I just read the link... wow. That's all I can process right now. That anxiety I talked of in my other post is back. Maybe I am just too black and white of a thinker to get my head around this. Someone is the bogeyman or they aren't. I can't control what I can't predict and this fucking situation is just too unpredictable. I feel the same way about my brother-in-law as this guy felt about his abuser. I want to hurt him and guarantee he never has the chance to do what he did to his brothers to anyone ever again. I want to talk to his kids (who are all now adults) and make sure he didn't hurt them and I want to tell his wife what a monster he is. It eats me alive knowing that he lives, breaths and walks among good people that have no idea what a sick pedo he is But I sit here on my hands day after day doing nothing nothing because it is not my story to tell or battle to fight. I sit here as the sweet, loving survivor's wife moping up the fucking shit this monster has left in his wake. I feel My rage has been absolutely castrated and I have to just keep stuffing it down because it isn't about me. But goddammit it is about me. It is about me and my children because we are living with this fucking legacy. I live with my husband's older sister treating me as if I have no stake in this and it only.affects her and her family, so how dare I have an opinion about what actions her brothers take. Underneath it all she is just frightened that people will find out how damaged they are and she feels responsible for not knowing because she was the oldest. Well maybe her perfect vision of her childhood has been tarnished, but my and my children's present and future has been impacted by this more than she can ever comprehend!! Fuck!! I better stop now because I am just fanning the flames and I'm not sure I will be able to stop if I go further. I'm sitting on a fucking commuter train right now on my way home from work, but every cell in my body is reacting like I'm in the middle of a warzone and in a fight for my life. No fucking wonder I have anxiety. Why do I feel this pain so intensely like it's my own? Sorry Bob for this barrage of hateful anger, but I guess I just really, really need to start finding ways to let the pressure out of the bottle once in a while, you know?
I am not your rolling wheels, I am the highway
I am not your carpet ride, I am the sky