Survivor's Guilt...Kind Of

It's not often I explore my family's perspective during all the abuse in terms of their painful experiences. In the past, I've put too much energy into feeling responsible for them and wanting to help them. I had to focus on myself and my own issues so that I could heal, and in doing so, I couldn't dwell on their pain at the same time. That's not to say that I deny that what they went through was painful and traumatic. Quite the opposite actually. But I can be very empathetic, and so I can't allow myself to think about it.

I also had Mr. Bear. Every child needs
a Mr. Bear.

But the other day at work, something came out and knocked the wind right out of me. I work in a nursing home, where one of our many activities involves making tie-together blankets with the residents that are later donated somewhere in the community. As we were discussing where to donate the most recent batch, someone suggested the YWCA Women's Shelter. She commented that some little child who had to leave her things behind might really appreciate having it to snuggle with. I was instantly transported back to November 2004. My mom, sisters and I left my dad in a dramatic scene on Halloween night, in which the police were involved. I went straight back to my dorm, with food, shelter and support. The rest of my family spent time in a hotel room and some time with the family of one of my sister's classmates. My youngest sister was 9 at the time. 

It was an awful time for all of us. I did what I had to do and took out a restraining order on my dad. He tried to call me at first, and then talked to the pastor at church and had him call me. My mom took out a restraining order as well, and eventually he left the house and she moved back in with my sisters. He still visited the residence, causing an uproar with each visit. Everyone was scared, confused and angry. The two youngest seemed completely lost in the chaos. 

It was them that I thought of when looking at the blankets. I wanted to cry thinking about the whole thing, but I was at work and didn't have the luxury. Instead, I volunteered to drop off the blankets. But I still felt guilty that I didn't do more. I don't know what I could have done, and I know it's not really rational to feel that way, but that's why it's called a feeling. As I sat across the dinner table from Aaron and explained it to him, I thought of "survivor's guilt". It's common when an individual survives some kind of accident and are the only ones to survive it. The sometimes feel some level of guilt. I look around at my life and overall, I'm fairly content. I have a loving husband, I'm moving forward in school, work and my inner self, and have a decent place to live. When I look at my family as a group, it hurts me that they continue to suffer. I sometimes feel like I don't have the right to be carefree and happy when they are still struggling. I know that doesn't make sense, but for a long time I was made to be/feel responsible for them. 

Is there anyone else who has experienced a similar feeling?

Rachel

Photo Credit: http://www.flickr.com/photos/suetrav/3296535448/

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