And then it all went very wrong.
I have to be very careful what I say; basically a close family member objects in very strong terms to what I've been writing. It has been requested that I shut the fuck up, to put it bluntly.
When a child witnesses extreme domestic violence over a number of years, it does not go away because you become an adult. The effects reach far and deep. And yet it has gone away - it has been expunged from family history. It remains only and very clearly in me. It occurred to me yesterday that I've carried the burden of this knowledge and experience and abuse - for it is abuse - on behalf of the whole family. Nobody else was there for the whole show, forced to witness such awful violence for years. So not only have I carried this for the family, enabling them not to know, or to forget, or to pretend it was nothing, now I have been told to stay silent about it because it will upset the family. I think this is quite common where one person has been regularly subject to something like this. That person becomes the problem in the family because they rock the boat and everyone else quite likes the boat being still.
So I have the options either to brick myself up inside silence, to save everyone but myself, or to continue to speak the truth when necessary. Neither option is easy. But this is my life, my blog, my increasingly tenuous sanity.