November the Damned

When I was a kid growing up, the phrase "and twice on Sunday" came up quite a bit. Usually when someone was talking about something they shouldn't be doing so as a rebel they would say something to the effect of : "I drink at least a 6 pack of beer every day... and twice on Sunday!"

Anyway, I am doing a blog today for the second time in one day. It just so happens to be Sunday.

I peeked at my blog archive a few moments ago and the realization that I have not blogged for five years really hit home. Not only that, but the last time I was able to to sit down and seriously collect my thoughts enough to actually post a blog - was five years ago this November.

November is a monumental month for me. My son was born in November, he announced to to a once close friend of mine that he had memories of them molesting him, and changed the course of all our lives for ever. We had agreed to not press charges, and to just walk away from it. All of us had agreed to not mention any of it to the rest our family and just keep it between us, as it was their word against ours and we did not want to rip the family apart.
(This person was a close family friend.)

Even so, with all these little agreements made, it was revealed to me just last year that the ex best friend told everyone under the sun about it. This discovery too occurred in November, and ended any illusions that they were ever the friend I had thought they had been.

When everything first came out I was in extreme denial. This had to be a dream that he had or something. He got the events confused and it was really someone else who did it, not my best friend. After all, the memory didn't surface until he was 18 years old.

Yet he was able to describe the incident in more detail than I would have ever wanted to hear. He had been wide awake when the memory hit him and it absolutely slammed him in the face.

My son and I were battered inside, and hurting for the same and for different reasons. I had realized that as a protector, I had failed miserably with my firstborn child. As a victim of sexual abuse myself, I had sworn to never let something like that happen to my own kids. Also, it was way too many years from the date of the incident to everything coming out in the open. Statute of limitations were long past, even if we had wanted to prosecute.

I was angry and bitter when I found out last November that I had wasted five years grieving over the whole mess. I can not believe that I ever tried to keep any kind of open mind or that I tried to forgive and remain loyal to the person who wrecked not only my son's life, but mine as well.

So this year, it's all about trying to repair the hurt between my son and I. Somehow, I hope we can move on and leave it all behind us and begin anew as mother and son. A new day.

He hasn't spoken to me much over the past five years, not as much as a normal mom and son should. I know it's been hard for him, and he started a new life as well, got married 2 years ago, etc. No kids yet - and that's fine. But I have not met his wife, or seen him in years. I miss him and hope and pray that he can one day put this all into perspective and forgive me for not realizing what was going on.