I was thinking yesterday about past therapists telling me that I was a victim and not to blame, not complicit in the incest forced upon me by my brother. From age five to age twelve I told people. I was rewriting my own history. The image of a twelve year old seems innocent free from blame. I was either a freshman or sophomore so I was either 13 or 14. I wanted to distance myself...from what? Blame, persecution. My own most likely. Alice I think was trying to help me deal with all the complicated feelings and I was resisting my own forgiveness. One therapist that Alice sent me to said "I can see the pain around your eyes. It represents the part of the experience that was pleasurable." How can a victim enjoy any part of the abuse experience?

Because he was paying attention to me. It was never overtly violent or forced. Coerced but as an adult looking back it has taken years to understand that there is a kind of violence in being coerced.

I have distanced distracted ignored suffered because of self hate. Called myself names. Bad no good horrible deviant dirty girl. Obsessed with memories.

Therapists told me about boundaries. But I could not tell them - although I would imagine telling them- like a confessor seeking forgiveness. Imagining their kind and loving words assuring me I was not a monster I was normal and as good as anyone else. But I always felt crushed by the mere idea of speaking out loud my shame. And here at 59 I still am. All the journals and writing and therapy and not a word.

Therapists did not help me resolve the part of the experience that I desired. And I must have for the length of time it went on, and the ease with which I was able to end it. The last time -another lie- was when I heard his car come into the driveway. I ran to the bathroom and locked the door. A first. He found me and asked to come in. I said no. I said no and he went away and he never tried again.

Then the real pain comes from being sexualized so young. Seeking sexual pleasure with others around me, such as boys in junior high and even the family dog and cat. I was in a highly aroused state.

The greatest pain-shame- comes from the last incident. After my divorce, age 23. Willingly in my brother's bed. Fondling, masturbating but no penetration. Who was I that day?