I am ashamed that this woman never held her father accountable for his actions. Her weakness is unbelievable.

"I am ashamed that this woman never held her father accountable for his actions. Her weakness is unbelievable."

So wrote a "reviewer" of my book, "No Tears for my Father" Based on that 2-line review, she gave the book a 2-star rating. If I were this "reviewer", I would be ashamed of being listed as a "reviewer". This is not how one reviews or ranks a book.

But far more important than that aspect is this one: I would be ashamed of being so judgemental. Has this person suffered childhood sexual abuse herself? Was her abuser her father? If not, how can she possibly understand the fear of a child who has been raised with physical, mental and sexual abuse? How can she understand the conflict between being abused all of her young life by a parent. Not a stranger. But a parent. Not a neighbour. A member of the family. How can she understand the long-reaching ramifications of bringing such ugliness into the extended family's life? Of the fear of not getting the justice she seeks, a justice so often denied victims in the courts? Of the fear of the abuser coming back to abuse more and even worse if the attempt to hold him accountable fails and the story has been aired far and wide.

Why did those women allegedly abused by Billy Cosby or those boys victimized by Sir Edward Heath so many years ago wait till now to speak up? Why do so many victims remain silent for so long, sometimes dying with their secret untold? Are we ALL weak? Is the reviewer above ashamed for all of us then? Oh wait. No, she's just ashamed of me because these victims have all spoken up NOW,  while these public figures are alive and can be investigated and possibly made to account for their actions? My abuser is dead. No accountability there. I let him get away with it.

Perhaps. But again, there's one huge difference between all of them and me, and all the other victims of incest who choose to remain silent: the Cosby and Heath victims weren't molested or raped daily by their own fathers. Guess what Miss or Mrs Reviewer: there is a difference here!

Regardless of what a parent does to a child, or even what a child does to a parent, there is that bond, a loyalty, or whatever you want to call it, that holds children back from ratting on a parent, just as so many parents can't hate a child who turns into a murderer. We all know what happened is wrong, but something holds us back. There is also that bond between mother and child that keeps that child from telling mommy about the bad that daddy is doing, especially when daddy has brainwashed you to believe no-one will believe you anyway. I've heard from hundreds of victims whose families have cast them out for telling lies about their father. No wonder victims choose to stay silent.

Just like I did. I elected to put up with the abuse, to die with it if necessary, rather than tell on daddy or hurt mommy. And that makes me "weak" as far as this "reviewer" is concerned.

I also elected to keep it all secret from my new family: my husband and my children, as I couldn't see how telling what happened while my father was still alive could possibly benefit me or my family. Instead, it could have torn us apart. My husband might have killed my father on learning the truth. Would he then deserve to go to jail for killing my abuser? And what of my children and their grandmother had they learned the truth while my father was still alive? How could blowing this all open while my father was alive benefit those I loved more than myself? Their happiness mattered more to me than me. Yep. I'm weak...if that's how one defines weakness.

I chose to tell my story when I was ready and when my family were ready for me to share it. I shared it to help others who needed to know they are not alone. I spoke up for the voiceless who may take as many years, or even more to speak up for themselves or to hold their abusers accountable.

And I stand up for all the other "weak" victims of incest like me.  In your "weakness", in your silence, in your willingness to suffer so others may be happy, you are incredibly strong. I am proud, not ashamed, to stand with you.

©Viga Boland
Author of "No Tears for my Father", a memoir of incest.
Author of "Learning to Love Myself", a memoir of recovery after incest.
Editor of Memoirabilia, a magazine for memoir writers.

VICTIMS of #INCEST or #ABUSE of ANY KIND HELP THEMSELVES HEAL THROUGH #WRITING and/or #JOURNALING

After writing and publishing my own true story of #incest, "No Tears for my Father", I began mentoring memoir writing groups for my local library. This most rewarding volunteer position brought me, and the participants, a few surprises, the biggest being what many of the members were experiencing as they completed various writing exercises I assigned: they found what they were doing ... writing ... was therapeutic!

Of course, I'd known writing was therapeutic since I was a teen: in my unhappiness,  I'd begun penning poems and writing songs that captured my angst and heartache, and in doing so, I often found release for my pain and bottled up rage. I had no-one to talk to about the incest. But putting what I was feeling down on paper somehow helped.

And now, the members of my memoir group, even those who hadn't necessary come into the group to write about trauma or personal tragedy, found that as they recalled their past, remembered things about their childhood, even incidences like feeling awkward at puberty, or their first crush, were finding that writing about these things was "freeing". They realized that even now as adults, some of their present insecurities and hangups harked back to those earlier days. Writing about them now brought them face to face with some issues they still have trouble dealing with day to day in their personal lives and careers. And hence came the realization for them all that writing is utterly therapeutic, because, as Adair Lara once stated:

“When you pin your misfortune to a page, you rob it of its power. You begin to get distance from an event the moment you write it down. Even the most intimate and horrendous details of your life become transformed into material”

That misfortune could be something as current as losing a job you've worked years to get, or saving money for a trip only to have to use it to fix a leaking roof. It doesn't have to be something as horrendous as incest or rape, but when it is, then the therapeutic nature of writing becomes incredibly healing.

One of the members of my memoir writing group had always been a writer, but she only wrote fiction. Suddenly, in the memoir class,  with every exercise, her past surfaced so strongly she couldn't stop writing about it.  It was she who first said to us all, "I'm finding these sessions, the writing, the exercises are therapeutic," and everyone agreed. This same discovery was made by the authors of that famous book, which I highly recommend for those wanting and needing to heal, THE COURAGE TO HEAL.  They point out again and again how therapeutic it is to write your pain onto the page. 

Have you tried writing your pain on a page yet? Try it! Try it the next time you have a flashback that knocks the wind out of you. Or the next time you hear your abuser's words mocking you, frightening you, reducing you to a blubbering mass of tears. Wipe away the tears by writing down everything that is on your mind, all the tortuous thoughts. You don't have to share it with anyone. This is just for you.

And as my memoir member recently wrote on our writers group page at Facebook:

"Vomit flows freely from my past, cleansing the depth of my soul at last."

Let this happen to you. Heal yourself through writing and/or journalling.

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Did you know you can read excerpts from "No Tears for my Father" for FREE? Just click on the book title to read some sample chapters now!

Purchase your signed, printed version of NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER directly from the author, Viga Boland.

EVERYBODY'S GOT A STORY. THIS IS MINE.

The sunset of life is more precious than gold
Enriched with the stories yet to be told
(Viga Boland, 2012)

Is it wise to post and publish your life,  memories, secrets online? Probably not. As  is becoming all too apparent, too many people know too much about us already in the instant news world of today.


So why on earth share memoirs in a place so public as a blog? Because, in my case, time is running out. How much time is left to write that story that began 66 years ago? While I'm not rich and will never be famous, there are some folks in my life who do care about how I evolved into who I am today and would like to read my story. So just in case I never finish the full memoir I am currently writing, this blog will provide some snippets of what to expect if and when that memoir does get finished in time.


Now, as my WARNING above states: some readers may find sections of this blog disturbing, even shocking. That's because it's the truth and the truth isn't always nice. But other sections may bring a smile to your face. You may recognize a bit of yourself in my story, and I hope you do, because everybody's got a story. This just happens to be mine. Welcome to Vigaland.