Funk

I can't seem to shake myself of this funk.

I'm feeling:
sad
lonely
overwhelmed
scared
bored
anxious

I'm thinking:
I am so sick of this.
I can't keep going feeling crappy all the time.
Will this ever end?
Will I ever have stable emotions?

I just want to be "normal" I want to take an eraser and wipe out my past. I want to start over with a clean slate. I want to be able to sleep without nightmares. I want to be able to walk into my room and not feel scared. I want to be able to go for a walk without having to look behind me all the time to make sure he's not there. I want to be able to trust people, to stop second guessing every action, to stop waiting for them to hurt me. I want to be able to trust myself. I want to love myself. I want to be able to take care of myself and not feel guilty for doing so. I want to wake up in the morning feeling refreshed and ready to take on the day instead of wanting to dig a hole and hide forever. I want to experience innocence. I want to experience childhood. I want to experience the joy I missed in new experiences. I want a life without pain and sadness and grief and loss and memories and scars...

The hard part is accepting that I will never have any of that. I can never go back and recreate my childhood. I can only go forward into the unknown. I can only heal so much of my past to make the days bearable.

I don't think I will ever stop just surviving. I think the damage that was done runs so deep it will never fully heal. I think my life will always be tainted, but it will tolerably tainted instead of all consuming.

Can I accept that? Am I even on target thinking that? Is this the critic? Or am I writing what I truly believe?

Why?

Why do I hurt so much?

Why do I hate myself so much?

Why did he have to hurt me?

Why did no one protect me?

Why did the grown ups look the other way and let him hurt me?

Why didn't anyone help me?

Why didn't anyone see what was happening?

Why didn't anyone pick up on the signs?

Why couldn't anyone see I was suicidal?

Why can't they see that I still am suicidal?

Why doesn't anyone notice I hurt myself?

Why don't people ask whats wrong when I'm withdrawn and "spaced" out?

Why does my family have to hurt me?

Why didn't the doctor do anything when I had a mysterious infection "there" when I was 7?

Why didn't the doctor wonder why I was always getting bladder infections?

Why didn't the doctor do anything about the scars on my inner thighs?

Why did she stay with him after my sister told?

Why didn't she protect me?

Why did she always yell and hit me?

Why am I always so angry?

Why am I so scared?

Why can't I feel things like a "normal" person?

Why can't I cry?

Why can't I trust anyone?

Why can't I trust myself?

Why can't I look myself in the eye in the mirror?

Why am I sad most of the time?

Why am I always on an emotional roller coaster?

WHY?

Him

I have this inner critic, He doesn't have a name, but I have identified the critic as being male. He is male because I have been beaten down by males in my past. He kicks my ass repeatedly. He tells me I am stupid, worthless, no good, deserving of the abuse and a piece of shit. He controls everything about me. I'm scared to try something new because He pipes up and tells me I'm not good at anything so don't bother trying. If something remotely negative happens, He goes on a rampage screaming obscenities.

Sometimes I am able to kick Him out, lock Him up and go about my day without Him telling me things. More often then not however, He has full reign. I'm not really sure how to keep Him locked up. I have tried replacing the negative thoughts with positive ones, but He shouts over the positive thoughts, drowning them out.

In November I decided to volunteer for a local distress line, help others just like me when they need it the most. I bailed out in November, came up with a number of lame excuses and said I would partake in the training in January. Now that January is almost upon us, I am terrified and am trying to come up with more lame excuses to avoid the training. I am trying to understand the fear and panic that I feel when I think about the training.

I think He is the cause of it.

I don't think I can handle talking to people who want to commit suicide, who have been abused physically, emotionally and sexually. I know I certainly won't be able to talk to someone who is the abuser. At the same time, I want to talk to these people. I want to help them, listen to them, show them people do care. I want to make a positive impact on someones life. Even if it is just one person, one person who I can help see there is hope, one person I can talk off the proverbial ledge, just one, it will all be worth it. He keeps telling me I can't do it, I won't be able to do it, I'll just end up making people feel worse. I'll say something stupid and push them over the edge. He keeps telling me I'm nothing but a fuck up.

I want Him to go away.

Nada

I don't really have anything to say, I just feel like writing.

I'm reading this incredible book, "A Million Little Pieces" by James Frey - it's his story of being in a Drug Treatment Center. It is very hard to read because it's almost like I'm reading about myself. Granted, I've never been in rehab and have no reason to go, but the raw emotions he describes, the rage, the shame and the blame I can identify with on so many deep profound levels.

He also wrote about self injury to control his "Fury" and how by ripping off his toe nail the "Fury" was fed by his pain and diminished with the more pain he felt. He described it in such a way that I was right there with him in a sense, I knew exactly what he was talking about. What he was experiencing.

It's amazing that people who suffer from things that are miles apart in experience are so close in emotion.

Strength...

I can light a candle

or

I can curse the darkness.

I'm choosing to light a candle.

If the candle goes out

I'll honor the darkness

And light it again

And again

And again

And again

Breathe

Inhale.

Exhale.

How simple it is.

Closing my eyes and taking deep slow breaths over and over again has kept me sane these past few days.

I survived Christmas.

One done, one more to go!

I used to love the holiday season. I would get out all the decorations, the Christmas tree, and I would put everything up. Alone. I'd make myself hot chocolate, spike it with Baileys, put up all the decorations, decorate the Christmas tree and then sit back and admire my work. Alone. That started when I was twelve. It was sad putting up the tree by myself, but it was always beautiful. Always something I was proud of.

This year I didn't do much decorating. I bought a little tiny tree, one that you could put on your desk, got a string of lights and that was that.

I wasn't in the Christmas spirit. It was just another day as far as I was concerned. It was a sad day actually. It was the first time I didn't talk to or see my niece and nephew. It was the first time I didn't talk to my sister or my brother. I spent Christmas Eve with my brother though, and that was a good evening. Lots of wine and lots of laughter. I invited a good friend over for Christmas dinner as his family is in Spain and he was alone for the holidays. I couldn't let him be alone, I'm sure I wasn't very good company as I very quiet and withdrawn.

I haven't been myself lately. Not even close to the self that has been coming out of it's shell. I am fairly quiet and introverted at times, but lately, even in the company of my best friend I have been very introverted. I'm finding it incredibly hard to smile, even mustering up a fake one is proving to be very challenging. I'm finding it harder and harder to keep on the "face." I guess that's a good thing, progress even. As is the numbing myself and stuffing things down, ignoring them, it is taking more energy, more concentration than ever before.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Progress.

Pain

I am in so much pain. There is so much sadness and hurt in me that I feel like I am going to burst.

The past few weeks have been horrid, yesterday I took another blow. I have reached my breaking point. I can't take anymore, if one more thing happens before I can reach the surface again God help me...

It was my nephews birthday yesterday. Many months ago he said he wanted an MP3 player like his aunt (me) because he wants to be just like me. I got him an MP3 player for his birthday. I called my sister last night to see if I could go over and give it to him, to see that look on his face when he opened it. My sister told me that she invited my ex husband over and they were going out for dinner, so no, I can't come over. Once again, she has picked him over her own sister. She told me that I'm worthless. She started screaming into the phone, saying many hurtful things. I listened for a few minutes, trying to interrupt to see if I could get my nephew on the phone to wish him a happy birthday, but I finally hung up.

I don't understand why she continually hurts me, intentionally hurts me. I don't understand how she can associate with someone who hurt me, physically and emotionally. I don't think I want to understand actually.

I'm feeling very defeated. I want so very much to just give up. To crawl into bed, pull the covers over my head and wait for death. To stop breathing, to stop feeling, to end everything. I know I can't though. No matter how much I hurt, I HAVE to keep going... there HAS to be light at the end of this hell...

Life is nothing but horrific glory...

WTF

I can't take anymore.

What the fuck have I done to deserve this shit? What lessons am I supposed to learn? How much pain do I have to endure?

I can't do it anymore.

Every time I turn around it's something else, it's someone else hurting me.

It's my family. My own blood that sets out to cause me so much pain and WHY? Am I that unlovable? Am I that unwanted?

And some people wonder why I hate myself...

ARG!

I am so sick of this, whatever this is. I want to curl up in a ball and cry. I want to be held, to be comforted. I want to run, screaming my head off all the while. I want to disappear. I want to dig a hole and hide. I want to take a bat and beat the hell out of something.

There is a lot of anxiety and panic. Fight or flight syndrome... I'm ready to take flight!

I'm ready to cut myself, to mutilate myself so that I am truly ugly from the outside in, to make my outside match how I see my inside.

How crazy is that?

The BIG question...

I need a weekend from my weekend!

I had a ton of fun running from everything this weekend, I was fairly numb starting Friday night until this evening. I have been awake early enough to watch the sunrise and waking up in time to watch the sunset!

I am now just coming down from the buzz of the festivities and numerous Christmas parties I attended.

And I did do things I regret this weekend... I smoked a couple joints. The first time, we were all just sitting around drinking and talking and it was handed it to me, without even thinking I had a hoot. Everyone just stared at me because I normally just pass it along without touching it. This time, I wanted some, the alcohol wasn't chasing away the feelings of sadness and I couldn't very well burn myself in amongst company, so I had a couple hoots. It has been 6 years since I touched pot and it was nothing like I remembered. Instead of nullifying the feelings, it increased them ten fold. It was terrible. I had to put the face on, not for everyone else, but for me this time. I just wasn't ready to deal with what I was feeling. The second time, I rolled it for them because they were too messed up to do it themselves, so to celebrate the rolling of the first joint in 6 years I of course had to have some! This time my entire body went numb and I couldn't keep my eyes open. I sat on the couch zoned out for hours. Today I feel retarded, seriously stupid. I can't think straight or concentrate long enough to do anything. Writing this is an incredible struggle. I think the mix of antidepressants, alcohol and pot really screwed me up and I'm hoping it goes away in time for work tomorrow or else it is going to be an interesting day.

To say the least, it's not something I am going to be doing again. I used to smoke pot like crazy when I was in high school. I would start my day with a big joint and then head off to school only to not go to any classes but go sit in a restaurant across the street drinking coffee all day. After school it would be time to hit the theatre or one of the studios around town for acting gigs and off to a friends place all night to drink and smoke to our hearts content. I am truly amazed I graduated, honors at that! I guess beneath all this surface stupidity there is a brain in there somewhere!

I guess all these stupid choices I've been making are stemming from my self hatred. If I hate myself, how can I make good healthy choices? So, the trick is to stop hating myself so I can start to make positive choices, the big question being, how do I stop hating myself?

Mess

I have been a complete and utter mess since the Tuesday run in with my father. I was able to keep everything stuffed down until last night. I burned myself 4 times, 4 serious immediate blistering burns.

I am trying so hard to resist the urge to burn myself right now. I think it may be a losing battle, but right now I'm really trying.

I have had a terrible week. A terrible past few weeks actually. This is "normal" for me though. Every year since I was raped when I was 18, the depression worsens from around this time until after Valentines Day, the horrific day. Usually it's not this bad until after Christmas, but I'm scrooge this year. Fuck Christmas, it's just another day as far as I'm concerned.

I am going to a huge house party tonight, I am going to drink myself stupid. Anything that will take away this self hatred I am feeling is more than welcome right now. And the stupid thing is, I know I will regret doing anything I might do tonight. I just need to have some kind of escape right now, the burning isn't doing it. I almost don't feel it anymore, it takes longer and more burns at once to take away the pain and I'm scared that if it stops working, what will I do next out of desperation?

Stupidity

I saw my father last night.

His wife called and invited me over for dinner, I initially said no I'm busy. She kept calling me, telling me they miss me, I finally gave in. I shouldn't have given in.

I asked my boyfriend to go with me, and he did. Having him there didn't give me the protection I had hoped it would.

My boyfriend was on the other side of the room looking at the suit of armour when my father walked up behind me, grabbed my ass with both hands, rubbed it and then pinched me. He then walked in front of me and pushed his arm into my breasts and gave me the smile I still have nightmares about.

I split instantly. I don't remember anything after that, the conversation, nothing. I went through the rest of the evening an autopilot and left shortly after dinner.

I am such an idiot for going, I brought that on myself because I went. Granted I wasn't wearing a please touch my ass sign, but if I hadn't made the choice to see him, it never would have happened...

Hope

I found a new inspiration, a new energy...

Natasha Bedingfield - Unwritten

I am unwritten, can't read my mind, I'm undefined
I'm just beginning, the pen's in my hand, ending unplanned
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your innovations
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Oh, oh, oh
I break tradition, sometimes my tries, are outside the lines
We've been conditioned to not make mistakes, but I can't live
that way
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inner visions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
Staring at the blank page before you
Open up the dirty window
Let the sun illuminate the words that you could not find
Reaching for something in the distance
So close you can almost taste it
Release your inner visions
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
Feel the rain on your skin
No one else can feel it for you
Only you can let it in
No one else, no one else
Can speak the words on your lips
Drench yourself in words unspoken
Live your life with arms wide open
Today is where your book begins
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten
The rest is still unwritten

I'll explain later why it's my hope and inspiration...

Microscope

For the next week I am putting myself under the proverbial microscope and undertaking some serious self exploration.

I am going to start with my good buddy, Resistance.

I have been fighting the Resistance. It's not so much the action of Resistance, but my judgement of it. I don't like feeling resistant, I don't like not trusting things. Especially the process, and most of all my counsellor.

I've been doing a lot of thinking and processing for the past few days, and the basis of the Resistance is fear. I am scared of the process, I am scared of the changes in me that have already occurred, and that are going to occur. I am scared of giving up my coping methods, maladaptive and damaging as they may be, they are almost like a security blanket. Something that I've created that has been a constant in my life, and having something constant and dependable is not something I have ever really experienced. Which leads me into the next piece of the Resistance and trust...

My counsellor. Every week I can depend on her, every week she gives me her full attention and support. And honestly, it is starting to become unnerving. I am not used to this attention, genuine attention and support. I am not used to having a safe environment in which to discuss my deepest thoughts, feelings, memories. It scares me because I don't think I deserve it and I have this fear that I will lose it, that something or someone will come along and take it away. And I know how irrational and stupid that is, but it's true. Most things positive in my past have been taken away or destroyed by someone, mainly my father. And I know, I know he can't take anything else away, and it's retarded to have such a dumb fear... I mean, the counselling will be there as long as I need it to be, no one but me, for the most part, can take it away...

Stupid fears...

Damn trust...

Finally

I was able to get a few hours of sleep today.

Not solid sleep, but interrupted sleep. I'd be asleep for a few minutes and jump awake and then fall asleep again. Got about 4 hours or so...

At this point, I'll gladly take what I can get...

Sleep

I can't keep doing this. I haven't slept since Sunday.

The second I start to fall asleep I am jolted awake by a flashback or nightmare.

It's driving me crazy.

Here it is, 3am and I'm awake, lying in bed typing this. I start work in two hours and I have been awake since Sunday.

I'm calling in sick.

I can't even think straight at this point. Normally I can get a couple hours of sleep per day which is OK, it's just barely enough to get by on, but no sleep since Sunday morning is an entirely different thing.

I don't know what to do anymore. OTC sleeping pills don't work worth a damn, I don't want to get prescription sleeping pills because I don't want to be stuck sleeping while having a nightmare, if that is even possible...

Questions

I need a boost of encouragement, or a kick in the ass, I'm not sure which!

What is on the other side of this humongous mountain? How many hidden peaks and valleys are there before I reach the top?

I find it incredibly hard to trust something that is not tangible. Have trust in the process I'm told, have faith in healing.

How?

How do I trust something when trusting things have caused so much damage?

How do I trust the unknown when the known hurts?

Why do I keep going back and forth with trusting the process, trust in general?

hmmm...

I had a heck of a weekend.

Did the whole group of friends dinner and drinks on Friday night. Went to a party Saturday and had a really good time. One trigger the entire night. A friend of mine cornered me and had held my hands above my head and licked my neck and checks because he thought it was funny. I felt this rush of something, my stomach started doing flip flops and my heart was pounding. I said "Steve, stop" and he did, which is good. I completely hid and ignored what was going on inside of me and hid out in my boyfriends bedroom for a few minutes to calm down and breathe. It didn't work.

I went all out after that and got fairly intoxicated. Usually I stay sober at parties because I just don't trust anyone, but I couldn't quite shake the anxiety or panic or whatever it was so I drank it away. Incredibly stupid on my part, but I had already drank enough to be over the limit so I couldn't drive myself home, I wasn't drunk, but wasn't going to take a chance. That is a rather poor justification... I think I'll stick with the "I'm an idiot" and let it be with that!

I went to church yesterday. A nondenominational Christian church. A really close friend was being water baptized and she asked me if I would go to share it with her. I have never been to church, except for weddings and funerals so it was an enlightening experience. I will be going back next Sunday. The service was kind of triggering, the pastor talked a lot about forgiveness and salvation. The forgiveness part was really difficult to listen to as he kept mentioning forgiving those who have done us wrong can lead one to salvation and inner peace. Forgiveness is not even part of my vocabulary right now...

I'm back to being safely numb, aware enough to know there are feelings but just dumb enough to keep them at bay. I feel kind of stuck. I know I need to feel, I need to acknowledge the feelings and process them or else they just sit and stew within me. At the same time, I can't let myself do that. I don't think I will be able to function if I let the feelings surface. Last week was a terrible struggle. I didn't want to get out of bed, I didn't want to go to work. I had to force myself. I had to take one leg and put it on the floor and wait. Ten minutes later put my other leg on the floor and wait. Even though I was late for work every day, I look at it as an accomplishment because I FORCED myself to go. At the same time, in order to do that, I had to stuff everything down as best as I could and coast through my day. When I was finally finished work, I was too mentally exhausted from keeping everything at bay to even begin to let my feelings surface and start processing... wouldn't let myself hide either. I FORCED myself to be social, to surround myself with friends, people who I know care about me...

"Something"

I received quite possibly the best compliment I have ever gotten yesterday. I can't quite make heads or tails of it though...

I went for dinner and drinks with a group of friends last night. We were sitting there enjoying our calamari and beers when one friend looked at me and said "y'know there's something about you" I just looked at him with a stupid look on my face "what the hell are you talking about?" Another friend chimed in and said that there's some energy or something about me that she loves, that draws people in, that charms them. I just sat there thinking "what the hell" and said "yeah, OK, whatever guys." Next thing I know there are 7 people sitting there talking about me like I'm not even there!

One person, who I've just recently started spending time with said I always make her feel better about herself. She said I have this uncanny way of lifting her spirit and she loves it. She said there was something about me when we first she met that drew her to me and that is incredibly happy to be friends with someone like me.

My boyfriend told me that I am the most incredible person he has ever met. He told me that there is a spark, something he's never seen before that emanates from my eyes and smile, from the way I can look at people and bring something to life inside of them that makes them want to dance, laugh, and cry all at once.

Everyone nodded in agreement as I sat there with a gigantic smile on my face thinking they're all on crack or something.

I have no idea what started the conversation.

I don't think there is "something" special about me at all...

Blah

So far I have managed not to hurt myself. I stayed extremely busy all day yesterday to prevent it. So far so good...

I had a nice little surprise yesterday actually. A good friend of mine got a hamster for her son a few weeks ago, he's absolutely terrified of it! She needed to get rid of it and the pet store wouldn't take her back, so I now have a hamster. My house is turning into a real zoo! I don't mind actually, I love animals, they're better and safer than some people... and where else can you get companionship and unconditional love like that? I was actually giggling yesterday playing with Sadie (the hamster) and chasing her around the living room.

My mood hasn't really improved, kind of rollercoasterie, but still haven't hit the happy medium I've been coasting on for the past while.

I'm starting to figure out that you can't help how you feel, but you can control how the feelings impact you, to an extent anyway. Normally I retreat and isolate myself from the world until these feelings dispersed to a more tolerable level, so far this week, I'm not doing that. I would like to, mind you, but I'm not letting myself. Instead I am still seeing my friends and doing other things I enjoy doing.

I guess that's a step in the right direction...

Shattered

Today I have been on the verge of tears since I crawled out of bed at quarter to five this morning.

There was a big mess up at work, and my manager is trying to pin it on me and my two other co-workers. We are fighting back full force as the problem was not our fault and management needs to take responsibility. It may cost all three of us our jobs if she does not take ownership. And we have been threatened with termination. My thoughts are fucking go for it! In the words of Dirty Harry "Make my day..."

Today, I really don't care about anything. I'm at the bottom of the well, slumped down in the murky water wishing it would just cover my head and take me away. The funny thing is, I'm trying desperately not to burn or cut myself. So in retrospect, I guess I do care...

I have reached out to friends, tried talking to them, but they are in a rather messy spot as well and we are ending up triggering each other. I can't seem to find the music that will soothe and alleviate some of the feelings I'm feeling - which I don't even know what they are! Writing this right now is not really helping either, it just doesn't feel a therapeutic as it usually is.

Buckle Up...

I'm getting in touch with my anger today.

A few things my counsellor said yesterday have been sitting with me, and I have been spending a great amount of time thinking. Today's trigger was helping a dear friend who was in a really bad place, and all of a sudden the anger just erupted from her while she was crying. I felt myself getting angry with her. I stayed with her while she vented and cried, letting her get it all out, telling her it's OK to feel everything she is feeling and that she's incredibly brave to let it out.

I am actually envious she was able to get it out, to be so real with me, yet I can't do that. Not yet.

I am very angry. I am angry at the world, at my father...

I was a little girl. When I look at other children around the same age as I was when it started I can see their vulnerability, their need for protection. Most importantly, their innocence and trust in the world.

I didn't have any of that. I had no one to protect me, no one to love me the way a child deserves to be loved.

I am fucking MAD!

My parents are to blame. My father is the sick bastard. He's the one who deserves to have all this anger, pain and sadness weighing him down, controlling every aspect of his fucking pathetic life.

The ex boyfriend who decided no really means yes and a big knee to the crotch means bring it on baby can go to fucking hell. He keeps popping up around my house, he keeps trying to hold some power or something over me. NOT GOING TO HAPPEN. If he ever crosses the boundary of my personal space I'll lose it, all this pent up rage will be directed at him and god help me...

My ex husband who made me his punching bag, who treated me like garbage, who constantly told me I was ugly and worthless, who raped me... FUCK YOU

Congratulations DAD... you failed being a father, you failed being a human being. You're nothing but a monster. You've fucked me up beyond belief. The most simplest of things you stole from me. The basic things EVERY child has a right to, you TOOK from me, all for your own twisted fucking pleasure.

"Because of You" Kelly Clarkson

Because of you I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me

Because of you I am afraid

I lose my way and it's not too long before you point it out

I cannot cry because I know that's weakness in your eyes

I'm forced to fake, a smile, a laugh every day of my life

My heart can't possibly break when it wasn't even whole to start with

I was so young

You should have known better than to lean on me

You never thought of anyone else

You just saw your pain

And now I cry In the middle of the night For the same damn thing

Because of you I tried my hardest just to forget everything

Because of you I don't know how to let anyone else in

Because of you I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty

Because of you I am afraid

Because of you I hurt myself, I burn myself, I cut myself, I can't look in the mirror, I HATE my life. I HATE being in this body, constantly reminded of the things you did to me, the things you forced me to do, the pain you inflicted, the memories that haunt me.

Be PROUD of your accomplishments DAD.

Be PROUD that you have wounded your "special little girl."

Be PROUD that you forced your "special little girl" to perform such degrading sexual acts...

Be PROUD that you have caused your "special little girl" a life of shame... a life of surviving...

Be PROUD that your "special little girl" carries such deep self hatred and disgust...

Be PROUD DEAREST DAD...

Sigh...

I had been doing really well for the past week. Got a big smile on my face and a bounce in my step.

I almost started crying at work today though, a friend sent me a song, Dear Mr Jesus. It is sung by a little girl and it's about child abuse. It just broke my heart listening to this pained little girl and connecting to her words on a very deep level. Left me feeling rather sad.

Ho hum....

Perspective

Some impacts of childhood sexual abuse on the life of adult survivors. By Juliet Summers B.A., B.S.W. (Survivor 1961 - 73)

Many people believe that, because the abuse happened as a child, as an adult the survivor should now just 'forget about it and get on with life'. If it were this simple, many survivors would do it! It is not this simple however. Survivors were not given the opportunity to experience a 'normal' childhood and they cannot go back and re-experience it. Childhood is where all humans learn the basics of adult behaviour. It is where they learn to talk, to walk, to feed themselves, dress themselves, to relate to others and how to decode all manner of verbal and non-verbal messages. When this learning process is distorted through abuse, it is impossible to change or erase the lessons learnt once adulthood has been reached. This is not to say that a survivor cannot lead a perfectly happy and fulfilling life, but they will never be the same as a non-survivor. The way a survivor is taught to think and act is forever different from a non-abused adult. This altered way of thinking affects relationships with their families, partners, close friends, their own children and with themselves.

If someone is skeptical about this statement, then ask them to try a simple experiment. Ask them to do two things in their life differently from the norm. Ask them to brush their teeth with their non-dominant hand and to brush their hair with their non-dominant hand. Once they have done this, ask them to imagine that, for the rest of their lives, brushing their teeth and hair will be that difficult. It won't feel 'right'. You look in the mirror and know that you can't quite do it. You can see others around you who seem to have no problems with it, but your own hands are clumsy. There are knots in your hair that you can't quite reach, or the part won't go straight. You resign yourself to the fact that you will never be able to make your hair look as good as everyone else's. Even if you get it done professionally, this is only a temporary solution. You know when brushing your teeth you've missed some of those back molars and scooping up the water was a nightmare so you used a little less than was needed. You know that eventually this type of tooth care will lead to decay but resign yourself to having to pay for the dentist bills and being admonished for your delinquency. You have learnt that others will attribute the reason for these behaviours to either a deliberate choice on your behalf or some undesirable personality defect such as laziness. But you endure, you get by.

Now tell the person to imagine that the reason they have to do this is merely to titillate and amuse some grown-up. Ask them to reflect on how they would think about life knowing that everyday was going to be a struggle and all because someone else selfishly used you for their own gratification when you were young. Now tell them to blame themselves for allowing it to happen and to feel the guilt that they are unable to tell anyone about it. This experiment may give a non-abused person a small insight into the life of a childhood sexual abuse survivor. Instead of teeth and hair brushing being 'different' for a survivor it is everything.

More information can be found here

The Cardiologist

When he walked in the room, he took one look at me and asked me whats up, said I don't look very well. I said I was just tired. He lifted up my sleeve to take my blood pressure and saw the burn marks on my arm, he put down my sleeve and said "no really, whats up?"

I just started bawling. He put his hand on my shoulder and said "it's OK, take all the time you need." After a few minutes I pulled myself together a little bit and he told me it was OK to talk to him, he then asked about my ex husband. I told him we were getting divorced. He asked me why, I told him I he wasn't a nice guy. "I gathered that from your past few visits" he said. He told me that he has been down that road, and it's very difficult, that the emotional part is the hardest. He kept talking while he finished the exam, I didn't really hear him. I was beyond embarrassed that I cried in front of someone, my cardiologist at that! Once he finished the exam, I snapped back to the present, he told me to take good care of myself and that if I needed to disappear from the world for a few days to do it because I deserve it.

Here is this doctor, someone I've seen 10 times in three years telling me to take good care of myself because I deserve it. Someone I've spent maybe 3 hours with in those 3 years gets to see me fall apart momentarily when I can't even do that with friends or my counsellor.

I don't get it.

PSVT

I am incredibly anxious and scared.

I go see my cardiologist today for a check up per se. A check up entails an ECG and a very painful ultrasound of my heart. The ultrasound is painful, because one, I'm female and two, they press really hard to get images.

I don't much care for doctors and avoid seeing them at all costs. When my ex husband broke my elbow and gave me a grade 3 concussion, I didn't go to the doctor. I went to work instead. A co-worker/friend had to drag me to her car and drive me there, it didn't matter that I was in severe pain and incredibly dizzy, I wasn't going easily. And the fact that I had to lie to cover up what really happened, thankfully it was winter and I said I slipped on some ice.

Back on track here...

I'm terrified of going to see the cardiologist, every time I go, the results come back showing more problems and he tries to convince me to have the Radio-frequency catheter ablation procedure done which just terrifies me to my very core.

I have PSVT - Paroxysmal Supraventricular Tachycardia - the name is scary in and of itself. Basically, I get severe heart palpitations and a racing heart rate. It happens very often, usually I am able to control it with the Valsalva maneuver - basically holding my breath and bearing down. I refuse to go the hospital, even when the Valsalva maneuver doesn't work. The first time I went 3 years ago was the first attack that wouldn't stop, also the day I got diagnosed! It felt like my heart was going to explode. I walked into the ER, waited in line to see the triage nurse, told her my heart was beating really fast, they hooked me up to a monitor, the next thing I knew I was in a stretcher surrounded by nurses and a doctor. I had 3 IVs in me, a heart monitor and they were doing an ECG. And here I am, lying on this stretcher terrified thinking I am going to die. I asked a nurse "Am I going to die" her reply "Well we try to prevent that here, but it's a very real possibility." Not exactly what I wanted to hear, but kudos to her for being honest! The doctor tells me that he is going to press very hard on my carotid artery and if that fails, they will need to give me a drug that stops my heart and then zap me back to life. Not what I wanted to hear either! So he grabs my throat and presses incredibly hard, I thought my eyes were going to bug out of my head! Slowly, my heart starts to slow down. They wouldn't let me look at the heart monitor, but I did manage to get a peek at it, 338 beats per minute. One way to get an awesome cardio workout I guess!

I know I should probably have the procedure done as the PSVT is increasing in frequency, but a part of me (rather large part of me) would rather gamble and take my chances. The odds of dying from this are very marginal, whereas the odds for dying during the procedure are that much higher.

Funny... here I am, once a very suicidal person concerned about dying...

Breathe... just breathe...

Sister

I just talked to my sister. The second I heard her voice I could feel the anger rising inside me.

The last time I talked to my sister was a few months ago, she told me I was nothing but a piece of shit who deserved everything he (my ex husband) did to me and that I should go fuck myself.

My sister is my half sister. My mother had her before she met my father, and my father adopted her when my parents got married. My sister was also abused by my father. She once told me that he was her first orgasm and that she was in love with him. To me, that is REVOLTING!!

I cut my sister out of my life the day she said those very hurtful things to me. My ex husband had finally moved out, he lied and told me he was living with friends from work. I found out later that he was in fact living with my sister, so I confronted her about it. Asked her how she could choose him over her own sister, especially since she KNEW he used to beat the SHIT out of me on a regular basis. That's when she told me to go fuck myself and that I deserved it. Instantly, I started crying. For the first time I couldn't control it, the dam just burst open and out poured the tears. I actually cried in front of people for the first time since I was a little girl.

This phone call from her today caught me off guard. I had a terrible day at work, and talking to her was the icing on the cake. She called to tell me all about our wonderful father and how much she loves him, how he does things for her and takes care of her. She made him sound like a God instead of the sick bastard he really is. I half listened for about ten minutes and then hung up the phone. She doesn't know that I was also abused, and I really don't think it would matter if she did...

I am still so very angry. I'm guessing there is also a lot of pain around this as well, but the anger is what I am able to connect with, to recognize. It's more familiar, being angry.

I don't understand why she won't leave me alone. She sent me numerous emails apologizing for her actions and words, I didn't respond to a single one and deleted them all.

She only calls when she wants something, money for drugs usually, although she tries to disguise it by saying the kids need something. I want to cut her out completely, but the kids mean so much to me, I haven't seen or talked to them for the past few months which is killing me. I used to spend at least one day a week with them, take them out for ice cream, to the library, anything to get them away from their house and the constant fighting.

I am torn.

TKO

I put myself in a risky situation this weekend, and I am proud to say I didn't fall to temptation.

I went to a house party, there was a lot of drinking and drugs. I barely drank anything, was offered numerous times to join in on the smoke fest, and I declined each time, granted, there was probably enough by-product in the house to cause some ill effect. I was actually fairly uncomfortable with the amount of drugs that were being passed around, I left the area and congregated to another room in the house with some friends and we had our own party until everyone else was finished destroying their brain cells.

I had a great time all in all, made some new friends, laughed till I couldn't laugh anymore. Great break from reality.

However, I was triggered a few times. Once when a friend tackled me and gave me a zerbert on my tummy. It freaked me right out, and he's a rather large guy, but I managed to flip him over and get myself free. I knew he was just playing around, but it really scared me to have a man tackle me, overtake me and pin me. I had a very vivid flash. To cover it up, I just started laughing and joking that he got overpowered by a girl. Another trigger was when these two guys started talking about raping someone; they were joking around. I didn't even realize I was talking until I said what I said, but I told them something along the lines of it not being a joke, but that it is the worst thing to do someone and how would they feel if it was their sister that was raped. It stopped that conversation dead in its tracks and a couple people actually got after them for joking around with something so serious.

I'm shocked I said something. I usually don't stand up for myself, especially in a group setting. I guess that would be another marked change in me.

I've been avoiding doing my homework that was given to me by my counsellor. It's a very tough, touchy subject. But I promised no resistance, and the trust is not an issue anymore. Something happened that has built up the trust incredibly, there is not really a question about whether I can trust my counsellor. It's an odd feeling actually, no one has ever earned this much trust before. It is a little disconcerting... but all in all, it's a very positive thing the trust has been established more so than it ever has been.

I have been overcoming quite a few hurdles lately, here's to hoping the momentum keeps going...

Blah

I have been incredibly busy since my last post, mostly by choice to avoid things! Bad decision on my part, but I needed a little break from "reality" and a break I did get!

I have actually been doing OK since Wednesday. My perspective on things has changed a little bit. I now understand it when I'm told that it's OK to feel a certain way - feelings are just feelings, they are neither bad or good; they just are! It only took seven months for that to sink in! I'm going to need that drilled in as well, constantly reminded until it really sticks.

I'm not really in the mood to write about anything right now, but there are some things on my mind I need wrestle with...

heavy

I am so frustrated.

Things in my personal life are going rather well, yet, I have been very down for over a week now, I don't understand why.

There have been some new memories, lots of nightmares and flashbacks as well, although these are normal occurrences and nothing earth shattering.

I have been taking sleeping pills at night to help me sleep and stay asleep. They're not really working. I think I need to go back to my doctor and ask for prescription sleeping pills, something that will allow me to get 8 solid hours of rest as opposed to a nap after work and a few hours scattered throughout the night.

Maybe it's the exhaustion I'm feeling that is also fueling the intense pain and sadness, add an extreme amount of work related stress and there I am; caught in the middle of the storm.

There is so much pain inside me. So much hurt, sadness. It just sits there, weighing me down, suffocating me. No matter how much I hurt, I still get up every morning, I still go to work, I put on my happy face to get me through 8 hours each day. Lately I have been wondering what the point is.

My last visit to my doctor, she wanted to take me off work. She said I need some time to help myself, to focus only on me and spend all my energy on working through this. I declined. I told her I needed to keep working as it is my outlet, it gives me something else to focus on during the day. I am now thinking it might not be a bad idea. It might help me to take some time off for myself and just focus on me and my pain and my healing. At the same time that idea scares me. I don't want to get trapped in a depressive cycle for months on end, I don't want to cut myself off from the outside world... I know that is what will happen if I do take time off work.

I just don't know what to do anymore... I'm at my wits end!

Revelations - My Feet

The only part of my body I like is my feet.

They have not been a source of pain or betrayal.

My feet allowed me to get away, to run when I needed to.

I actually pamper my feet, they are treated like royalty.

Feel free to laugh or giggle or think I'm insane, because honestly, it is insane to pamper my feet, but it makes complete sense in the scheme of things.

I am very embarrassed and ashamed to admit this, but I have been focusing on self-injury because I practice self-injury.

I down play it quite a bit in sessions with my counsellor. But it's time to be serious about it. It is not a joke; it is a serious problem that needs to be addressed. I understand this now from reading "Cutting" and am ready to address the issue full on because it will only get worse if I continue to ignore it.

I normally burn myself. I chose my upper and inner arm because it is an easy place to conceal and it is a rather sensitive area. The reasoning behind choosing burning as opposed to cutting is revolting to me, but it goes back to what I know. My father used to burn me with his cigarettes, his destination of choice was my inner thighs.

He said he was branding me.

Now, here I am, burning myself with cigarettes.

Except... it's reached a new level.

I cut my foot on Sunday. Really, seriously, cut my foot.

I was very sad, in a lot of pain and felt like I wasn't in my body. I'm not sure how to explain it, my body felt like dead weight. I don't think I was consciously aware of my surroundings, yet on some level I was aware of what I was doing, that is the only way I can grasp why I cut my foot. I tried burning myself to bring me back, to take away the hurt, I wasn't successful. That is the first time burning myself failed. This is the first time I resorted to cutting myself.

Cutting my foot at that.

I think deep inside there is a very real hatred for myself. Actually, I know there is.

Good riddance resistance... See ya later fear...

It's time.

Low Self-Esteem / How Shame Interferes with Attachment

Low Self-Esteem

Excerpt from "Cutting: Understanding & Overcoming Self-Mutilation" by Steven Levenkron

Low self-esteem has a direct impact on patterns of personal attachment. The individual with low self-esteem is prone to forming attachments with persons who are abusive to her or needier than she is. She believes that she deserves this behavior and unconsciously or unwittingly invites it. Another feature of the self-mutilator's personality, then, may be the tendency to establish abusive relationships that are reminiscent of "home," familiar, and in keeping with her childhood experiences. One component of this phenomenon is that security and pain have become fused.

This fusion of pain with security causes her to "treat" her feelings of insecurity, loneliness, and fear of abandonment with self-inflicted pain, which temporarily produces security and even tranquility. The self-mutilator, then, is someone who trusts only her pain because she connects it with "home." When she is in emotional trouble, she does not turn to another person to express her grief, but to the pain, because she can assure its presence. It is the most reliable relationship in her life, and the most familiar.

How Shame Interferes with Attachment

We have seen, in previous chapters, individuals who have committed acts against themselves which cause them pain and did physical damage to their bodies. In the cases of Jessica who was sexually abused, and Tracy, who was beaten with her father's belt, we saw how each individuals have explicitly used this physical pain and self destruction to make their psychological pain go away.

Any attempts these women made at self-disclosure were accompanied by shame. Both had difficulty describing their behavior, and in both cases they had never shared this information with anyone else. Each of them took approximately a year in therapy (following years with other therapists) to finally let out these secret behaviours they had been so ashamed of.

In Jessica's case, her behavior involved irritating her genitals with soap. This is not something that most people could readily discuss with a friend. Tracy's behavior of cutting herself with the buckle of the same belt her father had used to beat her with was equally difficult for her to reveal. Imagine the shame at having to discuss this information, and the fear of the listener's possible reaction to it. The gives us some idea of how a self-mutilator's isolation and lack of personal attachments become a self-perpetuating cycle.

Another factor that comes into play is the effect that the years of secrecy has on the developing personality. The sense of shame spreads from the specific act of cutting or burning to a general sense of shame about oneself. For Jessica, this constant state of being ashamed, coupled with the shame surrounding the original acts of childhood rape that she endured, combined to create a general sense of self-loathing. The conflict caused her continually to sabotage any chance of success that she might have at any job, or in any personal relationship. This ambivalence came out in her therapy when she became sulky and answered questions by equivocating, thus stalling the progress of the therapy. Unconsciously, she may have felt that she did not deserve success, even in overcoming her psychological problems.

This kind of patient poses special difficulties since she is both a danger to herself and a saboteur to those who wish to help her. She is constantly fighting the attachment she wishes for with her therapist. She knows, intellectually, that he or she is not a danger, but psychologically and emotionally he or she does represent a danger because trusting them would cause her to reorganize and possibly give up her defenses. This last danger can the most threatening of all.

In some cases, the fear is not that an attachment to the therapist would lead to an undeserved cure, or the dismantling of her coveted symptoms, but that the therapist would be rejecting. As we saw with Jessica and Tracy, one reason the self-mutilator lacks personal attachments is that she avoids even attempting them for fear that if someone got to know her, they might be shocked, repulsed, and rejecting of her. This fear extends to the therapist as well as friends.

____________________________________________________

I am learning an incredible amount about myself through reading this book. I am finding that not only have I adapted some of these maladaptive behaviors, but for the first time there is a great understanding of the reasons behind the behaviors.

I am a little put off by the "attachment to the therapist" as Dr. Levenkron does not elaborate on what level of attachment he is referring to. Personally, I don't believe that forming an attachment to a therapist would be healthy, perhaps instead, the therapist teaching you ways to form healthy attachments in your personal life, with family or friends. This of course, is dependant on the level of attachment. I believe some attachment is required to be successful in counselling, but where is the line drawn?

Boundaries... the ever plaguing wonder...

Resistance

Resistance: A process in which the ego opposes the conscious recall of anxiety-producing experiences.

Ego: the division of the psyche that is conscious, most immediately controls thought and behavior, and is most in touch with external reality.

I am and have been expending all of my energy into resistance. Acknowledging the resistance is a very important part of removing the resistance; I can now start to remove the resistance.

However, first I need to identify the reasons behind the resistance.

Vulnerability: I believe that being vulnerable is part of the cause of my pain. If I was not vulnerable as a child.... I won't finish that loaded sentence, instead lets focus on the fact that ALL children are vulnerable.

Trust: I trusted my father. I trusted my mother. Trusting people has failed me. It takes a very long time to earn my trust and almost nothing to lose it.

Safety: Very seldom have I felt safe. I have to work incredibly hard in creating safe spaces for myself, once a space has been tainted with even the remotest hint of "danger" it is no longer safe. There is no grey area.

Fear: Fear of rejection. Fear of being hurt. Fear of trusting. Fear of reaction. Fear of being vulnerable. There is a fear surrounding almost all aspects of the healing journey.

To keep processing this I also need to look at the fact that resistance once served me; it served me well. It allowed me to function, to wake up everyday, to breathe, to go about my life, to survive.

I need to understand that resistance no longer serves me. It is now time to move forward, to accept the things that have happened, to understand that I cannot change my past and that I absolutely cannot let it control my future. This is going to be incredibly challenging - I am up for the challenge.

I also need to remind myself that on this journey I will take a step or two backwards. I will retreat into myself, I will resist and fight the process. Doing all of those things is OK. It took years of trauma of get me where I am, and it's going to take a long time to get me to be where I want to be. To be a healthy, full functioning adult.

Understanding is one thing. Intellectually I know this, but on another level I don't trust it or truly believe it.

Unspeakable

I remember playing in the sandbox in my backyard, I was building a sand castle for My Little Pony! I remember my mother coming outside and leaving. She left me with him, alone for almost the entire day.

I remember that day as if it was yesterday. Some days, it feels as if it really was yesterday. Memories are starting to surface more and more now, memories that I had buried in my mind so I could wake up every day and survive.

It is going to be incredibly difficult to share these memories, to verbalize them, to make them real.

Ever since I shared my memory, I have been in a pattern of resistance. Fighting the process, fighting the trust in my counselor; not wanting to talk or share on any kind of level. I have been thinking about this a lot lately, the resistance. I am trying to understand the reason behind it, trying to remove the block that is causing it. I think it is because of the vulnerability I felt while sharing and then being left alone with the after effects, my inner critic kicking my proverbial ass.

I'm also very scared. The intimate conversation, the vulnerability, it is all so very scary. I need to reassure myself that it's OK to be vulnerable, it's OK to share, it's OK to be scared.

I need to convince myself that everything that has happened to me does not define me. It is not who I am.

I need to continue to get this poison out before it destroys me.

No Tears

I have been feeling incredibly sad for days on end. The sadness and despair keep growing, overtaking me. To deal with sadness, one normally cries as an outlet.

I have no tears.

The physical act of crying is beyond me. I can feel the tears welling up, I can feel the wave of wanting to release them, I can feel my lips begin to quiver and my voice start to shake with emotion. Still, no tears.

"Crying is for babies... you're not a baby are you?"
"Does that hurt? Are you going to cry? No... well lets see if we can make you cry"
"SHUT UP!"
"You were a mistake. Do you hear me? A mistake! I wish you had never been born."

Whenever I feel the tears start to come up, the above screams through my head like a locomotive. Faster than a speeding bullet!

It is my mothers words.

As I write this, I can feel the sadness and pain continuing to build. I can feel my chest grow heavy...

Solitude standing in the mirror

With a flower and a flame

Glaring in all her horrific glory

Find the things she's erased

Hit until you can't hit no more

Set fire with the flame

Capture it in time

Am I part of the disease?

Characteristics of the Self-Injurer

Excerpt from "Cutting: Understanding & Overcoming Self-Mutilation" by Steven Levenkron

The person who chooses this action is someone who experiences herself as powerless. She may not be docile, timid, or shy in public; she may even be quite outgoing. But no matter how outgoing or confident she seems, she feels alone wherever she is, different from everyone around her, an outsider. She is often plagued by a fear of punishment - usually from a parent - for being deficient, inadequate, a disappointment in a way that was either specifically defined for her, or one that is unspoken but understood.

Like the anorexic, she may feel that she has no one to depend upon or to trust with her emotions. That feeling alone will produce fearfulness most of the time, even when there is no immediate cause to fear. So, what we know about this person is that she is afraid, and she may hide behind obsessional thinking or eating disorders as well as self-mutilation to gain relief from her constant state of fear. She is seeking all the relief she can find from her fearfulness. Often, she is a high achiever is some area. At the same time, she may ignore (and usually does) subjects that don't interest her.

She is often apologetic even when she has done nothing to apologize for. She is fearful of what she sees as the imminent danger or resentment others will feel toward her. Sometimes, her frequent gratuitous apologies stemming from this fear will annoy and alienate those friends closest to her. She may interpret their withdrawal as an indication that she has been offensive or not apologetic enough and increase the very behavior that repels those around her. Still, she is a person generally well liked by her peer group who may identify on a very small scale with her vulnerability, a vulnerability that most of them are also experiencing to a lesser degree.

The self-mutilator is therefore a likeable, sometimes high achieving person with a myriad of problems.

The feelings of fear and loneliness from having no one to depend upon or trust are not formed in the imagination of the self-mutilator, but usually in actual childhood or early adolescent experience. They are realistic fears, based on real experiences and the severity of the resulting self-mutilating behavior. Some of the trauma is subtle and may include having a parent with a mental or physical illness; being overlooked and neglected; having the family broken up or separated for a period of time. Some of the trauma is very unsubtle: physical abuse, sexual molestation, and incest rape.

The above sums me up fairly well. It offers some comfort knowing that I am not alone.

Blindsided

There I was, laughing and playing pool with friends when out of nowhere this intense wave of sadness rushes over me. I bottled the sadness until I could no longer keep on the face. Told them I wasn't feeling well and needed to leave. It wasn't a complete lie, but not completely the truth either. I just didn't want to be around anyone, wanted to isolate myself and try to honor the sadness instead of pushing it down.

I am trying to find the cause of the sadness, the trigger. Unfortunately I have not connected with it as of yet and I have a strong feeling I will not.

Spoke too soon!

Have you ever felt completely alone, yet you are surrounded by people? Surrounded by good friends?

That is exactly what I felt. What I still feel.

Memories

What are memories?

Are they something that actually happened or something you cooked up in your mind?

Is every single detail of a memory true, or has it been embellished over the years?

How does the brain hold on to these memories?

How are memories sometimes projected as photographs in the mind?

And this memory isn't really anything I've forgotten, or anything related to the abuse. It's about my uncle.

I was 19. My uncle and I used to spend a lot of time together, he was 34. We had a lot in common and enjoyed watching hockey. Him cheering for the Vancouver Canucks and me, my hometown team of course.

I had last seen him a few weeks prior to the news. He stopped by to say hello. Our conversation was superficial, something that was not usual with us. He suddenly said he had to leave. That was the last time I saw him.

A few weeks later sometime in the evening my doorbell rang. I answered the door and was greeted by two police officers. They asked if they could come in, and verified who I was. I let them in. I remember my heart beating a million miles a minute, it felt like it was going to explode out of my chest. I asked them what they wanted and they told me I should sit down. I remember saying very loudly and firmly that I didn't want to sit down and for them to tell me why they were here.

They looked at each other with grim faces, and the younger male police officer said "I'm very sorry to inform you, but ***** has passed away"

I remember feeling like the walls and the floor just disappeared; like I was falling.

My mother was just arriving home, and at the sight of the police officers she started shouting what happened. I didn't have time to digest the news, I had to tell my mother that her younger brother passed away.

With the news, my mother collapsed on the floor. The officers tried to help her up, I told them I would take care of her and thanks for letting us know. They stayed in the doorway watching as I helped my mother up and sat her on the couch. She was hysterical. I didn't have time to be hysterical.

I asked the officers how he died. They told me I should sit down, again I refused.

"It is inconclusive to the cause of the death. It is estimated he passed away within 7 to 10 days ago. An autopsy will be performed."

I was spinning. I just saw him. How did this happen?

I had to remain strong. I had to notify other family members. I had to take care of my mother.

I had to notify my aunt.

My aunt was on vacation in the mountains for her husbands family reunion. I had an idea of where they were, but not an exact location. I had to track her down to let her know before she got calls from other family members once the news spread. I wanted her to find out from me.

I contacted the RCMP who were a tremendous help. I provided them the details of her possible whereabouts and that it was a family reunion. They said they would try to track her down after I explained the reason behind needing to contact her. Two hours later my phone rang. It was my aunt. The RCMP had found her and were allowing her to use their satellite phone so she could call me. I asked to speak with my uncle first, I told him what happened and that he needed to stay with her while I broke the news.

The police came back the next day. It was the same two officers. They had his wallet and keys to his condo. They asked if I knew why he didn't have a phone, I said he liked his privacy and had a pager instead. I asked why they wanted to know that. The older male officer told me that my uncle had a grow op in his basement, he had over 50 marijuana plants! I was stunned. I had no idea he was doing that. The officer said they had removed all the plants and the paraphernalia and it was OK to go to his condo now, however, the smell is very strong and advised I not go alone and wear a face mask. Now I'm thinking the smell of the marijuana is very strong, I didn't even think about what I was to encounter.

My mother, brother and I drove his condo. Walking up the sidewalk we saw bugs flying around inside. I later discovered they were once maggots. We could smell something very disgusting standing at the closed front door. Something similar to a backed up sewer is the best way to describe it.

I opened the door and stepped inside. I turned around and vomited on the steps. I have no words to describe the stench. It is something I wouldn't wish anyone to smell.

Heeding the advice of the officers, my brother brought along face masks. We each put one on, but it did relatively nothing to lessen the stench.

They said they found him upstairs, half lying in the hallway, half lying in his bedroom. I walked upstairs and stopped short. I took several deep breaths through my mouth to try to control the panic. I walked up the rest of the stairs and saw they had removed the carpet. I walked around the corner, and there staring at me was a perfect outline of my uncles body etched into the wood from his decomposing body. I froze and stared. I was transfixed by the sight. In the air there were hundreds of maggot flies, hundreds of dead maggots on the floor.

The police had removed his bed and all curtains in the condo. I later found out because the smell was embedded in them and they had to be destroyed.

We spent two days throwing out most of his possessions because the smell had attached itself to everything.

It had been a very long time since I "smelled" that smell, and lately I keep getting flashes of it. I could be at work and suddenly be overcome with the stench that I am sick to my stomach. I have also been dreaming of him a lot. Not of him alive, but how he died.

They weren't able to determine the cause of death with the autopsy. They said his body was far too decomposed to have an absolute. They did find high levels of acetaminophen in his liver and he had clogged arteries in his heart. To this day I still do not know how he died. I would like an answer.

The recurring dream I have been having is of him clutching his stomach, vomiting into a clothes hamper. Him stumbling and finally falling down where they found him. In my dream I am trying to help him, I am trying to get to him but there is an invisible force holding me back.

I now cheer for the Vancouver Canucks.

Sleep - part 2

I slept.

I actually got a solid stretch of sleep.

I feel incredible!

I have energy again.

I slept for 9 hours straight. Plus a 3 hour nap prior.

I was getting desperate for sleep and was tempted to down a bunch of sleeping pills so I could sleep and stay asleep.

I lied in bed, flat out on my back with my eyes closed. I successfully cleared my mind by picturing me sitting on a beach at sunset listening to the sounds of the ocean.

I only hope I can do the same tonight.

Sleep

My mind will not stop which has been a real nuisance lately. It is incredibly exhausting to be continuously living sexual abuse.

My eyes are puffy with black circles. If I didn't know better, I'd think I was back with my husband and I was a human punching bag again. The exhaustion is getting worse. I want nothing more than sleep. Eight solid hours of sleep would be a Godsend right now. I don't think that is asking too much.

However I do know why I can't sleep. Nightmares. I don't know how to stop them.

I really wish I did.

All I want is sleep.

Dear Anonymous;

Please, if you need help, reach out. Reach out to me again if you need to.

Reach out to a trusted friend, teacher, member of your community. Anyone who you feel comfortable with, anyone who you trust.

There are many resources available to you. Please do not be afraid to use them. I have listed some very helpful resources on my site, maybe you can take a look and perhaps as a first step contact one of them.

I can understand and probably know how scared, alone, ashamed, embarrassed, dirty and disgusting you may feel. Please ask for help, I know it's hard and it's beyond terrifying, but you deserve to be helped. You DESERVE to be safe.

Drained

"You're a rock -- the sturdy, steady heart of your family,
just like the Sun is the heart-center of our little corner of the galaxy.
So now, when someone you love has something on their mind
that they don't feel comfortable sharing with just anyone,
they'll be absolutely sure to come to you first --
and you'll be just as sure to go all out to help keep them on track."

I wish the above was true. Someone came to me today and needed my help. They needed me to pick them up, dust them off, pat them on the back and tell them everything is going to be OK.

I couldn't do it. I didn't have the energy to tell them anything. I offered my ear and my shoulder to cry on. I let them spew their anger, defeat and sorrow; but it hit the wall. For the first time in my life I couldn't pick someone up, I couldn't dust them off, give a reassuring pat on the back and tell them everything is going to be OK.

This saddens me.

I have always been the one to help everyone. I have always been the one to pick up the pieces and put them back them together. I have always been the one, no matter how broken I am, to do whatever it takes to make someone else feel good about themselves. I have always been the rock.

I couldn't tell her everything would be OK because I don't know that it will be. I couldn't pick her up or dust her off because I don't have the strength to bear her burdens.

I feel like a failure. I deserted a dear friend in her time of need, she came to me for what she has always gotten and I couldn't deliver. I could only listen.

I have never felt so exhausted. Mentally and physically drained. All I want to do is sleep, and sadly even that is beyond my reach. When I do sleep it is such a deep slumber that I wake up disoriented, confused as to my surroundings. I am normally very aware of my surroundings, hypervigiliance I am told. Someone can walk past my bedroom door and I am awake in an instant, watching the shadows to see if they pause, ready to enter. Now, in my deep sleep I hear nothing, I sense nothing. I am woken by a nightmare.

I am afraid to sleep.

...

Anxiety. Fear.

Sadness. Emptiness. Raw. Scared.

Broken.

Shame.

Embarrassment. Disgust. Dirty. Hate.


The above is what is running through my mind like a bad slide show. It is coupled with some images which is fueling the above thoughts and feelings.

I'm visualizing pressing the stop button to end the show, but it is not working. Sometimes the slides move very quickly, as if on fast forward; other times it's on slow motion and I get to see every little detail I don't want to see.

I wish my mind was like a dry erase board... one swipe with the magic eraser and it's all gone...

Lost and Alone

The title says it all...

I consumed copious amounts of wine last night trying to squash the many thoughts and feelings that were surmounting and consuming me. It was a poor choice as I know how alcohol leaves me feeling in the wake of high consumption. I'm also confused as I do not know if it is the alcohol causing these feelings or if what I tried to kill is rushing to the surface ten fold.

I retract that; I do know. It is what I was trying to contain in a neat little box that is crushing me. The neat little box is no more; it is covered in vomited vulgarity, what I would describe as blood spewing from the corners and black filth rushing out the top.

Paints a pretty picture doesn't it?

The Aftermath

After much processing from yesterdays much celebrated accomplishment I have reached the conclusion that it was not an accomplishment.

Accomplishments generally leave a person feeling good, proud of themselves for overcoming their task and completing it.

Accomplishment:
"Something completed successfully; an achievement"

Granted, yesterday I was proud of myself. I was feeling very brave and strong for having shared the memory. Today however is another story!

The tomorrow I feared is here. I feel weak; I feel like a failure. Exactly where this is emanating from I do not know. Perhaps it is my inner critic taking over. That thought only enforces the feelings of failure. Perhaps I feel weak because I shared. For the first time I truly opened myself to vulnerability and although there were no negative ramifications at the time, I am feeling the effects of being told that I am disgusting and deserving of such treatment. Now this is where it gets nonsensical - no one has told me that. No one except perhaps the inner critic.

I believe the inner critic is winning.

Accomplishment

Today I took the plunge; I dove head on into the waters of vulnerability. I floundered here and there, sank in places but managed to float to the top. My lifeguard was there helping me stay afloat, but also letting me flounder. I needed to flounder; I needed to find my own way to the surface. My lifeguard didn't let me sink, always had a life jacket handy in case I needed it. I didn't need it, I found my own floatation device and I have my lifeguard to thank for that...

Enough metaphorical diarrhea!

I did something today I never thought possible. For the first time I shared something that was incredibly painful, intolerably shameful, embarrassing and so very personal. I shared a memory.

It is amazing how much power and control a memory can hold. It is truly astonishing how something as simple as talking can introduce a tiny fissure to commence the exoneration of that very power.

I am learning many things. I am learning to talk and I am learning to feel. Learning to feel and honoring that feeling for what it is is like learning a new language. You stumble and stutter over the simplest of words eventually learning how to say "Hi, it's nice to meet you!" Hearing and understanding the response is extraordinary. Discovering the connection to my feelings is incredible. There are no words to describe the glory it deserves.

Talking is also something that is profoundly new. I have always been a very quiet person, internalizing every thought and feeling, not having the tools or the knowledge to release them. I have been wanting, craving and yet denying the need to talk about my memories; my shame, my story.

Today I took the plunge.

I am proud of ME!

Because Of You - Kelly Clarkson

This song hits home in so many ways...

I will not make the same mistakes that you did
I will not let myself
Cause my heart so much misery
I will not break the way you did,
You fell so hard
I've learned the hard way
To never let it get that far

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I lose my way
And it's not too long before you point it out
I cannot cry
Because I know that's weakness in your eyes
I'm forced to fake
A smile, a laugh everyday of my life
My heart can't possibly break
When it wasn't even whole to start with

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I find it hard to trust not only me, but everyone around me
Because of you
I am afraid

I watched you die
I heard you cry every night in your sleep
I was so young
You should have known better than to lean on me
You never thought of anyone else
You just saw your pain
And now I cry in the middle of the night
For the same damn thing

Because of you
I never stray too far from the sidewalk
Because of you
I learned to play on the safe side so I don't get hurt
Because of you
I try my hardest just to forget everything
Because of you
I don't know how to let anyone else in
Because of you
I'm ashamed of my life because it's empty
Because of you
I am afraid

Because of you
Because of you

Tomorrows Blame

No matter how many times I hear it is not my fault and that I did nothing to deserve it, it does not matter. No matter how times I tell myself that it is not my fault and that I did nothing to deserve it, it does not matter.

Today, it is my fault. Tomorrow it may not be. Today is what matters, for I do not know what tomorrow holds.

I am terrified of tomorrow. Tomorrow could hold much sadness and pain. Tomorrow could be my failure and loss of strength. Tomorrow could be a day of new memories and flashbacks. Tomorrow could be a day of great trials.

Tomorrow I may blame my abusers. Tomorrow I may have a world of strength and courage. Tomorrow I may conquer a fear. Tomorrow I may not have a new memory or flashback. Tomorrow I may smile.

I blame tomorrow for what happens today for the tomorrow I fear may not come at all.

No Means No

No means no... right? No matter the situation, no matter if you are married, no means no. A marriage license is not a sex license. A marriage license is not a hit until I scream license.

Amazingly enough, I did not know this. Not all of it anyway.

I knew it was wrong when my ex husband broke my jaw, when he broke my elbow, when he ruptured my ear drum, when he threatened me with a gun, when he would take my keys and wallet so I was stranded. I knew it was wrong... yet I did nothing about it. I just stayed and took it.

Today I realized that when he forced himself on me after I said no he was actually raping me. He was doing to me what had been done to me in my childhood and later on as an adult. I don't know why I didn't realize he was raping me. I thought it was his right, he was my husband after all. We were married and married people have sex.

Consensual sex.

I guess in order to move forward I need to realize that those things happened in my past and that I cannot let them control my future. But they do. They control every aspect of my life. I do not trust people. I do not trust myself. I have a very limited emotional intelligence, I have difficulty expressing even the most basic of emotions. I keep everyone at a safe distance, I don't let them in. I isolate myself. I actually hate myself sometimes.

I blame myself for everything that has happened. I'm told that it's not my fault, that there is nothing I could have ever done to deserve this. I can't quite help thinking that it is my fault. Perhaps being molested as a little girl was not my fault, however being raped by a boyfriend, being raped and physically abused by my ex husband - that is my fault. I was an adult when this happened, an adult capable of taking care of myself.

I failed.

Anger

Today I am angry. Today I am resentful. Today I am tired.

The rage that is boiling within me is unbearable. I want nothing more than to release this anger, this pain, this sadness. I want nothing more than to cry and be held and comforted in a way I have never been.

Everyday is a struggle. Everyday I get sucked down deeper into the abyss of my private hell. Everyday I try to claw my way out only to have the invisible chain that is tied to my ankle pull me back down.

I lost my childhood. I lost my innocence. I lost my capacity to trust. I lost safe boundaries. I lost the ability to have healthy relationships. I lost being able to feel.

I lost my life.

I am putting my everything into healing and am hoping with all hope that I get my life back.

What's This Life For?

I'm incomplete and hollow
Fading softly in the rain.
I saw a faceless man
He haunts my dreams.
Led into the desert
For my strength is surely fading.
Watching children play
Searching for the moment
When innocence lost itself to hate.
What's this life for?

Lost Innocence

That little girl is gone.

She disappeared the day it happened.

What is left is insurmountable pain, sadness, anger and hate.

Incest and Child Sexual Abuse is such a taboo. It's rarely talked about. Victims are usually left to suffer in silence. If we do speak up, we are rarely heard, or believed.

I spent the whole of my childhood living in fear. Not understanding what I did to deserve this. Always trying to be the perfect daughter so maybe, just maybe, he wouldn't hurt me that night. I was Daddy's special girl, his favorite he used to tell me, that's why we have our secret play times, because I was special. I didn't want to be special, I didn't want to be his favorite, I didn't want to be hurt anymore.

I blame myself for being special. For being a beautiful, innocent little girl. Imagine being a child and wanting to die. Imagine saying your bedtimes prayers pleading with God, trying to make deals with God, offering him your dog so you can have just one night without being hurt. Now imagine those prayers not being answered.

I was just a little girl.

the beginning of the end

I was fours years old when it started.

I was a happy and vibrant little girl who had pigtails.

I would wake up ready to take on the world and any adventure that came my way.

I spent my days chasing butterflies, playing with my dog in the field, hide and go seek and tag at the park with my friends.

I was innocent.

I was happy.

I was a little girl.