“Go to dad, he will treat you”: my stepfather wanted me

SOMETIMES VIOLENCE HAPPENS IN SUCH VOILED FORM, as words to pick up is difficult. A person may suffer for years, but hesitant to declare that he has been a victim of violence: it seems to him that he has little evidence, and the aggressors are vested with power. The situation is aggravated if the surrounding people are told to the person that nothing happened to him. Our heroine Marina (the name is changed at her request) tells how the family convinced her that she had invented a story about her stepfathers harassment.

Julia Dudkina

"Dad will treat you"

I was born in Kalmykia. Our family did not belong to any of the religious teachings, but at the same time belonged to all at once. For example, in childhood my grandmother took me to the Orthodox Church and ordered me to kiss icons and repent for sins. And when I was five or six years old, I had a stepfather who was a shaman. He treated people with mantras and touches — usually his friends or relatives. When my head ached or I was not feeling well, my mother always said: "Go to dad, he will treat you."

Stepfather has always been a silent, closed man. In the family, everyone knew that his past was connected with crime - he was the leader of a street gang. He liked to repeat: “Afraid is respected.” Sometimes, when he was in a good mood, he told how he dipped influential people with his head in the toilet. She and her mother laughed at these stories, and I, too - it seemed to me that once adults are having fun, it means that this is really funny.

It is believed that people who have experienced something very difficult become shamans. In their youth, they suffer greatly, then for some time they "twist" - they can do strange things, get involved in something, go crazy. And then the gift comes to them: they have the ability to clairvoyance and healing. Stepfather was born in a large family, but all his brothers and sisters died. It seems he told me that he lived on the street for a while. In the family, it was believed that his criminal past was some kind of mandatory phase that he had experienced in order to become a healer. But now he is another, "good" person. Everyone behaved as if there was a special halo around him - they said that thanks to the gift of clairvoyance he sees a lot of suffering in the world, but does not know what kind of people they are experiencing and cannot help them. It was believed that from this he suffers greatly. Personally, I did not treat him either good or bad - I just accepted him as he was. Just as I took everything that happened in our family.

“Healing” happened like this: my stepfather and I went to the parents' bedroom and closed the door. I sat opposite him, and he read mantras, moved his hands around my head and shoulders, sometimes he touched lightly. Periodically asked: "Feel warm?" Then, probably, it seemed to me that I felt something. Many people believed in shamanism around me, and I did not question the stepfather's rituals. But I also don’t remember any particularly strong effect from these procedures. Sometimes, if I had a headache, after the ritual she really passed. But, on the other hand, it always passes sooner or later. Maybe it was not a miraculous healing.

When I was in my teens, my stepfather began to “treat” me somehow differently. Now he spent his hands not only on the shoulders, but throughout my body. He touched his chest, crawled his hands under the clothes. I never understood: what he does - is it normal or not? All his actions were very obscure: it is impossible to say that he would grab my chest with his hands or openly solicit. Probably, in that case, I would find how to react. But he just touched me - stroked, touched his nipples - as if it were part of a ceremony. Sometimes I gently pushed him away with my hands. But I never said anything. I was embarrassed to talk about what was happening out loud. This went on for several years - two or three times a month.

Now I remember that time, and my own behavior surprises me. I did not analyze what was happening, did not try to understand why my stepfather does this. When the "healing session" ended, I went back to my business or went to bed. Not scrolling in my head what happened, did not reflect. As if my mind was blocking this information. Stepfather after the rites behaved as if nothing had happened, and sometimes it seemed to me that I was going insane. I thought: maybe it seemed to me that something was wrong? Maybe he did not notice how he touched me in an intimate place? Or maybe it should be a rite and I do not understand something?

Sometimes I gently pushed him away with my hands. But I never said anything. I was embarrassed to talk about what was happening out loud

Once I mentioned what happened in a conversation with my mother. I did not want to complain to her about my stepfather, I just decided to tell about what surprised me - maybe she would have dispelled my doubts. But she replied: “This is a very serious accusation. Are you sure that this is true? Didn’t you see it? Maybe you thought something up for yourself?” She began to hint that if I speak the truth, then this story may end in divorce. It turned out as if the responsibility for their relationship lies with me. For some reason I felt ashamed because I told her everything. In the end, I agreed with her: "Yes, I guess it seemed to me."

Since childhood, I was told that my own father was cheating on my mother while she was pregnant with me. He was spoken of as a terrible person, and his mother was pitiful - grandmother and grandfather believed that after the divorce she was very unhappy. Now, when they hinted to me that I could cause a rift with her new man, I went backwards. After that conversation, I no longer mentioned the stepfather's strange behavior. Mom didn't say that either. It was a feature of our family: after any conflict or difficult conversation, everyone pretended that nothing had happened. We did not discuss the problems, did not pay attention to them. Conflicts were not resolved and not pronounced - just everyone behaved as if everything was as usual. I felt awkward, tense. But these were the rules, and I could not break them.

The more time passed after my confession, the more I convinced myself that my stepfather's actions meant nothing. It seemed to me: since mom didn’t worry, didn’t do anything, it means that nothing serious happens. I guess I'm really exaggerating. He continued to touch my chest, but the case still never reached outright harassment. On holidays, when we all congratulated and took turns hugging each other, he wrapped his hands around my buttocks and held me close. But, as in the other cases, I could not understand whether something strange really happened or something I did not understand.

It seems to me that my childhood had blurred my personal boundaries. Mom always decided for me how to dress, how to behave, what to say at the table. Naturally, in something I eventually began to believe her almost more than myself. However, I never understood her. We often quarreled, and even when I cried and screamed, she only looked at me and smirked. I could never share with her feelings, something personal. This was not accepted in our family. Once in kindergarten, I kissed a boy on a dispute, and my mother beat me for it. Although she later claimed that this was not and she just scolded me. Anyway, after that incident, I tried not to talk too much.

Our family was also quite closed. I had no friends: I was told that my classmates and classmates were prostitutes or spoiled children from rich families. From home I went to school, then to art, and then home again. Never walked in the yard. It was believed that in our family everything is always right and good, and people outside our family live somehow “not so”. Parents condemned everyone around, and I, too, followed them. It is not surprising that it seemed to me that what my stepfather was doing was normal. After all, nothing strange can happen in our house. Moreover, because of this social isolation, I had absolutely no one to discuss my concerns with. So the easiest thing was not to think about them.

"Why are you telling this?"

Healing ended when, at sixteen, I won a grant and went abroad to study for a year. Far from my family, I suddenly felt free. To my surprise, I did not miss either mom or stepfather. It turned out that without them I can do so many interesting things: communicate with people, play sports, volunteer. When I returned, our relationship became strained. They seemed annoyed that I had my own interests, some kind of self-confidence. When I expressed my opinion, which they didn’t like, they said: "You picked it up in the West, fooling your head."

I used to think that my mother and stepfather are very different. He is a welder with a criminal past. She comes from a wealthy, intelligent family. Now I began to realize that they are actually similar. They both liked to control people, to feel power. Having traveled abroad, I managed to weaken this control, and the balance was disturbed. A year later I went to study in another city and left.

For a long time, I stopped thinking about the oddities that occurred during the rituals of "healing." I started a new life. I met with guys, I had a lot of friends. True, there was no real emotional intimacy with anyone, the relationship was rather superficial. But life was in full swing: I never left alone, and only came home to sleep. Already, I realize that I was afraid to be alone with myself. Many of my friends read books or watched TV shows. But I didn’t do it, because for such hobbies you usually need to be alone, but for me it was unbearable.

In the summer of 2018, I fell in love for the first time in my life. This I have never felt before. But my love was unrequited. I had a serious psychological crisis, and I suddenly alienated myself from people. I spent three months at home, thinking about my life, digging into myself. Memories suddenly began to pop up in my head: what my stepfather was doing was taking shape for the first time, became bright. Thoughts about this began to literally haunt me. I finally began to clearly understand: what was happening was not normal, and it still affects me and my life. It was around this time that I heard about the #MeToo flash mob, and for the first time in my life I wanted to take part in a mass rally. I suddenly felt that it was very important for me.

I told my story on Facebook. Many began to support me, to write that I was a good fellow. But soon my mother's friend called. As soon as I picked up the phone, she began to shout at me: "How can you throw out dirty laundry in front of everyone?" As if the story itself was not impressed - only that I told her was scary.

Thoughts about this began to literally haunt me. I began to clearly understand: what was happening was not normal, and it still affects me and my life

Then my relatives learned about my post. The fact is that I have a younger brother - the son of a mother and stepfather. That summer, when an understanding of what happened suddenly fell upon me, I was very alarmed and depressed. Because of this, I did things faster than I could think them over. I began to worry: what if something like this happened to my brother? I called him to find out if everything was alright with him. Word for word, and I told him about my stepfather. He replied: "What are you, stupid? Why are you telling me all this?"

Of course, he recounted our conversation to mom. She called, said she did not believe me. Then she began to accuse: "If this is true, then why did you not tell me before?" I reminded her that I tried to discuss this question many years ago, but she denied everything, said that I was talking nonsense. Then the rhetoric changed. Mom began to say: "Even if we admit that it really was, why remember this now, after so many years?" We once again had a fight, and the next time she called me herself and talked to me as if there was no conflict.

Just like in childhood, I was looking for someone to discuss my situation with, but I did not find. I tried to talk to my grandmother. But she shamed me: they say, I can’t even imagine what serious problems other people have. She added: "We do not tell you about all our difficulties."

In the fall I began to panic attacks. In addition, due to stress, I began to abuse marijuana. This made my condition even worse. When I rode the subway, it seemed to me that every passerby wanted to rape me. I also had the feeling that people were reading my mind. I started having paranoid ideas: as if my stepfather could control all my acquaintances. It seemed to me that he could harm me even from a distance. As if he was some kind of powerful evil wizard who came to me in a dream, and he saw each other in reality. I began to see signs, signs in everything. Hit in esoterica. At times it seemed to me that I was just losing my mind.

The post, which I wrote on Facebook, I finally deleted. After my relatives were ashamed, I began to feel as if I had let them down with my record. They live in a small town and care very much about their reputation. It seemed that I was a traitor. I convinced myself: the events from my childhood are only part of the story. I do not know everything. You can not condemn stepfather. Besides, the thought that he would do something with me did not leave me.

"Did you believe in yourself?"

In November, I came to my hometown to visit my family. As usual, at first everyone pretended that there was no Facebook post. But it annoyed me: I wanted to raise this topic, understand, speak out. Therefore, from the very beginning I seemed to be in trouble. We began to argue because of domestic issues, at some point my stepfather began to swear loudly. I shouted back: "You make yourself a saint, and you paw me!" After these words, he grabbed my neck and started hitting my head against the wall. He was joined by a brother. He shouted: "What, you believed in yourself? You p *** t!" Mom looked at it and smirked, as usual.

Family scandal lasted until the morning. Then I got on the first bus and left. Already on the road, I calmed down. It felt as if something was turning over in me. I suddenly began to understand: I do not need to try to find out from my mother and stepfather why they did this to me. No need to look for logic in their actions. The problem is not in me, but in them. All this time I was not crazy, did not invent something that does not exist. They just tried to convince me.

All my childhood I lived in a strange world: there were certain rules of the game in it and I never reasoned logically, did not ask myself questions. But now I can no longer play this game. When I returned home and went down to the subway, I realized that my delusion had disappeared. I no longer thought people wanted to rape me. I realized that they do not care about me. The world has regained its usual, realistic outlines.

Now I do not communicate with my mother. Sometimes she calls me, but as a rule, I do not pick up the phone. I know - if we start to communicate, she will again pretend that neither those conversations, nor our quarrel was not. And I no longer want to pretend.

Photo: johannes - stock.adobe.com, Yuliya - stock.adobe.com (1, 2, 3), Dmitry - stock.adobe.com

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