Just when I think I might be moving past some of my family hurts (I grew up in a pretty dysfunctional family) someone manages to let out a little more "truth" that devastates.
Last week on a visit to my parents apartment, my mother acknowledged to my older sister that yes, she knew my brother was abusing me when I was just a helpless 5 year old (having me stand next to the target while he shot at it with a 22 so I could report to him where it went in which lasted until I got hit with a ricocheting bullet once, slamming my fingers in the door, and all sorts of other crazy mean stuff that goes beyond standard big brother jerkyness). When Suzie asked her why she didn't do anything about a boy 10 years senior to her little girl tormenting her and do you know what my mother said? She said she didn't want to cause any trouble that would upset my father and cause him to leave her. (My brother doing the jerkyness was his son from first marriage.) So there you go - a little truth that my mother didn't love me enough to protect me if it meant she could lose her guy.
That led to a lot of tears last week and I'm still not ready to talk to Mom and place nice-nice this week.