***Trigger Warning – contains potentially distressing material pertaining to sexual assault
The Final Goodbye
My aunt pulled me over to the side in a waiting area in front of the bus. I remember very vividly how she gave me a second run through of the instructions I was to follow. When I was to arrive to a bus station long after my initial transfer onto another bus, [my aunt told me that] I would meet a woman – a dear friend of hers – who would be traveling the rest of the bus trip with me. This woman was actually a neighbor who lived up the street from my family home.
At some point throughout discussions about how to get me home safely, my aunt had reached out to this woman who was visiting friends and family in another state. Through their connection, they were able to arrange for her to make sure that I would get home safely the rest of the way up until my arrival home. Looking back, I felt that this was my aunt’s way of making it up to me and making peace for herself. She could not protect me when the sexual assault happened against me, and she had not done the best job helping me through the trauma after the fact, but she was surely going to make sure I made it home safely even though she could not be there with me.
It is interesting that I knew this as my aunt prepared me for her goodbye to me at the station. I internally knew a lot of things that were happening. In the final moments that we stood together, I turned to her as if my life depended on saying my last words. I told her that I was sorry for not being a good niece, but there was nothing else that I knew to say. She looked down at me, and then kneeled down in front of me and grabbed both my hands. She looked me in my eyes. Then she spoke what were some of her last face-to-face words to me.
My Aunt: You are one of the strongest young girls that I have ever met in my life. There is no one stronger than you. I love you. I need you to know that. I need you to know that I’m sorry for not protecting you and for not being there for you as I should have been. Nothing that happened to you was your fault. You are not to blame. I’m so sorry for all the bad things that I said to you when I was angry. I know that you know that I am going through a lot. I wish I had time to explain to you more, but I don’t. I love you. I love you very much, and you are a strong girl. You are so very strong. You have handled yourself better than anyone I know.
Then my aunt grabbed me and hugged me, and for the first time since that summer, I felt her. I felt who my aunt was to me. I felt her love, and even though it seemed like such a fleeing moment, I felt the softness of her heart. I felt her emotions. I felt what I knew I would never feel again, and I didn’t want to let her go. I really wished that things could have been different. I really wished that it did not take me leaving to feel her emotions. I really wished that it was not our last goodbye.
Leaving The Place Of Trauma
After my aunt hugged me for one last time, she prepared to make her departure from the terminal. She helped me to get on the bus where I sat in the seat directly behind the bus driver. I had a carryon satchel with snacks, my Prince cassettes, and my Walkman. She gave me one last kiss on my forehead, and then told me she would talk to me later. When she exited the bus, I watched her walk around to the side of the bus facing the window where I sat. She then waved and smiled at me one last time, and I waved in return. I then watched her walk away until she was lost into a sea of people and I could no longer see her anymore.
I sat realizing that I was on my own, and I was very alone. I was not alone simply because I was traveling solo, I was aware that I was alone with my thoughts and alone in general. Although I took great comfort in my introversion, I was pierced with the truth that I was in a lot of internal pain. I was very much alone in a pain that no one else seemed to understand about me. I felt such a deeply profound internal sadness in that moment that I wanted to be cradled, to be hugged, and to be loved by someone.
All that I knew was that I needed to hang on until I made it home. I hoped that maybe by the time I arrived home that my pain would end. I knew I had to be strong. So I sucked up my tears all while pondering about a summer that was already feeling a bit hazy within my mind. The events of the summer seemed to be fading from my thoughts fast and all that I had to comfort me in that moment on the bus was a continuous play of Prince songs. I was leaving the trauma behind.
When the bus driver got on the bus and prepared for departure, he glanced at me with a smile. I weakly smiled back. I was in for a long ride, and even though I did not mind, I remember as the bus was pulling away from the terminal, I searched with pondering eyes of agony for my aunt to be somewhere in the crowd waving me off. I recall feeling panicky on the inside because I already knew that she was long gone.
I ached in that moment because I did not want to forget my aunt. I did not want to forget what she looked like. I did not want to lose the memory of her even if some memories of her were bad. I just knew that there was no turning back in that moment as I felt the bus slowly making its way from the bus station onto the highway into the night. I cried on the inside because I was leaving not only the trauma behind, but I was leaving my aunt behind too, and somewhere deeply within my soul, I knew that I would never see her again.
Reflection
Even now as I think back upon this time, I cry. I cry over the loss that I did not comprehend back then for its fullness. I cry because that time was such a difficult time in my life. It was difficult because the care I needed from the person that I loved was not there for me. My aunt did not seem to care about me as much as she cared about herself. Here in lies the torment of being connected with narcissistic types or narcissists themselves. There is never love. There is never care. There is never concern. It is just what it is.
If I understood that as a child, then I might have fared better off than I did, and I would not have suffered a lifetime of emotional hurt. I do not know this for certain, however. I am just making a guess. There were other traumatic events in my life, and there was even trauma that I experienced prior to this particular summer. My mind had a way of protecting me and erasing the worst parts of the trauma while still leaving me with pieces that indicated gaps.
I look back and realize that the majority of the adults around me could not handle my trauma. So they were more inclined to distance themselves from it and me. I suppose it was easier that way on some level. Maybe I was a reminder of their own unhealed trauma. I do not know, but in my aunt’s case, I do know. She grew up with a narcissist for a mother and a narcissist for a sister (my mother). Her father may have been a narcissist too although more covert.
Unfortunately, in such a home environment where narcissists are the source of parental guidance, trauma is often reveled upon, invited, and even planned. So it makes sense now why I felt like such an outcast and why the sins of others against me were covered and hidden with the need for me to remain silent about it. I was leaving a place of trauma in a natural place, but I still had a long road of trauma ahead of me. I had no idea, but I was going to learn.
Stay tuned as my story continues.
My Voice Unchained 