The Unrecognized Cycle of Abuse

I remember when I first really
looked at my nephew and niece
and I thought of my pain,
my shame
my hurt…

The pain that my sister had felt,
or so I imagined…
when I was so far away,
at College…

Her friends had said next time…
next time, they would have
to go tell someone -
and I felt ashamed.

I could do nothing,
say nothing.

How did this keep happening?
this cycle of abuse?
and if I spoke to Mom and Dad,
would she think that I was not on her side?
would she think I didn’t care or that
this didn’t hurt me?

I was no longer the teenage boy
who thought that he had to do
whatever it took
to get her, my sister,
to respect me.

And I wanted her to know this,
that I was no longer that teenage boy,
which she probably already knew.
I knew that respect was earned,
not created out of force.

But this cycle could continue…
I could see that in my niece’s eyes
and her words to me -
her pleas to come home to me,
which I knew was impossible,

Yet, I knew what I wanted,
when I was growing up,
someone to do something…
to make it stop.

My grandparents who died
when I was too young,
they’d left me, back when I
was still a little boy.

No one seemed to notice that anything
was wrong.  No one cared
or worried about how
my nephew and niece would feel…

No, it was much easier
to see the problem was just with me…
Everyone had moved on,
forgotten the past,
put it behind us…
let go of grudges.

Everyone in the family, was all just fine,
except for me.

I was the one with problems –
or so went the family’s general
wisdom of things.

I was told that my nephew and niece
did not need an uncle like me…
wait, I wanted to say…
I was just doing trying to be,
for my nephew and niece,
what that little boy within me -
the inner-child,
within the adult -
needed:
someone to try to protect
and make the abuse – the hurt -
the anger within –
stop.

That’s what I was doing,
when I spoke to that social services
agency,
about the cycle of abuse.

Bruce Whealton 2009