Caryl's Story

I am Caryl and 10 years ago my second ex-husband left me (I left the 1st); I was simply devastated. I saw myself as a WAS, ex-wife, ex-health care professional, a current poor excuse for a person.

My 2nd x-husband, a social worker had INSISTED that I had to have been an incest survivor. Denial is more than a river in Egypt! He and I went to a therapist to assist in separation. On the way back from that office, I had a flashback in the middle of a busy, congested interstate highway. Not a particularly good place. Fortunately my best friend at the time insisted on going in with me and she was behind the wheel when I started shaking and crying from the depths of my being.

I am, or was, a stoic, being able to go thru dental drillings without novocaine. This was a by-product of parental abuse. I remember the beatings, I bear the scar of one particularly nasty one which occurred when I was in 2nd or 3rd grade. When I was taken to be sutured up, the doc asked me how it happened. I told. I got another, more severe beating afterward with the warning that if I ever revealed what went on inside the pretty suburban house, I would be beaten again. That is how I learned not to feel, trust or talk.

Fast-forward to the car on the freeway. All along, I remembered the emotional abuse, the put downs, the "who the hell do you think you are anyhow" litany, the beatings, but I was in my mid-forties when the incest flashback happened. The therapist, familiar with 12 step programs strongly suggested ACOA. For that, I am grateful.

I met people, both men and women, who shared aspects of my upbringing. We might have been living the same lives hundreds of miles away. I WAS NOT ALONE! What a concept!

As for the ex, when I told him about the flashback, he pounded the table and said, "Ha! I knew it all along". He hadn't even the kindness to say thanks for sharing. Of course he was an alcoholic from a dysfunctional family. He was also a bit higher up on the food chain than the 1st x-husband. His family looked great to me-they did not hit any of their kids. I was in love with them too, craving the acceptance they gave me.

Since the beginning of my recovery, I have been in 12 step writing groups. These have taught me how a family might work. We all had differences of opinions; how we resolved these differences was totally different than any of us experienced in our families of origin.

My higher power led me to the right place with the necessary group of unconditionally supportive folks to jump-start my recovery. I am grateful for being able to share this with you-all.