Victory

I had a small but monumental victory last night in my ongoing healing process from abuse.

I had a dream I was in my grandfather’s house and my parents and other family were there. (In reality, he was my primary abuser.) In every other dream, I would run and hide, and he would naturally chase me and try to hurt me.

I started to hide, but then said no – that fucker is dead (he died about 28 years ago) and I’m not putting up with this any more. I walked into the main room, looked him straight in the eye, and said “You son of a *****”. He gave me this innocent, blue eyed stare like “What did I do?” Sadly, I can’t remember much else I said but I remember telling him to the effect that he knew exactly what he did and not to bullshit me. I know the truth and so does everyone else. I remember he went from standing up to sitting in a chair, and I remember never backing off, crying, or sitting down.

That is the first time, living or dead, awake or asleep, that I have ever stood up to him and called him on the carpet for the abuse. The abuse started when I was young (3 or maybe even younger, can’t really remember) and I’ll be 46 in a couple weeks. Better late than never.