***Trigger Warning – contains potentially distressing material pertaining to sexual assault
There’s No Place But Home
I remember so vividly knowing when I was aware that the bus was nearing my hometown. I remember the bus driver making a pit stop where a passenger exited the bus. I was familiar with city area because I had ridden with my dad in the area many times before. I also knew that his stepmother lived within the vicinity of the pit stop. So I knew I was almost home.
I remember the anticipation that I felt. It was almost like an agony within me. I wanted to go home so badly that I could not stand the pressure of waiting any longer. “Mother” (my aunt’s best friend) turned to me and commented that it was almost midday. She had been reading a book. I was far too restless to do anything. I could not even listen to music. I just felt like the ride would never be over. It seemed to be the longest bus ride ever (although years later I would take many others much further away).
I remember there being only a handful of people on the bus. My hometown area was the next to the last stop. Then the bus driver would turn back around and make the trip again. I remember him saying he would go up and up on the map and reach the tip. I remember thinking that it was cool to travel to all of the different places, and I knew that one day I would want to travel too. As we neared closer to my area, I knew we would be passing directly by my neighborhood soon. I smiled a huge smile when I realized it. I felt that it was the widest I had smiled in a long time.
I had smiled a few times before after the sexual assault, but this smile was different. I was going home. I was home. There was no place like home. There was no place but home. “Mother” looked at me and said, “You are so excited that you’re crying.” Yes, I had huge emotions. I was so ecstatic that I could not contain the tears. I was happy to be going home. I was happy to finally shed the summer trauma away from me. Somewhere inside of me, I was ready to unleash the heavy burden of sadness and emotional pain I carried … I was ready to release the weight.
When the bus turned into the station area, I saw my dad first. “Whoa! We have to stay seated until the bus stops,” the bus driver laughed. He needed to come to a complete stop, and I needed to remain seated until he did. He laughed because he knew I was excited and so did “Mother”. He helped me and “Mother” to get off the bus, but once I stepped off the bus, my excitement quickly abated into a slow movement of sadness.
I felt like I had stepped back in time. Had I changed that much? When my mom and dad saw me, they just stared at me. I did not know whether to take their stares as shock at seeing that I had changed so much or the calm and quiet excitement in realizing that I was finally home. Admittedly, their reactions were not what I expected from them, and I was a little disappointed, but when my dad beamed with a smile, I walked into his embrace. I was home. I was finally home.
There Is No Place Like Home
There is indeed no place quite like home. My dad’s embrace meant a lot, but I had forgotten that I had narcissistic parents. Although I presumed that they were happy to see me, the positive reception I desired from them was not forthcoming. They were positive in their own way though. My mother even smiled upon seeing me and gave me a half-hearted hug too, but out of the corner of her eyes, I could tell that there were words lurking just beyond the corners of her mouth. I could tell by the glare in her eyes that I attempted to avoid.
My brain that was protecting me had activated enough to remind me that she knew my secret. She knew my shame. I was conflicted. My body remained stiff as she hugged me even though I wanted to melt into her half-embrace. My siblings stared at me in awe. There was an air of resentfulness that I had left them and returned a very visibly different person. I was not the same, and yet, they did not have a clue. The only person who knew was my mother and grandmother.
“Mother” and my parents talked with each other, and then gave her a ride to her home. As she got out of the car and my dad helped her with her luggage, she turned towards me and asked that I not be a stranger … to come visit with her and her child sometimes to which I nodded a positive response. The car was silent for a moment until my dad returned, and he drove us home. When I got out of the car to my home, I knew there was no place like it. Yet, the realization slowly set in that there was no place but home. The struggles to cope with my intense anger were only just beginning.
Stay tuned for more.
My Voice Unchained 