captivatingbitter

      My grandmother is fiercely loyal to her favorite son.  For reasons no one really knows she worships the ground he walks on.  It is not unlike a cult, with Eddie the proclaimed prophet or savior.  I will never understand where this unhealthy devotion comes from.  Growing up in this family of 8 children, Eddie was the one who could do no wrong.  He molested some and possibly all of his 5 sisters.  When they came and told their mother, she told all of the children to keep it a secret and not tell their father.  She was worried that if her husband found out he would kick Eddie out of the house.  She was more willing to sacrifice all 5 of her daughters to this man than to save her daughters and put him away where he belonged. 

      Later, after the children grew up and some had girls of their own, the entire family gladly left their daughters alone with this man knowing full well what he was capable of.  It was more important to  save this “good man” this “man of God” than to be sure their children were safe.  It was more important to preserve a reputation than any of the girl’s innocence.  We were all disposable.  Just something to be sacrificed at the Altar of Eddie.

      If I live to be a hundred years old, I will never know where all of the contempt came from.  Why were the girls in my family so despised?  Why were we so worthless to so many people?  Why were our lives not more important than the reputation and freedom of one man?  Why was it ok for Eddie to molest and rape us? 

      I know it’s impossible to ever get answers to these questions, but I long to understand.  There’s a part of me that believes if I could just understand this, my life would suddenly make sence.  I know this is pure fantasy and will never happen, but I just long to categorize these experiences and make them fit into some form of sanity.  I want to have simple explanations, even if they are painful ones.  Instead I am stuck with this horrible feeling of worthless-ness.  Of being a disposable object… a thing of contempt.  I feel like I must be truly broken for an entire family to want to toss me to a monster, then protect the monster.

      I know one day I will be beyond this in my healing and the quest for answers will not matter so much.  I know that one day I will learn to accept that my family is just profoundly broken and twisted and wrong and completely unaware of  what love actually is or what it means.  But between now and then I have this gaping hole in my heart and a pain that  permeates all I touch and a sadness that lingers behind my smile.