Speechless.
Newspaper rang me to day for a comment on my brother's being accused of raping his two teenaged step-daughters.
What the bloody hell could I say to any of that? ANY of it?
Why do I seem to be so much more concerned with my being incapable of putting into words my feelings about this "journalist's" conduct than anything else about it? Than feeling for the girls, than what this news does to my perspective on my recently recalled history of frequently violent sexual abuse from my brother, mother, and father?
Does there really have to be more suffering for me to consolidate more slivers of the possible truth of my life?
What the bloody hell could I say to any of that? ANY of it?
Why do I seem to be so much more concerned with my being incapable of putting into words my feelings about this "journalist's" conduct than anything else about it? Than feeling for the girls, than what this news does to my perspective on my recently recalled history of frequently violent sexual abuse from my brother, mother, and father?
Does there really have to be more suffering for me to consolidate more slivers of the possible truth of my life?