Triggers, abuse, and what is my role

I just read this article and it hurt me. It hurt me with it's truth. The idea that maybe I'm brain damaged from the abuse I encountered makes me feel like a victim all over again. I am a victim. I've never stopped being a victim. I have healed some but that doesn't mean I won't always have been a victim. I think in that respect it's like alcoholism. I will always carry this...this violence of what happened to me with me. Will I always be recovering?

I was hugely triggered the other night. I have issues with the word triggered. I haven't decided if I like it or not. I do realize that I can be triggered but are my triggers other people's responsibilities..not really. I can choose to read or see or participate and I know how to walk away and not be a victim again by something that triggers me. Ok, back to my story.

I was at the neighbors that I like house. They aren't perfect...I mean we don't parent the same way but I generally like them and their kids.

This new couple moved in with their kids next door. I met them and didn't particularly care for them. Sometimes was definitely telling me to stay away. When you talk to her, she's a 'one upper'. The neighbors were admiring another neighbors sound system so she said hers was better, she just didn't have it turned up all the way. If you said someone had a nice bike, she would tell you how much hers cost and how nice it was. It's very irritating. Irritating but I could stand it. I've met other people like that.

Anyways, they came to the neighbors house I like house while I was there.  It was fine at first but the more they drank, the worst they got. They told HORRIBLE stories of how they hit their animals and hit their children. Basically bragged about how much they controlled their kids, where their kids weren't allowed in their house, how they punished them...I mean twice she told this story about how her oldest (15) splattered water on her and she punched her and how she only respected her when she hit her. The neighbors I like were giggling saying their parents did that to them so the neighbors I don't like agreed, yes their parents did the same thing. I said I was abused also (I said ABUSED because that is what it fucking is when your parents hit you, tackle you to the ground, pull your hair, slap you....). They couldn't see what happened to them as abuse. What happened to them was ok and it was ok to do that to their children. NOOOOOOOO. Fuck no. Hell no. No. Justifying that behavior is wrong. You were abused. There is power in saying that. There is healing. I am still healing but that simply acknowledgement is healing.

Not only stories about hitting their kids (and I mean repeated stories sometimes telling the same ones over and over) but stories about beating their dogs. Then she started talking about how she got into fights when she was pregnant. This woman...reminded me so much of my Mother. People who are truly badass don't get into fights, they walk away. People who are truly badass don't brag about how badass they are. She was just sad. She talked about her family get togethers and it was my entire childhood brought to light. The violence, the alcohol, the behavior, ....all of it. I swore when I lived through that I would never subject myself or my kids to that again. I walked away while she talked and I came home. I couldn't sit and listen anymore. Later I went back over because I thought maybe the subject had changed...no. They were still going on. Sometimes telling the same stories. Oh, and they were religious. Go to church every Sunday like clockwork. *snort of disgust* I left their house for good and decided I am so done with them.

Foy came home later and I was silent. He said, 'Well, um, that was, um, interesting.' which started a tirade of obscenities from me about how what they are doing is NOT ok. My kids aren't subjected to that and our relationship is one of partnership and peace. My household is peaceful.

These kids love my house. They spend quite a bit of time over here. I think it's because I like kids. I accept them as equals. I don't have a lot of rules or arbitrary guidelines. I'm calm.

The next morning at UU I battled with myself. I hate CPS. I use to say I would never call them, or I wouldn't without a really good cause. I use to say I would try to fix it myself or help the people. I can't. What can I do? If I stay silent, am I not as guilty as every person who stayed silent while I endured abuse? Those children are me. I am those children. It's still a battle, a weight I am carrying around, this knowledge.