Originally posted Feb. 13, 2014 on WordPress.com

What more I have to say about the incest I experienced from my brother.

What I know from now is quite a bit more. The first I spoke of it was to a counselor in college, when I finally got to see one. I had approached that department near the end of my sophomore year because I was extremely depressed and anxious. They said it was too late in the year to see someone so read this book (Feeling Good) and come back next fall! Well to hell with them! I was desperate for help right then! I had a miserable summer back home on the farm and finally saw someone the next fall.

Since I remember only the one time the incest happened, we decided that I needed to confront my brother to confirm that it had actually happened. He came over to my apartment and said yes, it did happen. I asked where he got the idea. He said the boy’s locker room. That was about it. He left.

The boy’s locker room?? What the hell?? Now, I’ve never been in a boys locker room so I’m no authority. Is that really something they talk about? How to fuck your little sisters? I couldn’t believe it.

Then as an adult, I found out from my sister that she was sexually abused as well by our oldest brother. (Paul was the 3rd brother.) OMG! What was wrong with our family? Did our dad pass something down to my brothers? An attitude? A story? A tradition?

Later, I told my mom my story. She had the saddest look in her eyes. I felt bad for causing that. She said she had caught Paul on the stairs and somehow knew what he was doing and told him to stop! She already knew about the oldest brother and my sister and had assumed that Paul was abusing my sister again. She felt so bad that it was me and she never knew about it or was able to do something about it. Although, at the time, later 1960’s, what was there to do but sweep it under the rug and pray to god that no one would find out. It could have been stopped at least.

My mom also told me something that my Aunt Clarice, my dad’s next older sibling (he was the youngest of 12-hmm), told my mom one time. That was that she (Aunt Clarice) and her sisters always hoped that they weren’t working out in the orchard, in dresses, when Uncle Harry (a priest no less) came to visit. That was as close as mom was about to come to saying anything about “sexual abuse” or “incest”.

So this was somehow being passed down generation to generation. Had it skipped my dad? I don’t think he did anything although for awhile I obsessed on how, when he would be sitting in his recliner reading the paper, watching TV and smoking, we had to bend over to give him a hug and kiss before bed. When his arms slid down, they would graze the sides of my breasts. Was he doing that on purpose? Did he know? Did he enjoy that? I don’t know. I tried to consult with my sisters for a similar experience but got no response. Maybe I was making a mountain out of a molehill. I gave up thinking that he had done anything purposely wrong.