Reasons You Shouldn’t Fuck Kids


Reason #302: My Son Started School

My son started school last week.  I cried my way through most of the week.  Lots of mothers get fucked up when their child first enters the school system, so this in itself would not be a reason not to fuck kids.  For me though, the whole thing brought me to my knees.

All I could think was ‘I couldn’t keep me safe, and now that he’s at school, I can’t keep him safe either.’  And then I cry and pray and cry and pray. Tears and prayer are what you do when you have nothing else you can humanly do.

The whole thing seems unsafe to me.  The school bus, the school building, the teachers, the bigger kids.  And then there’s my sweet beautiful son, who is so innocent and sensitive.

I have no memory, but I would have had to have been his age or younger when the babysitter fucked my brother and I.  I have no memory of being five, or of kindergarten.  I realized that yesterday, that I have no memory of kindergarten.  Nothing in my mind about the teachers, the school, nothing, nothing but a big black hole where the memories of life should be.  Isn’t that rather odd? I asked my ex if she had any memory of kindergarten, and she said yes.  Not only kindergarten but nursery school too.

I once read a study that found that adults that have survived child sexual abuse tend to lose big chunks of their autobiographical memory.  I wonder if those adults are actually kids like me who have no memory of the abuse and thus big black holes in their memory of everything else during that time period?  Or are there adults who remember the abuse but still have the big black holes in their memory about everything else?

My sweet beautiful son is now out there in the world. I feel like he is alone out there, and when I was left alone, a babysitter came into our home and raped my brother and I. And I’ve been fucked up ever since, and so has my brother.  And then he fucked me too, because that’s what he’d been taught by that horrible person.

I keep telling myself that it is okay for children to go to school, that they have to go to school, that this will be a growth opportunity for him.  My ex told me how much she loved kindergarten. I swear to G-d, I had no idea what the fuck she was talking about.  “How could you have loved it??  It was school!” I said.  She said she loved it.  My memory begins at age 6, and where I grew up, it was a city environment, and the teachers yelled at us a lot.  I saw one teacher pull childrens’ hair a lot too.  My grade school felt inherently unsafe to me, probably because I had already been unsafe in the world.

I pray about my son and his school sometimes, but I feel that prayer is useless in this situation.  How can I ask G-d to protect my son when He couldn’t even protect me? It seems to me that G-d doesn’t intervene in things like this. He will hold your hand through it and through the healing process, but He will not step in and stop you from being abused.  I don’t understand that, but in order to keep surviving, I tell myself that the pain that came with surviving was all part of my life journey.  I tell myself that it fueled my growth. I don’t want my son to grow like that.

I don’t understand what G-d is thinking.  I mean, yeah, a lot of growth happens in painful times. But shit, a lot of growth happens in loving, nurturing times too. Why did You let me get hurt like that?  Why did You let her hurt me like that?

And now I am supposed to just put my son out there on a bus, in a school, in the world, as if it doesn’t scare the shit out of me?  Am I supposed to trust the world to take care of him and keep him safe when it couldn’t do that for me?

This is why you shouldn’t fuck kids.  Because we grow up and have kids, and the already-painful first day of school brings with it a layer of terror.

 



Reason #276: My son won’t go to bed
January 18, 2012, 3:27 am
Filed under: Uncategorized | Tags: , , , ,

Tonight my son didn’t want to go to bed. I naturally immediately wondered if he was getting abused at day care. Not wanting to go to bed, having trouble sleeping, peeing the bed – these are all behavioral signs of surviving abuse. My son isn’t having trouble sleeping, but he didn’t want to go to bed.

I asked him why he didn’t want to go to bed, and he said he wanted to stay up and play.

I looked at my ex-husband/wife, and he/she could see what I was thinking. He/she said “He’s not getting abused. All kids don’t like to go to bed.” He/she went on to explain that our son showed no signs of being traumatized.

I told him/her that when I was little, I would beg my mom to let me sleep with her. My nights were so freaking terror-filled. Ever since that babysitter hurt my brother and I, I have been scared of nighttime. I told the huz/wife that the idea of saying no to our son on this issue is something I just cannot do. I cannot force him to go to bed alone in his room because it reminds me of when I was little and I would beg my mom to let me sleep with her. I have no idea what is right or natural for kids to say or do because my experience of being a child was tainted with abuse.

This is yet another way that getting fucked as a kid has fucked me again in adulthood. I can’t seem to experience motherhood without re-living some of the worst parts of my childhood, and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do in normal mothering situations. My son didn’t want to go to bed, and since I can’t handle saying no to him on this issue, I sat with him on my lap until he got tired and then had the huz/wife carry him to bed when he was almost asleep. Then I cried about re-living through the experience of being a kid afraid at bedtime.

It’s late right now, and I should have gone to bed a half hour ago. But I’m freaked out and I can’t turn the light off, so I will watch tv until I’m too tired to keep my eyes open anymore.




%d bloggers like this: