Dealing With What They Call The "Justice System" – Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part VII


3 days ago was my birthday, two days ago I had to defend myself in a court case, and yesterday I was having a major breakthrough. Bubbly chatty squirrel-me made my smart and quiet fox-father reveal something I did not know before. And he talked about a significant gesture from our family. Which is to hush someone with your finger in front of your lips …

Two days ago, I had to defend myself in front of a German court. I can't write about the details. All I can say is this:

I didn't took the case serious. Which was a mistake. I didn't think it through from a proffesional (judical) point of view. I looked at it as a human, a civil citizen of the socalled civillized world. No such status exists in front of a German court. This system and me, we're talking different languages and I felt like being a child again, judged and punished by a judge placing herself above me, ongoingly interrupting me with terms that told me nothing.

Everything I said was wrong. She denied all of my questions. I said that I felt treated unfairly. I admitted that I didn't prepare for this because I didn't feel the need to defend myself against a complaint like this. That I didn't feel like I had done anything wrong. She said, I didn't get the point, and all I needed to do, was to proof XY. And that I simply should have come there with an attorney.

The biggest misunderstanding between them and me is this:

I don't believe in this. I don't believe in lawyers, judges or this crazy artificial justice system where you're right when you follow a particular pattern in a case, invented by a class of people that made deciding about wrong or right a complicated bureaucratic procedure, kept in place by people that gave themselves the right to rule over others. I would never sue anybody. Or at least I can't think of a situation in which I would.

The treatment reminded me of some of my childhood traumas. Feeling powerless, unheard, treated unfairly, not being taken seriously. I was triggered, I shivered, I told them I was in exceptional circumstances and whether they could please understand that I did not want to drag my daughter and her friend into this case, who were the only witnesses to this incident. They did not.

Next Stop Breakthrough !

Yesterday, one day after this nightmare I went to see a therapist along with my father. I always knew about my grand-uncle who died in a KZ, what I didn't know was that my grand-dad survived the same crap. The one who got away had never been talked about. Guilt, shame, and fear kept my family from being happy about a family member surviving while the other had to die. We were talking about family secrets and I was beating about the bush for an hour until the therapist tricked me into open up. She asked my dad about his childhood and uncovered a few of his traumas in just a few minutes. She told him that he would have dissociated when being a kid because a particular situation was just too much to handle. She knew that this would get me started and it did.

Tears were streaming down my face when I said: "Alright, Papa. That's what I did. I dissociated when I got abused. Do you know that I got abused?"

He said that he had no idea. I told him about flashbacks I am having for two years now and asked questions about some people and places from my memory. He couldn't help me with that. But he finally said the following:

"When your mother was around your age she figured that her father had abused her as a child."

It was the first time I heard about it. That my mother went through the same torture I have. We finally dared to speak it out: There's a cycle of sexual child abuse going on in our family.

There are more cycles we talked about. It was the realest talk we ever had. We mentioned all the cycles. Feelings of lacking love and respect, feelings of guilt and shame, the never-ending feeling of injustice …

I forgave my mother last year after we hadn't talked for over ten years. Long story. I had no reason to forgive her other than just the need to do it. I wanted to have my peace. Now that I found out about her pain and what she is suppressing I finally got my reason. Plus a reason for why I always hated my grandfather. Maybe he raped me, too? When I found out about my own experiences, there was a time where I started researching his name. I didn't know it back then. I just felt that he's a suspiscious guy. I looked up his networks and connection. My grandfather is a prestigious guy in his town. He got every mandate for his proffession by the town he lives in. He's a powerful man. At least he was. I haven't talked to him for over ten years. Seems about time to reach out to my mother again and start a new cycle. Wish me luck!

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On I learned that you can't spell healTHCare without thc. This is my medicine and that's why I love, the blockchain for canna-content. Join me there, let's have a joint together.

Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part I
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part II – The Bad Nun & The Wewelsburg
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part III – The Politician Who Sued Me
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part IV – Entering The Void
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part V – I'm Not Who I Was
Repressed Memories of Sexual Abuse Part VI – Abracadabra, Trauma and Drama

also related:

MAJOR MISSCONCEPTIONS – What You Purposly Don't Know About Sexual Child Abuse And Its Consequences
How I Forgave That My Mother Kidnapped My Daughter

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