i had to replace my dvr yesterday. ever since hurricane ike it has been humming all day and all night long. it would have been alright but the pitch was off. i like music but this was just noise. So as much as i hated to do it, i sat in the car and waited while my husband stood in line for an hour at our local cable company for a new box.
well, once you get the thing home, a new box means you have to go through the entire ordeal of reprogramming all your favorites.
right, so again, more waiting...
anywho, it was finally my turn for the remote. i'm going through the guide, searching for my shows; bones, fringe, csi, dexter, chuck, etc...
you know the drill. it does take a bit of time. well, while i was scrolling through the menus my husband became involved in this show; intervention. i've seen a few episodes of this program before, watched it with my son, didn't care for it much.
but it was too late for me to flip the channel.
it started out ok, some young guy, wealthy parents, he drank too much...
but the second story was horrific. a beautiful young woman in pre-law, great gpa, brilliant future ahead, hooked up with the wrong guy and started using inhalants.
i knew the story. i knew the 'why' before the narrator finished the introductions. the family photos gave it away, plus the long list of her symptoms. drug abuse, loose reckless relationships with older men, she was a cutter....
i knew in those first few minutes of the program that i should have just gotten up and walked away. i should have gone into my room, taken a shower, gotten ready for bed. something, anything other than to just sit there and watch this young woman's story on what led her down the path to rock bottom.
i knew, fuck me, i knew.
so, why did i sit and watch her?
as usual, i had to prove to myself i was strong. i had to know i could sit and watch some stranger dealing with similar issues i've been struggling to overcome my entire life.
i refused to crumble, i didn't break, and i only allowed two maybe three tears to escape throughout the entire story. bully for me.
it was horrific.
all the shit i remember. comparing the strangers life and family to mine. comparing her sisters to mine. her relationships to mine. at one point in the show i wanted to scream at the woman for being so weak.
which is absolutely heartless of me.
but i understood completely, i knew why she chose to exist the way she was.
after all, it could have been me.
i could have been a drug addicted, rage filled, mother hating, self abusive cutter, sugar daddy boarder-line hooker girl.
that would have been easy, to fall into that lifestyle, let myself drop to the ground, kicking and screaming, and just give up on everything.
i fight that feeling all the time.
i'm still fighting it.
i want drugs, now, today.
just give me any fucking thing to make the memories go away.
but i can't.
i'm to old and fat to become an drug addicted hooker now. i let myself go. don't have that hot body i once had.
besides, what would my future grandchildren think?
see, that attitude has been both my blessing and my curse. i have worried endless what the world would think, say, react, and or respond to my words and actions.
the ugly truth
the young woman on intervention, she was sexually molested as a child by a male family member. she watched her sister being molested by the same male relative. she told her mother. her mother didn't believe her at first. she told her grandmother , her uncle, enough family members until the secret was out. they went through a long ugly court trail. they lost. the male family member walked away clean. the trial divided the family, half believed the children, half did not. they never said who the male was, probable could not legally say on national television. the little girls grew up and became the stars of an episode on intervention.
why is it that the abuser walks away to abuse another day while the child victim is sentenced 20 years to life...