To link back to prior Parts (1-7) of My Story click Here
I remember bits and pieces of conversations with my mom after the initial disclosure. I remember helping to load items onto the lunch truck she and Toilet were operating. We were having a discussion. I was 15 years old and pregnant and she was telling me what I had to do. At times she made me seem like I had a choice. But then there was the overriding threat (a reoccurring theme) that any other choice would result in my Dad finding out. Then Mom said something about giving me a little bit of time to recover but after that I needed to move on. She said, "You need to get over this. Not like the abuse that you keep holding onto. You need to learn to let go and forget about things."
What horrible advice. Not to mention that her statement is a direct acknowledgment that she knew, 3 years later, that the abuse still bothered me. Yet she did nothing and offered no help.
Later I was in highschool. I believe it was my junior year. I was taking a psychology course and thought that the field of psychology sounded interesting. I had done something wrong and was getting one of Mom's "famous 2 hour lectures." I would zone off during her lectures and became a pro at nodding in the appropriate spots. This time I started debating back with her (perhaps the spark that set my ultimate career path in motion?). She said something about me "making her" do something or feel something. I told her that she had a "choice" about what to do. She started yelling about things not being a choice and I yelled back that she had always had choices but just chose not to use them wisely. She slapped me -- across the face. I considered slapping her back. But didn't.
There was another attempt by me to talk to Mom about the abuse and why she didn't react differently. The details of this conversation are very sketchy. I can't remember exactly what she said but it was something about how she was mad at me. She couldn't understand why her husband preferred me over her. She thought of me as the "other woman."
I don't remember how or why the conversation took place. I can not remember the events preceding the conversation or the events subsequent to the conversation. It is the only conversation I remember having with Toilet about what happened. I remember we were standing on the upper half of our split level staircase. He was coming up the stairs and I was going down. He was a few steps below me and so we were almost eye-level. He looked right at me and in that tone of his, said something about the fact that he was the adult and should have stopped things, but then said to me, "You wanted it. You liked it. You kept coming back for more." He said the blame wasn't all his. I accepted his truth for a very long time, and still do on most days...........