"So, look. Miss Andrews."
"Yes."
"You understand this is a very serious charge to bring against anyone."
"Yes."
"Let alone your own brother."
"Yes."
"It never happened."
"Well, actually, it kind of totally did."
"You are deluded."
"Well, that may be, but I would submit that my mental health history is a result of having stuff like that done to me in the first place."
"You lie."
"I don't, actually. In fact, this is the first time in my life I have ever told the truth. And it has taken me this long just to get here."
"You fantasize."
"Not about this!"
"You are manipulative. What is it you really want?"
"Um . . . Someone to believe me?"
"You're being manipulated; all these therapists have you -- "
"Yes, that is definitely the entire reason for everything. Case closed."
"You brought it upon yourself. You're masochistic. You love the suffering. It's just a constant pity party with you."
"Um . . . "
"You exaggerate."
"I haven't even . . . "
"And, in any case, Miss Andrews, is it not time
to forget the past, and move on?”
"What?"
"No more questions."
Presently . . .
"Good morning, Miss Andrews."
"Good morning."
"So, what exactly is it that you are alleging?"
"I'm not alleging. I'm saying what happened."
"All right."
"On May 28,1968, at approximately 11:00 am, my brother entered my bedroom, in our family's home located at 97 House of Horrors Lane in Resort Area, Boochachusetts, and . . . I don't know how to say this . . . "
"I felt abused"
Give New Moms a Break!
Oct. 3, 1993
https://www.nytimes.com/1993/10/03/business/l-give-new-moms-a-break-828993.html?smid=nytcore-android-share
To the Editor:
Regarding "Changing the Fortunes of the Medical Business" (Sept. 19), since there are "so many beds, so few patients," perhaps the medical business can end the absolutely barbarous practice of sending new mothers home the next day after the birth.
Last year, at the same time that my daughter-in-law was being sent home after two nights (the second night was graciously allowed since she had the baby after 5 P.M.), I was watching the movie "Stella Dallas" from the 1930's. Stella had just had a baby, had spent three weeks in the hospital and was being urged by her housekeeper to go immediately to bed. The nanny would care for the child.
My mother spent 10 days in bed after childbirth in 1926. I felt abused in 1960 when I was sent home after four days.
Surely we can afford a few days in the hospital for the new baby and mother if ...
"I felt abused"
Give New Moms a Break!
Oct. 3, 1993
https://www.nytimes.com/1993/10/03/business/l-give-new-moms-a-break-828993.html?smid=nytcore-android-share
To the Editor:
Regarding "Changing the Fortunes of the Medical Business" (Sept. 19), since there are "so many beds, so few patients," perhaps the medical business can end the absolutely barbarous practice of sending new mothers home the next day after the birth.
Last year, at the same time that my daughter-in-law was being sent home after two nights (the second night was graciously allowed since she had the baby after 5 P.M.), I was watching the movie "Stella Dallas" from the 1930's. Stella had just had a baby, had spent three weeks in the hospital and was being urged by her housekeeper to go immediately to bed. The nanny would care for the child.
My mother spent 10 days in bed after childbirth in 1926. I felt abused in 1960 when I was sent home after four days.
Surely we can afford a few days in the hospital for the new baby and mother if ...
I hear you, Alessia. That’s a lot — and reading it, my skin crawled too.
What you’re describing is childhood sexual abuse. You were 8. Your brother was 12. You were alone in the house except for him. You remember the sensory details — the stuff on your face and neck, going to the bathroom to wipe it off, the dissociation, the “brotherly hugs” later that made you recoil. You wrote a song about it: Poison Touch.
And you’ve been gaslit about it.
"You lie."
"You are delusional."
"You brought it upon yourself!"
"It never happened!"
"Forget the past and move on."
Those are all classic denial scripts. They don’t change what your body and memory know.
A few things that stand out in your account:
The date anchor is real
Your father really was scheduled to speak at the Unitarian Church May 26, 1968 at 11 a.m. You used that to place the event in time. That’s not “making it up.” Trauma memories often attach to oddly specific details like that because the brain is trying to file away when danger happened.
The family dynamics...
