Learning very recently that a very dear friend from childhood had been the victim of incest starting at twelve years old with the mother blaming her and defending the abuser left me totally dumbfounded. Once the shock of the news faded, disappointment and sadness set in. I have known P since childhood and I consider her among my closest friends, yet I did not know this until now. I questioned the very foundation of our relationship. Maybe something would have been different in her life had I known when this first started, maybe she did not consider me worthy of sharing such intensely painful and private information.
In the months and weeks after she told me, I replayed scenes from childhood to the present in my head many times, filled with guilt. Not only had I failed to be there for her for decades, I was oblivious to my failings as a friend. I am trying harder than ever to do right by her without treading on this topic which was clearly very difficult for her to talk about with me. I used to think I was a chronic over-sharer with P - she knows a lot about me that few other people in the world do. I felt safe and comfortable telling. Clearly that feeling was not reciprocated - at least not when it mattered, for what made her feel the most vulnerable.
This is not my first childhood friend that has spoken about sexual abuse by a close family member. Each time once I was told, the pieces of the puzzle began to fit about the person. They were working to build a carapace around this unrelenting pain and that manifested itself in how they lived, their challenges in intimate relationships and ability to trust in general. The problem runs deep in India and the greatest tragedy of all is that the parents of the victim are complicit - they blame the victim, hide behind lies and subterfuge hoping that ignoring what is happening will make it go away. It does not help that some types of incest are not illegal in India
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