From age 5-11 I was molested by a great uncle (my grandfathers bil) and although he's long dead I still have the dreams of what he did come back every few years. I can literally still taste the beer and cigarettes on his breath and feel his slimy disgusting tongue as it stabbed into my mouth. I can still feel his callused hands on me and it still turns my stomach to this day.
It's just doesn't matter how much time passes, or counseling I've had, the memories never fade. They are as vivid today 24 years later as they were the days it happened. Although I'm no longer held by the bondage of fear as I used to be I can't help but still get angry.
Angry at my parents for continually leaving me with a man they knew was a pedophile, angry with the extended family that neatly swept it under the rug never to be mentioned again, angry at the sick bastard who preyed on my innocence and stole my will to live to the point that I was suicidal by age 13. It's the one thing I can't let go of.. I've let go and forgiven so much but the anger remains a constant in my life. I'm terrified of it somehow infecting my children and them growing up with this awful cancer gnawing at their soul. As much as I hate it though it kept me going for so long. It pushed me to survive just to prove it to him that his actions didn't have any control over my life. But here I am decades later realizing that in trying to prove he didn't control me I did exactly the opposite and allowed the anger he put in me to decide the majority of my life.
There's no real point to this other than it late and I'm thinking outloud so to speak to get it off my chest.