For my entire life I had one bright spot that I could think about and remember: my grandmother and the safety I had when with her. She was the one person who always believed in me and loved me unconditionally. Her house was a haven and no matter where I was in life or what was happening, I was always aware that she was out there waiting for me to come home. That’s what got me through my childhood, knowing that she was there.
Even as an adult after she died, I still had the memories to give me comfort. Now that’s gone.
I don’t know when I lost it, but it’s gone. When I think about home now, there’s no brightness or happiness, it’s just dark and twisted and ominous. I can’t see her house in my mind or think about that town without everything looking scary and wrong. Why did that happen? When did this change take place?
I thought I’d always have that mental oasis, a place of good, solid memories to remind me of happy, safe times, but it’s been taken from me. I don’t understand why. Now, her house and that town is completely ties to my uncle and sexual abuse. It’s like every memory has been drained of light and made dark, literally. When I think of the past, of my grandmother, there’s literally a layer of darkness covering the images. It’s bizarre and mean. That’s all I had of her and it’s been tainted. How can memories be tainted? How can something that was good and honest be made dirty and surreal? It just doesn’t seem right or fair.