Son Confesses Sexual Abuse to Mother

Late afternoon.

On the bathroom seat.

I confessed sexual abuse to mother.

Incensed, she asked "Why didn't you tell me?"

Aside from reporting a male babysitter, this was the first time I'd mentioned names and places.

The inclusion of her two sons in my hall of shame seemed to matter little.


On the spot, I blamed it on the surprise effect.

I, now, think she blindly accepts anything her sons do — except me. She did curse the hell out of the culprits after all, minus her sons.

Many emotions attended the party on mom's face.

Stupor at hearing names of married neighbors she took for saints. Disgust at how they lured kids. Heart wrench over neighbors my age abused.

Sadness for her own child's body and soul was a no-show.

Pleading guilty for the charge of absenteeism could have been palpable if mom were strong enough to admit faulting and try to repair the carcass.

But mother has never been strong.

All that rage, yelling and steely facade were tailor made to intimidate me.

If my child cited my absence as cause of his molestation, I'd be humbled.

But, mother has never been a responsible parent.

She cowardly faked amnesia.

But I reminded her, in detail, how she had caught me after the act, once.

Despite many Aha's, no innate motherly instinct to protect the flesh of her flesh transpired. She let out a halfhearted "Wanna see a shrink?" before pouring water for Pontius Pilate to wash his hands of her son's crucifixion.

A virulent fight, triggered by truth seeking to come out, occurred prior.

Mom had sort of gone back to school and her year-end project happened to be about "Abuse in and outside of Schools." Ironic?

I Googled a chart detailing child abuse consequences.

Right there, I understood why I unknowingly encompassed those traits!

Swallowing my tears while rereading, mom came in to launch yet another gratuitous and degrading attack. Right then, I demanded that she no longer belittle me like that. Blames were exchanged, many accusations denied and a week had passed before I divulged my aversion to her tyranny.

I was in the bathroom but, for the first time, my head wasn't down the seat.