have avoided the breakdown with my son - not the divorce, our relationship was over. I only went on real medication recently when I realised that my holiday with my lover and children was a disaster because I had suffered a severe depression (and it was only when playing bridge with three friends after the holiday and we were discussing depression that it hit me that that could be the explanation for my irrational behaviour and overreactions. I immediately went onto Cipramil (an anti-depressant) and my whole life changed. I am now off the medication and am checking my reactions carefully because I never want to fall back into that trap.

My anger was about my childhood. I was in an orphanage from the age of 5 to 14 years, not because my parents were dead, but because my father was a drunkard and my mother with only standard six could not afford to keep the four children - I was the youngest (My sisters 8 and 7 years older than I respectively and my brouther 3 years). Fortunately my mother had the sense to divorce him and place us in an orphanage. I was abused by two of my father's brothers - not at the same time - when I was a child (between the ages of five and 11) . My father, who had moved to be near us, would fetch us over weekends or during school holidays and we'd visit his brothers where the typical close family relations and the big beds made it easy to fondle and prey on a child. And of course there was always a lot of hard drinking, music, playing cards and story telling in the heated kitchen. Typical happy family scenes.

I had never spoken about the abuse - which I never really saw as rape and had my fair share of guilt about - except to a girlfriend in high school. I had never thought that it really affected or mattered to me. Then the one brother died and my sister in Randburg in a restaurant said what a pity it was that I could not attend Oom Babs' funeral because we were always so close. I freaked out completely, shouting at the top of my voice that yes, we were close, so close that he abused me and I am glad he is dead - I can't remember the words but it was quite terrible. It came as a total surprise to all. No-one had even guessed.
Since then I have been talking about it, but not realising that I may not have dealt with it or that it could have been a possible cause for my anger.

I cannot change the damage to my children and all the others that had suffered under my irrationality and sharp tongue, but at least they can understand where it comes from. And I was blessed with a lot of love - or happiness in my new relationship, which helps me and them.