Lot’s af growth, and lots of suppressed trauma, and bad memories for my wife the last couple of weeks. It has been really hard for her, but also very rewarding in the last few days.
The A3 High School Principal Sex Scandal finally caught up with her this week. A private Investigator for the victim finally got in touch with us. Raya was there, and though not a victim, per se, she did have to contend with inappropriate behavior from the man. behavior that she hadn’t realized was inappropriate at the time, but in retrospect, is glaring, and thus led her to a mass of guilt for not seeing it, not picking up the clues her friend was leaving out there for her.
She knows it isn’t her fault, that no one is blaming her, but still, she is angry at herself, and feels awful for her friend, feels awful for giving the Rapo so much credit and adoration. She feels completely betrayed, by him, by the high school, by the Springfield School District.
Just as this emotional roller coaster was coming to a stop, was calming down to her acceptance that none of this was her fault, and that the best thing she could do for her friend was what she did. She told the investigator everything she knew, my genealogy obsession came around, with an emotional wave of it’s own.
My wife’s dysfunctional childhood, abandoned at birth by her father, and her mother’s unrepentant, alcoholic narcissism, has really led her to not have anything to do with her biological family at all. She has been disappointed so often, that she simply couldn’t take anymore, had really shut them out, and was OK with never knowing them at all.
But she married a man who had spent his entire adult life searching for his father’s biological father. Had been, to be truthful, unhealthily obsessed with the search, for his true last name, and an explanation for his dark skin. A man who had vowed that his kids would not be ignorant of their origins, as he had been. That his kids would have an answer they could take pride in, when they were questioned, or attacked, for the color of their skin, or the curl in their hair. An answer better than, “I don’t know, gramma was a Ho”.
As a result, I have spent 8 years encouraging her to give more distant family a chance. To try a see if their weren’t family members out there that weren’t wastes of skin, total shit bags. I reasoned, they can’t be all bad, that there had to be some good out there. I never pushed too hard, but I have been consistent, and had permission to seek some of them out, to find them. Maybe not contact them, but find them.
I found her Aunt and Uncle, siblings to her mom. She told me I could reach out to them, for the sake of our kids, but that she wanted nothing to do with them. So I slowed down, but eventually, her uncle reached out, my queries were out there, on social media, and he got in touch with me.
She even relented, decided she wanted to give him a chance, to give him a chance tio tell his side of the story. Tell his version of the events, if for no other reason than to get the truth out of all of her mothers lies. And he really fucked it up.
He was honest, to a point, at least about the childhood horror stories. He gave us reference and the ability to cut thru Her Mom’s lies, to get a better idea of what the truth was. Unfortunately, he was not as truthful about his own story, about his own weaknesses. As a result, she had every reason to question everything he said, to doubt him, even when he was telling the truth. As she herself was a victim of child abuse, emotional, physical and sexual, his les about his own problems abusing children, is unforgivable. More so, because we have kids, and simply CANNOT, in good conscience, subject our children to even the remotest chance, of him victimizing them.
So another bridge to her heritage and family was burned. When her Aunt got in touch with us last week, she almost wouldn’t let me reply. She was just too worn down by the disappointment, but said I could answer, she wasn’t going to.
So I did, and got the rest of the story. 4 days later, we got a 50 lb fedex package, with all of Raya and her sisters childhood pictures. Photo albums, school projects, her entire childhood. Now Raya thought this stuff had been lost forever, abandoned by her mother, and, she thought, certainly thrown away by her Aunt by now. But it hadn’t been. Her Aunt had saved the stuff for more than 15 years, always hoping that someday one of the girls would find her, so she could give them, what she had managed to save.
This has led to a nurturing, loving, phone calls every other day relationship. My wife now has corroboration of the horror stories of her childhood, and corroboration of how much of a piece of shit her mom really was.
She also, now has an Aunty-Mom, that loves her dearly, and can’t wait to see us! Turns out she only lives a couple of hours away, North of us in Arizona. We are working out the details of a meeting. given both our cars are broken down right now, we can’t just hop in the car, or believe me, it would have already happened. We are working on it though.
Worst case scenario, when we get packed up to move back to Oregon, we will stop for a day or two there, turns out she lives on the route we were planning on taking anyhow. She is between us and the Grand Canyon, which was definitely on our list of things to see before we left Arizona. Maybe, just maybe, we can talk them into going with us, to the Canyon, we shall see.
Weird how things work out… right?