Read the whole essay here...I believe I’ve survived baby incest.
You wonder how I could remember something that happened to me before I could walk or talk. I wonder, too. I doubt myself.
I come from a crazy family. Just how crazy we were may never have been known to me if my aunt and uncle had not committed suicide when I was 10. Their children were 10, 8, 5 and 2.
This was not my first clue that I come from crazy people, but at least it was verifiable. It was not every day tragedy happened to middle-class people in a small town in the 1960s. It was unthinkable. And it had happened, right here, to us. To my cousins, now orphans. To my mother and father when my mother stepped into the breach and didn’t have a clue. To my sisters and me when our needs were dwarfed by the needs of my traumatized cousins.
Read the rest of this essay here...
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