Monday, November 27, 2006

Crazy and Confused

It is starting to become a difficulty to find the time to write. For the first time in years I'm working a normal 8-5 schedule, I'm finding it hard to adjust. I'm happy with my job though so it's worth the struggle.

I do need to apologize as I haven't been keeping up with reading my surviving and thriving friends blogs, I do hope you are all well and even though I'm not reading, you're not far from my thoughts...

I've been struggling with feelings of sadness and despair since Saturday morning. I woke up feeling defeated and flattened. Saturday evening I was going to the liquor store and when I got to my car I just started sobbing uncontrollably - the type of crying where you start to hyperventilate. I sat in my freezing cold car for over 20 minutes hunched over just bawling. I was finally able to slow the tears and I went for a drive, a few times contemplating flooring it and smashing into something, the entire time thinking no one would know it was suicide, it would be blamed on the icy road conditions. I drove around for a long time before I was finally calmed down enough and I went to the liquor store, I only let myself get one case of Joe's Stiff Root beers and then came home. My boyfriend and his brother were in the living room watching the hockey game. I just took off my coat, cracked open two bottles and disappeared into my bedroom. I chugged back the first bottle, used my lighter to crack open the second and pounded that back. I went and got the other two bottles, lit a smoke and chugged away. After getting all 4 bottles down in less than 10 minutes I sat on my bed trying not to cry and trying to understand where this was coming from. There has to be a reason for feeling so incredibly sad, yet I can't find one.

My boyfriend came into the room to make sure I was OK and he saw that I wasn't instantly. He knelt in front of me with his hands on my knees and asked what was wrong. I told him I don't know... he said I could talk to him... it took every ounce of strength I had to hold those tears in. I wanted to crack, let the tears out and let him hold me and comfort me. I couldn't. I wanted to tell him that I hurt, it feels like my heart is dying but I couldn't... I couldn't get the words out, instead I just looked at my feet and lied... I'm OK, go watch the game. He hugged me, I held on for dear life not wanting to let him go, not wanting to be alone feeling like I was, like I still do...

I'm fighting the tears as I write this, listening to the Foo Fighters and smoking a cigarette. Wishing I could just melt into the chair and disappear forever...

"Can you go another round?
I will follow you down and out,
Let's go another round,
I will follow you down and out"

Sunday, November 12, 2006


A comment left by someone triggered this post... They admitted something I've been utterly ashamed of admitting, even to myself at times... it's time for it to come out

At times, when I was a child, I would invite the abuse from my father.

It was usually the only attention I got, and sometimes, it made me feel special.

God, just reading that makes me sick.

I remember that sometimes I would sit on his knee, wrap my arms around him and just wait for him to touch me...

I guess that makes me ultimately fucked up

And it's only fueling the "it's my fault"

Wednesday, November 08, 2006

Things are OK

It's been a while since I updated this... things have been going OK and I haven't been wanting to write about anything to drudge any bad feelings up...

I got a new job!!! I'm so happy! When I quit my other job, it was like this weight was lifted off my shoulders and I could breathe a little easier. That feeling hasn't gone away, and I am a lot less stressed, which means I'm sleeping a little bit better and I'm not as grumpy or short as I have been in the past few months.

It's amazing how a simple change of jobs can affect you so much.

I had a good session with T this week. We went for a walk like I had asked, mildly froze our asses off (it was -5C) for 50 minutes. The point of the walk was so I could go over the rape minute by minute, but I couldn't bring myself to talk about it, instead we spent most of the time talking about how I am incredibly angry with myself for not seeing any of the warning signs. T spent most of that time going over different scenarios and how others would have reacted to the signs...

Him calling me 5 or 6 times a day to find out where I was, what I was doing, who I was with...
Him getting angry if I didn't answer my cell EVERY time he called...
The I luv u teddy bear after a few weeks of dating...

T said that even a person who didn't have a history of sexual or emotional abuse would not see those as a precursor to rape, at the most they would have started to cool off the relationship and distance themselves. She said others might have seen it as romantic and not thought twice about it...

I guess I have unrealistic expectations of myself, and T agreed. She said I am too hard on myself and need to ease up... I laughed my ass off at that and told her C tells me that all the time. I don't know how to change that...

T and C tell me that I need to have empathy for myself... I understand empathy and I have no problem empathising with others, but it's next to impossible to have any empathy for me, I'm guessing because a part of me still feels responsible for the things my father did, for being raped and then running off to get married to an abusive man... I can understand having one of those things happen to me, but to have three absolutely horrible things happen... I see it as my fault because I should have known better. And when I say that to C or T, they usually ask if it was a friend or someone else who experienced what I have is it their fault? I always say no it's not their fault because how would they know better if they grew up with it, it's familiar to them. I just can't apply that to myself though and I don't know why, I don't know what in my head or in my unconscious blocks that out for myself...

Can anyone else relate?

Thursday, October 26, 2006

The "test"

I have so much to write about, I'm not sure where to start!

In my last session with T I didn't write about something that was eating at me and now that I've talked to C and T about it, I'm OK writing about it...

When talking about the rape and telling T how it started and then happened, T said that he sounded very calculated, that I probably wasn't his first or his last victim (I HATE that word... victim)

This sent me into a tail spin... I felt so guilty for not reporting it and protecting any other women from him. I still feel somewhat guilty, but now understand that I wasn't in the place to report it... I was a wreak emotionally. I think I'm OK with that... and I know I did what I needed to do and that I'm looking back at it with regret because I wish I had handled it differently. But I am going to do something...

T told me that recently the laws have changed to allow a person to report a rape or sexual assault to the police and the police will keep it on file for 5 years. During that 5 years if a rape that is similar or is allegedly committed by the same person they will have the report to help their case. So I may not have reported it at the time, but I sure as hell am going to report it now and leave it at that.

I tested T during this weeks session. I printed off what I had written on my blog back in February about the rape and I let her read it. I wanted to see her reaction and if it was a safe environment to talk about the things that hurt the most. I discovered it is a safe environment, T is an OK person to trust with all of this.

I also asked her a few questions... if and when we go over the rape in detail, could we go for a walk while talking about it? She agreed and said it's a great idea. I told her I need to move around to get out the nervous energy and that's what I do when talking to C, I pace... but it lets me talk. I also asked her if we could go back to weekly sessions, T agreed but not until November 7th. I'm fine with that. Twice I asked for what I needed and it was well received... I was kind of uncomfortable with that because it's not something I'm used to, asking or receiving... kinda cool...

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Hannah and Cedar Hawach Missing from Calgary, Canada

The childrens mother is a friend of my aunts and my aunt asked me to forward their website to all of my contacts. I decided to go one step further and post the site and their story on my blog in hopes of reaching more people.

Help Bring Hannah and Cedar Home

Hannah and Cedar Hawach Missing from Calgary, Canada

Missing Children Society of Canada, August 25, 2006: Sisters Hannah, 5, and Cedar, 2 were looking forward to going to Australia for a holiday with their father Joseph Hawach on July 1 of this year. Instead both children were allegedly abducted by their father and are now believed to be in Lebanon.

Joseph Hawach, an Australian and Lebanese citizen, and the children’s mother Melissa, from Saskatchewan, met in Australia and were married there. A year later they returned to Canada to live in Calgary with their 2 children Hannah and Cedar. The relationship however, broke down, but both parents continued to see the children. Joseph told Melissa that he wanted to take the kids to Australia for a 3 week trip and signed a written agreement, promising to return them to Canada on July 21. Sometime after he took the kids on the intended holiday, Melissa became concerned because her daily conversations with the girls had stopped and she couldn’t get in touch with them.

Her concern was well founded when it was discovered by way of phone call from one of Joseph’s family members, that Joseph had left Australia with the girls. In early August, Joseph advised Melissa that she should travel to Australia where he would meet her with the girls. She immediately flew to Sydney only to be greeted by the realization that the children were not there and were most likely in Lebanon. Joseph’s family also informed Melissa that the only way the girls would be returned to Australia would be if she agreed to live in Sydney, give Joseph full custody, and dropped the charges against him.

Melissa is working with the police, the foreign embassies and consulates and the Missing Children Society of Canada to find her daughters. For Melissa and the rest of their family and friends, the nightmare of parental abduction is just beginning and we hope that someone will be able to come forward to help Melissa find her kids.

Hannah has brown eyes, light brown hair, is 3’8” and weighs 45lb. Cedar has brown eyes, blond hair, is 2’10” and weighs 35lbs. International warrants and an extradition order have been issued for the girls’ father who has been charged with two counts of child abduction.

If you have seen these children please call the Calgary Police Service at: (403) 266 1234 or call the Missing Children Society of Canada at 1 800 661 6160.

For more information about the Missing Children Society of Canada please call Liz Ballendine, Director of Development at: (403) 291 0705 or visit

Missing Children Society of Canada

Monday, October 16, 2006


I'm happy it's Monday... there's definitely something wrong!

My weekend was OK, it started off with a bang... literally.

My boyfriend, best friend and I went to see The Guardian (highly recommend it) on Friday night. We hadn't eaten dinner and saw the late show so by the time we got out the only thing open was McHeartAttackOnABun (McDonald's) so into the drive thru I drive. We're sitting there waiting when this idiot starts to back up from a parking spot. I'm watching him, waiting for him to realize I'm RIGHT BEHIND HIM, but no, he's an IDIOT and isn't looking. When he gets passed my comfort zone which was about 4 feet I lay on the horn, he doesn't stop. I keep the horn pressed, but I'm stuck I've got cars in front of me, this dumbass who is about to hit my car behind me... I can't go anywhere. I put the window down and yell at him and then lay on the horn again... BANG!!!

He fucking hit my car.

I moved at the speed of lightning and jumped out of my car, put on my intimidating stance and firmly walked to idiots drivers side door. He's sitting there stunned as I give him my evil glare (which probably looks like I'm constipated!) and say "excuse me sir, you just hit my car."

"Oh!" replies the idiot.

Now I've always thought that the first time someone hits my car I'm going to be absolutely livid and ready to beat them senseless (kidding)... amazingly I remained composed and walked to check my car. Now it being 1:30ish in the morning it's pitch black and I can't see any damage. I run my hand over where he hit and check for dents, I don't feel any. Now because he was moving at approximately the speed of a snail in molasses I figure there's more than likely no damage.

I tell the idiot to watch where he's going and to drive more carefully because next time he might not be so lucky - translation - get your head out of your ass you idiot and watch what the fuck you're doing! I then bid him a good night.

I get back in my car and I wrote down his license plate number, just in case.

Saturday morning my boyfriend and I are leaving to go to a football game, I take a peak at the back of my car and there is a HUGE scuff on the bumper... I'm fuming mad, mostly at myself for not checking properly when it happened, I should have known better. I do have the idiot's plate number but I haven't decided if I am going to file a police report, I think I can just buff it out and make it all shiny again.

Asides from that, it was an awesome weekend. My boyfriend and I celebrated our one year - our first date was a football game, and I thought it would be kinda cool to go back to where it started so we froze our asses off at the game and even though we lost, heck, we've been in the CFL playoffs for over 30 years straight it was bound to happen!

Thursday, October 12, 2006


I had a session with T today, it had been almost a month since our last session. The dynamic and comfort level remained from our last session. It was much needed today.

We started talking about my dream.

I've been worried that I had completely lost it when I felt pain in my dream and woke up and was in pain. T said this was a body memory. She said it's a new part of my healing because instead of my dreams or flashbacks just being in my head my body is beginning to relive it, according to T this is a positive thing. I don't know about that though, I'd rather it just stay in my head... that was a TERRIFYING experience.

We started talking about the rape, piece by piece. It was so hard to talk about, we barely got into it. I kept getting flashes of him punching me and forcing himself in my mouth. I went in my mental black hole and got lost in the memories. I covered my eyes because I didn't want T to see the pain or the tears that were trying to escape. T moved her chair closer and asked me what she can do to support me so I'm not alone - I don't know! I don't know how to let her support me, or how to share the intense pain and hurt.

I am so scared to share the things he did to me, how it felt, how I remember it feeling... it's incredibly embarassing and horrifying and personal to talk to someone about the things that he did to me or forced me to do...

How have you talked about it?

On another note, I've been listening to this song on repeat ever since I got into my car after T... It's my strength right now if that makes sense, it's what I'm drawing from to keep my head up and keep myself in TODAY instead of in the past and in THAT moment... I wanted to share it incase it helps someone like it's helping me...

[Scott Stapp - Fight Song]

Tuesday, October 10, 2006

Reliving (possible triggers)

The TV show Without A Trace triggered me like I have never been triggered before. It was horrifying. The basis of the story was a missing 911 operator who turned out to have been brutally attacked and raped while in college and was seeking revenge on the man who hurt her. It showed him on her, beating and raping her. It conveyed her life of fear so well...

I sat on the couch absolutely terrified. I couldn't blink, breathe, nothing... just stared blankly at the TV. I don't remember much of the show after that. My boyfriend said he said my name about 10 times before I sucked in a breath and looked at him. I don't remember... I was off in La La land...

I DO remember my dreams though... I was really tired from all the Thanksgiving festivities and working on a holiday so I fell asleep really quickly - VERY unusual.

Both dreams were about Byron (the monster who raped me) - the first one was what I've started calling the "normal nightmare", me watching him rape me, but it's not me... if that makes sense. It's my body, but it's not "me"... I woke up with a start and almost jumped out of bed, also pretty normal for that dream. That dream upsets me, I get scared, I'm disoriented when I jolt awake and it takes a few minutes to calm down. I don't process the dream, I just flick on the TV and watch infomercials till I fall asleep again... whatever, it works.

I fell asleep again rather quickly - EXTREMELY unusual - only this time to be reliving the rape. I COULD FEEL IT. Everything was so vivid and REAL. I felt his fist hit my face, I felt his hands grabbing at me, holding me down, his breath all over me... everything. It felt like it was really happening. I could feel the searing pain, I could taste my tears...

My boyfriend woke me up... I was crying. He said I was kicking and fighting and shaking my head, moaning and mumbling what sounded like no... he said he had to wake me up because he knew what I was dreaming about...

I felt like I had just been raped again, my body ached, I had a splitting headache... my jaw was throbbing where he "hit" me...

My boyfriend wrapped his arms around me and held me tightly for a few minutes until I pushed him away. I needed to put my feet on the floor, to feel the carpet. I lit a smoke and just let the tears fall. Oddly I was numb, I don't remember any emotions yet there were tears... I sat on the edge of the bed, smoking, staring at my feet but not really seeing them. I mean I saw my feet, but it was like they were a million miles away... I lit another smoke and then got up and got some water. I climbed into bed, trying to tell myself that the dream wasn't real even if it felt real. I waited until my boyfriend fell asleep then I got up and took a hot shower, I needed to wash off the filth, to try to make myself feel clean... it didn't work. I STILL feel dirty and disgusting... used...

I don't remember reliving the rape like this before, actually feeling it..

I fucking hate this

Monday, October 09, 2006

From Postsecret

Incredibly powerful... and TRUE

***Update, 10/10/06***

When I saw this picture yesterday, I just sat there staring at it. It speaks volumes. It conveys what I can't.

Tuesday, October 03, 2006

Weathering the storm

I haven't been sleeping very well since Friday when this relationship ordeal cropped up. My boyfriend has been asking me what's wrong because I had been sleeping really well since he moved in, so he knew something was up.

We had another talk last night. It started out awful, with both of us on the verge of tears, him shutting down and not wanting to talk and me prying and continuing to talk.

We almost broke up.

We were on our way to a friends place for his birthday when I asked him what he was thinking about because the tension was so high in the car I could have cut it with a knife (excuse the cliche!)

I won't go into details, but we hached it out, and we are on the same page. He said he meant he wasn't ready... I'll accept that and just enjoy the moment.

****this was supposed to be published on Tuesday, but blogger struck again and saved it instead of publishing...

Monday, October 02, 2006


A couple days ago, after the conversation and my breakdown regarding my boyfriend, he turns around and starts talking about our wedding?!??

What the fuck?

It's easy to see why I'm confused and getting upset...

We were talking about Newfoundland, where he's from, and how a non-newfie is accepted and becomes an honorary newfie. It's kinda funny and gross how you become an honorary newfie by doing either of the following:

1 - kiss a cod fish EW EW EW EW EW!!!!!

2 - do a shot of screech - it's Jamaican rum and is supposedly disgusting, I'll take their word for it! Downing shots of hard liquor is not my thing anymore...

I told him I might do a shot of screech but I sure as hell am NOT kissing a cod fish. He told me I'll have to do the shot next summer when we go to Newfoundland because it might make me sick. I said nuh uh, not a chance... he replies with well would you rather do a shot and be sick in your wedding dress on our wedding day? My jaw dropped and I didn't say anything, I just laughed instead.

Am I spending too much time thinking about this shit?

The more I think about it, the more I think I should just live in the moment. But then I start thinking about how I want to know where I might be in a few years. Of course the thought of no one knows where they are going to be in a few years from now enters my mind and I'm going in circles...

It's starting to feel like he's screwing with my head... or is just scared to admit how he feels...

Saturday, September 30, 2006

Now What?

Boyfriend and I had the dreaded conversation. Y'know, the "are you the one for me"... not sure how it came about, something on the TV show Friends triggered it...

He doesn't know if I am the one for him. He said he's pretty sure that I am, but he's not positive.

I told him that after almost a year together if he still doesn't know, than I'm probably not and we should just stop wasting our time.

I don't think he gets it. It really hurt to hear that he's not sure.

I'm not looking for a ring either. I don't want that right now. What I NEED right now is to know that we're on the same page, future wise. I've let him in farther than I've ever let a man into my life, into my head, into all the spaces that are terrifying to let ANYONE in... and now knowing for sure that he's not sure I don't want him in those spaces. The emotional doors closed and up went the walls the second he said that.

Am I asking too much? Is expecting him to be in the same place as me unfair?

I don't know what to do. My heart broke when he said that... and with his "keeping my options open" approach to everything, well...

My usual reaction is to just run and cut the person who hurt me out of my life because there's been too much hurt.

Am I over-reacting?

The way I see it, I wouldn't have let him move in with me if I didn't think/feel/want/see a future together. Is this where men and women are different? I just don't see or understand how someone could commit to living together and not be sure about the other person? Maybe my thinking is clouded because there's a hurt I've never felt before.

I dunno... I'm stuck between a rock and a hard place with this, somewhere I've never been and I'm basically lost...

Tuesday, September 26, 2006

Undoing damage

For the first time last night with my boyfriend I experienced some left over damage from my ex-husband. My boyfriend did something my ex did to me constantly throughout our marriage. It was something so trivial, I'm absolutely positive it wouldn't have affected someone else as greatly.

My boyfriend didn't tell me something.

To start off the story, my boyfriend and I were talking about his hands, how soft they were. He hates it because he refers to them as "soft techie hands" and not "man hands" - I'll never understand men! He piped up and said they'll only be soft for a little while longer. I ask him why, he shrugs. I ask him if he's planning on quitting his new job, he shrugs. I tell him that he's cryptic, worse than a woman (yes, I was joking!) Then he said that he never knows what he's going to do, he always wants to leave his options open. So in creeps, um no, in charges my lovely lack of self confidence and I'm finding myself having a private panic attack thinking that "keeping his options open" also applies to our relationship. (I've asked him before if he ever thinks about the future, specifically our future, and I always get an answer of "I don't know, I never know where I'll be") So I decide to ask him if he's keeping his options open with me, he said "If I was I'd be going out a lot more, don't you think?" That response calmed my panic attack slightly, but what I really wanted to hear was, NO!! I know where our future is, just taking things slowly - something, anything more definitive because I know where I want to be, and that's with him.

I guess if I really wanted to dig deeper into the need of knowing where he sees our future I could say that it's because of my family and not being wanted and wanting so desperately to be wanted now. Or, I could chalk it up to being a woman and having a family of my own on my mind... I don't know, but I just really want to know what he thinks about this and I'm scared to ask him because I don't want to scare him!

On with the story...

My brother is moving to another province next week and was here last night to get his couch that we were storing for him. My boyfriend helped him carry it to his truck and in return my brother gave him something of his he no longer wanted. It was a big something, something my brother and I played with as kids. My boyfriend didn't tell me that he gave it to him and two hours later when my brother left, my mother comes upstairs and tells me what my boyfriend was given.

I lost it! I got so angry with my boyfriend. I yelled at him, telling him he never tells me anything, he's so cryptic! And of course, my boyfriend is sitting there absolutely dumbfounded because he's never not told me anything like this before. I jumped off the couch and stomped (very adult like) to our bedroom and closed the door. I sat on our bed thinking he never tells me anything, I'm so sick of this, I want out of this relationship. What else does he not tell me? Does he lie to me? I'm absolutely fuming at this point and in walks my boyfriend. He says he didn't intentionally not tell me, that he's never not told me anything before and that my reaction was fucking crazy. I told him to get out that I didn't want to talk about it so he walked away. As soon as the door closed I found myself saying out loud "I'm crazy, I'm fucking crazy. I'm a worthless piece of shit, a crazy piece of shit." I start to cry. I realized what I was doing and told myself silently that I'm not crazy or worthless and out loud I said "yes you are." Then it hit me...

Out of nowhere I said my exes name and was suddenly filled with rage. It's not my boyfriend who never tells me anything, it was my ex. It was my ex who would purposely keep everything from me to drive me crazy, to keep me under his control. I continued to sit on the bed thinking about how my ex would torment me by constantly lying about everything and anything, even the most frivolous of things, or simply not tell me something minute or major. He'd wait until I found out from someone else and then smile and tell me it's none of my business, even though 90% of the time it affected me directly.

I was shocked I was able to put the two together without any help from C or T. Even in my complete irrational thinking I was able to see that it's not my boyfriend I'm angry at but my ex.

I chain smoked and paced around our bedroom for an hour or so, trying to work up the courage to go talk to my boyfriend and apologize. I kept running over scenarios in my head: my boyfriend getting angry because I'm bringing my past into our relationship, or him simply not understanding or caring. I then started to worry that I'd lose him, that he'd had enough of my craziness and was just going to leave. I imagined him downstairs packing his stuff. God, I can be my own worst enemy!

I had finally worked up the courage to talk to him and opened the door to see him cross into the living room. I closed the door and lost all of my courage. I stood there for a few minutes telling myself how stupid I am and then just opened the door and walked into the living room.

I sat down across from him and asked him if I could explain why I flew off the handle earlier. He said "yes, please do." I told him that that was what my ex used to do to me and it drove me insane, and that I'm sorry for yelling at him. He apologized for not telling me, and explained that he forgot about it because right afterwards is when they carried the couch outside. He also asked how he can avoid doing that in the future. I told him I don't know asides from telling me everything, which he shouldn't have to do. We agreed to talk about it if it happens again because now we're both aware of it and can attempt to be cognizant if it happens again.

I am forevermore amazed at how adult conversation works. How a simple conversation can led to a resolution or understanding and everything is OK again. Our relationship is really the first time I've experienced this outside of sessions with C or T, and it's incredibly amazing how good it feels to be listened to, to be understood and respected. Especially by someone you love and want to spend your life with.

I think a very hurt part of me healed last night and some damage was undone. I'm giving myself a gold star for communicating when I was scared to do so and for allowing myself to be vulnerable.

Saturday, September 16, 2006


After I quit my job I spent the next 4 days in an anxious panic. What the fuck am I gonna do?! Kept playing in my mind. I applied for a few jobs and had a few interviews lined up when I was approached by my manager. They told they can't afford to lose me and they had an offer to propose. They offered me a raise, a permanent schedule and a promise to never work weekends. I thought about it for a few minutes before accepting. With a raise I get what I want, more money. I hate the job, but the money will keep me there, at least for a while. The schedule will allow me to continue with my plans to return to school, and really, who likes to work weekends? I have mixed emotions on staying with the company, but my team is incredibly happy and relieved, I even got some hugs from friends I work with.

I had T on Thursday this past week, hadn't a session with T since the middle of August so it was nice to see her.

The dynamic of our relationship changed. I'm not sure why or how, and I'm not complaining. It's an awesome change and I'm relieved that it's happened. I hope it continues, but if it doesn't, I also know from experience that it will come back as I've been done this road with C too many times to count!

For the first time with T I didn't feel uncomfortable or want to run out of the room and bolt to the safety and security of my car. I stayed present for most of the session and was able to go a little bit deeper into my feelings and thoughts. Not a lot deeper, but more than surface level. We talked a lot about sexual healing as I am reading a book on that topic, "The sexual healing journey: (a guide for survivors of sexual abuse)" By Wendy Maltz. Normally when this subject comes up I clam up immediately and get extremely embarrassed. I didn't this time and was able to talk about some things plaguing my relationship with my boyfriend.

At one point we were discussing something, I'm not even sure what it was... but it brought up another AH!HA! moment for me. I've discovered that not only is it hard for me to show emotion or simply cry is not only because of my mother, but because of my father. When I would cry, or plead, whimper, anything - that's when he would hurt me by pinching, hitting, burning, pull my hair. I learned not to have emotions and definitely not express them. And in an even more twisted way, I associated pain with emotions which makes even more sense why I self-harm, and chose burning as the way to injure myself and deaden the emotional pain.

I'm not feeling defeated by this new knowledge, quite the opposite in fact. I'm feeling re-charged and ready to go deeper. It has reinforced the fact that there IS nothing wrong with me, there are many reasons why I am the way I am. The greatest thing about it all... I'm asking for and getting help...

Monday, September 11, 2006

Back to reality

We got back early yesterday morning, again spending the night driving. I let my boyfriend sleep most of the way back and I drove like a crazy woman!

We had an awesome time on our trip and didn't want to come back. My boyfriend has fallen in love with the Vancouver area so we will be definitely moving in the next few years.

When we got back I started to count the hours before my mother started in on me... 6 hours and 23 minutes! She started with a guilt trip and moved on to how she's broke and she's never been this broke before and somehow it's MY fault!! I wanted to blow up at her but I didn't yell, I remained calm and told her she was a big girl who needs take care of herself and that it's NOT my fault and to stop blaming me for everything because it's bullshit and that if she keeps pushing me I'm leaving. She absolutely freaked out and started screaming all kinds of nasty things at me so I got in my car and left. I went for a long drive (not like I needed one after spending 13 hours driving home that night) and when I came back, I ignored her for the rest of the day. Doing the whole silent treatment deal I kinda felt like a child, but she hasn't gone off on me yet today so I guess we'll see. And really, I can't leave. Well, no, I could move out, but I'd have to give up my dogs and I'm NOT doing that. I guess I have to work really hard on setting boundaries and blocking her out... thing is, there's so many areas that I need to work on, that I need help with, I really don't know where to start or what to focus on...

I also fell off the "wagon" while on vacation and smoked copious amounts of pot. I must say it was awesome and I really enjoyed it. Each joint slowed me down, turned my mind off and just relaxed me. Before I started smoking again I was a ball of nerves, constantly thinking and not even remotely relaxed. Much to hard to resist temptation with the Amsterdam Cafe only a few blocks away... and really, you can't get any better than BC bud. I don't really even feel guilty for smoking again, not sure what is up with that, maybe it's because I was on vacation?? Now that I'm back in hell though, I don't plan on smoking...

I'm here, I'm at work, I'm doing my job, but I'm running on auto pilot. Even though I should be refreshed from vacation it feels like I never left. Last night I started getting a sick feeling in my stomach knowing I had to go back to work today. I've also been fighting for a raise for a few months now, and they are still dancing around the issue so... I QUIT! I quit my job... I gave them three weeks notice, hopefully in that time I will have another job lined up ready to go, if not, well I'll cross that bridge when it comes. I'm anxious, relieved, scared and excited all at once...

Wednesday, September 06, 2006


I'm still on vacation but I brought my laptop with me because I had a feeling I might need to write.

I had an in person session with C yesterday. I was incredibly nervous and anxious before the session and for the first little bit. It's a different dynamic face to face as opposed to the phone. It's much more challenging face to face.

There was a bit of an AH-HA! moment close to the end of the session and I kinda wish we could have spent more time talking about it, but we'll continue where we left off in our next session I'm sure.

We talked about my relationship with my mother and the lack of boundaries there is. We talked a lot about of how I feel/think that I deserve everything that has happened, my father molesting me, being raped, being in a physical/emotionally abusive marriage, still being emotionally abused by my mother... I deserve this because my parents didn't want me, I was a mistake. An IUD gone wrong or the long running joke of me being the flu before my mother found out she was pregnant. We talked about why I bow down to my mother and give in and do anything and everything she wants no matter how it affects me... I've been thinking of nothing else non-stop since the session yesterday afternoon and I had another AH-HA! moment while brushing my teeth this morning. I not only deserve to be a door mat, I need to earn my mothers love by taking care of her and basically serving her needs before mine. I NEED TO EARN HER LOVE. EARN. I don't deserve it, sometimes I don't want it, but I desperately NEED it. I wasn't wanted, and not being wanted and constantly being reminded of that I feel grateful that I wasn't abandoned, aborted, discarded... so because that didn't happen, and even though she hurts me and has in some ways abandoned me I still feel grateful for what I did get.. and the positive things I did get I didn't deserve, but the abuse I did deserve...

Going back to the session.... I looked at C and asked "What the fuck is wrong with me?"

Saying those words was crushing. I almost broke, I almost let the tears out but I covered my face and pulled them back, I pressed my thumb nails into my fingers as hard as I could so the physical pain took center stage and the tears vanished.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

I thought I was passed this part of it, that there is nothing wrong with me, it's them. I'm not passed this, not even close. Talking to C about the above brought it back. No... not back, more like in focus.

How can there be nothing wrong with me for my father to repeatedly abuse me, my mother to tell me that she wishes I wasn't born, to be raped, to marry a man who continues the abuse not only emotionally but physically as well. All of these people are or were in my life and there's nothing wrong with me? I don't think so...

I think I am fucking defective, broken and pathetic, damaged and destroyed... so defective and worthless that I don't deserve any better. After all I was an IUD gone wrong, I shouldn't be here, and honestly, more often than not, I don't want to be here.

My boyfriend keeps bugging me while I'm trying to write this, I've asked him to please leave me alone as I need to do some writing, but he just won't stop bugging me, tickling my feet, grabbing my legs scaring the hell out of me. He thinks my reactions are funny, I'm ready to snap and just scream at him to fuck off...

And again... what the fuck is wrong with me?

Friday, September 01, 2006

And I'm outta here...

Just wanted to let everyone know I'm on vaca for the next 10 days, won't be back in town till the 11th.

Take care all!

Thursday, August 31, 2006

Session Flashback ****possible triggers****

Super tough session with T yesterday. It all started with me telling T last session that I needed to talk about my boyfriend and our relationship and sex but we didn't get to it, so we talked about some other things first and then got to the boyfriend stuff.

It took me about 5 minutes to actually spit it out, and when I said it the words came out at a million miles a second and thank God T didn't ask me to repeat it. "IcanttellmyboyfriendthatsometimesIdontwantsexorthatsometimeshedoes
somethingandithurts" I closed my eyes and scrunched up my face while saying it so I could just imagine how hard T had to be listening to understand. We talked about how I'm afraid that if I tell him I'm not in the mood he will just ignore it and pursue sex anyway. I know that he wouldn't do that, that he would respect me and not persist, but it's such a real fear, when I even think about the possibility of telling him that I get all panicky and scared. T asked what I would do if I said no and he still tried regardless... enter stage left the worst flashback I've EVER HAD!!

It felt almost like I was punched in the gut, all the air was sucked out of me and I was absolutely terrified. My leg started shaking and my entire body was instantly tense. I was aware of my surroundings and where I was but at the same time I was back in my basement with Byron's fist hitting my face. It was really weird and I thought I was going insane. You know dream sequences in cheesy movies, where the scene gets cloudy/blurry except for the middle where the dream is taking place? That's kind of like what it was and nothing I have ever experienced before.

I've seen my rape replay before, it's felt like it's happening all over again - but not to this extreme. It really scared me to my core.

T asked if I was OK, I said no. T scooted her chair closer to me and was directly in front of me. I couldn't look at T, couldn't make eye contact. I remember T talking to me, telling me I was safe, that it's not really happening. I don't know if I said it out loud or just thought it over and over "I don't feel safe." I described what was happening and asked if seeing it like a movie was normal, which T said it was.

T told me I did everything right. I survived. I told her I stopped fighting after he hit me and just froze, doing nothing. T said that was perfect, that was exactly what I was supposed to do because I survived. I heard myself say that if only I fought him a little harder or for one more minute he might have stopped... the second those words passed my lips I heard how ridiculous it sounded but at the same time how I really believe that. Double-thinking.

I vaguely remember T talking to me after she moved her chair across from me. I remember her asking me if I could feel the floor beneath my foot and the calmness of her voice. I think that's what helped bring me back. I'm incredibly thankful that I didn't experience that alone because I think the flashback would have swallowed me whole and consumed every last cell.

I don't remember much else about the session. Once I was calmed down enough to partially function T said our time was up. We booked the next session and when I got to my car and looked at the clock I saw we had gone over by 30 minutes. I had no idea! That freaked me out, I had lost time? Was I really as aware of what was happening as I thought I was? Where did the hell did those 30 minutes go?

I don't remember a time being so emotionally exhausted, so much so it affected me physically. I felt like I had run a 100 mile marathon. My body was like dead weight, and still kind of is. I felt like I had cried for hours, yet not a tear was shed with T.

Instead, I cried my way home.

Monday, August 28, 2006

So much can happen in so little time...

It's been a week since I last posted but it feels like a lifetime ago.

One my dearest friends has moved away. It was a very sad day last Thursday as we said our goodbyes and promised to keep in touch while he is away for a year. I know it's only a year and with the Internet it will be almost like he's still here, I will miss him terribly. He has a way of keeping me grounded and bringing the "real" me out...

The session with T last week went rather well. I was shocked really as I was almost ready to give up. I didn't talk to her about what I had mentioned previously but I felt more in control of the session and what we talked about than I ever have with T. We spent a lot of time talking about how I perceive myself to be the rock and how I'm responsible for everything, even things beyond my control. T challenged me in ways I haven't been challenged before and it helped to see from a different perspective how ridiculous that really is. I'm further along in understanding that I'm not responsible for my father, for Byron (the rape) or for my ex-husband. Further along, but so far away...

I talked to my sister yesterday. We haven't spoken in almost a year, and if it wasn't for my niece or nephew I wouldn't have talked to her. I actually went and saw them yesterday as well. It was incredible seeing the kids again. My niece ran up to me and jumped in my arms and gave me a huge hug... I didn't want to let her go! I can't believe how much she has grown, she's a beautiful little girl.

My nephew of course ran and hid when I got there. I had to go find him, which was rather easy because he was giggling. We did the knuckle shake (closed fist banged against the others close fist) and I gave him a noogie! He's grown a lot too and put on some weight which is awesome - the kid was skin and bones last time I saw him. We spent a lot of time talking and he talked to me about how much he hates school, and how his parents treat him (which is like crap) I choked back tears talking to him because he's my little man, not so little anymore I guess though, he's 13! I missed him like crazy. He said he missed having me to talk to because I'm cool and easy to talk to! He also asked when I was going to take him shopping because I'm the coolest Auntie and find the coolest clothes!! What a kid!

This week is going to be super busy. My boyfriend and I are going to Vancouver and Tofino for a week. I'm getting excited, more-so to take him there and see the look on his face when we get into Vancouver. The biggest city he has ever been in is the one we live in, and a million people is really not that big!

I'm also looking forward to the in person session with C. I remember last year in our first face to face I was beyond terrified and spent most of the time forcing myself to act calm. This time it will be different, we've been working together for over a year and I'm really comfortable with C. I want to delve into some heavy stuff during the two hour session but I don't really know where to start. Do I talk about how I'm discovering how the SA is affecting my relationship with my boyfriend? Do I talk about memories and the awful things he did to me? The nightmares? Or all of it?

Tuesday, August 22, 2006

My Passion: Photography

I love photography. It's something I find completely relaxing and allows me to share my views of some of the most beautiful things in the world.

My Passion: Photography

Monday, August 21, 2006


I was watching Nanny 911 - what can I say, I LOVE that show!! The family dynamics and watching the changes and the resistance of the family while attempting the changes is fascinating.

So, I was watching Nanny 911 and here was this family all settled down on the couch, the kids in their PJ's sitting on their parents laps being read a bedtime story, it was the picture of perfect... And all I could do was cry.

I felt sad and a great sense of loss. Pain.

I remember those nights before everything changed. I remember sitting on my fathers knee while he read to me, I remember being excited and happy. I remember feeling safe.

I remember when everything changed. When I became a terrified little girl. When sitting on my fathers knee made me feel scared. I remember not feeling safe with his arms around me. I remember the seemingly innocent touches, him watching me get dressed. I remember the first time he put his fingers there and how much it hurt.

I remember going to an outdoor carnival when I was 5 or 6. It's here every summer, but that particular summer a man and a women were abducting children from the carnival. I remember my mother warning me not to wander off because I could get taken. My parents put a sticker on the back of my shirt, one of those if lost please take to such and such place. I remember taking that sticker off and running away. I remember wishing that those people would take me away because it couldn't get any worse. I remember my parents finding me and the spanking I got. I remember my father taking me into a bathroom and hurting me telling me I'm getting what I deserved because I'm such a bad little girl. I remember thinking for the first time that I wished I was dead.

Watching that family made me really sad. It was a reminder of just how much I lost. How much we all lost as children. How much it affects us in our adults lives.

I often wonder what kind of parent I'll be. Will I be a good mom? I like to think that I will. I'm going to give my children everything I didn't have; safety, security, love, kindness, respect... at the same time I fear I will be over protective and suspicious of every man they have contact with, including their father. That scares me...

Saturday, August 19, 2006


I had an incredible dream.

I've been exhausted, I spent the week working in the office, and with starting at 5am I've been dragging myself out of bed at 3:30am meaning I've had almost no sleep all week.

I slept last night. A deep, sweet slumber. It was incredible.

I dreamt about being cared for. About crying, sobbing uncontrollably and having someone hold me. Rubbing my back and just holding me. They didn't talk, just held me. I've never felt so loved or cared for in my life, and even though it was a dream, it was truly amazing.

I cried and cried and just talked. Told them all the horrible things my father did to me. Talked about the rape and how much it hurt and still hurts. How much pain I'm in, how sad and broken I feel. I was real, and this person let me be real and it was amazing.

God, how much I want that in real life.

Friday, August 18, 2006


I saw T yesterday. I was so uncomfortable; I really didn't want to be there. I found myself angry for some reason and incredibly closed off.

I'm also finding myself frustrated with T. I don't think we mesh very well. I feel like she doesn't really hear me or let me talk. She leads every session without giving me the opportunity to talk about something I may need to talk about. But at the same time, I won't talk about anything anyway. I'm not comfortable with her. I find her kind of creepy actually! A few sessions back T talked about ****possible triggers**** sexual arousal being normal when experiencing sexual abuse and she compared it to changing a babies diaper. She said when cleaning a penis a little boy can have an erection from the stimulation but that it is completely innocent and a normal reaction. That absolutely freaked me out; I didn't tell her that though. I don't feel safe in her home office. And while talking about it she was kind of giggling, out of nerves or maybe from the look on my face, I don't know. I felt safe at one point. I really don't know what is going on with me. When I asked T why she would offer a reduced rate she talked for about 10 minutes about how I'm such a special person and she cares... it was a load of bullshit really. The way she talks to me, I dunno, I feel like she's lying to my face trying to boost me up and I'm not buying it. Should I talk to her about it?

Friday, August 11, 2006

Still here

I'm still here, still in that dark awful place I so desperately want out of.

I'm tired of hurting. I'm sick of being depressed, the overwhelming sadness.

My DR has increased my antidepressant. I am now almost at the maximum dose, I started taking the increase yesterday so it will be a few weeks at least before I notice any changes. I'm hoping beyond all hope that this will work.

I saw T yesterday. It was a really tough session because I told her about my suicidal thoughts. She was really kind and caring as we talked about it for a while. When I started talking about how I felt and have been feeling, my voice started to shake and the dam almost burst. I stopped myself and held in the tears. I also stopped really talking about it, and kept everything surface level. T offered to reduce her rate so I would be able to go weekly instead of every two weeks so the sessions would be more helpful and we can really delve into everything. I took her up on the offer and thanked her profusely.

C and I have also agreed to keep working together, one or two sessions per month. I'm really glad C agreed as it was incredibly anxiety inducing to know we were terminating. I'm not ready to give up C's support, and admitting that was so incredibly hard because it was admitting again that I need help and that makes me feel super vulnerable, which I absolutely hate feeling... but it's good...

Sunday, August 06, 2006

A 4 year old

I spent time with my boyfriend's family yesterday. His cousin just had a baby, 3 weeks old, and has another daughter who just turned 4.

My boyfriend and I bought her a bike for her birthday. She was so happy, jumping around giggling. Full of life. Full of sweet innocence and trust.

I spent hours playing with her, pushing her on her bike all around the house. I held the baby for a while, and just stared at her while she slept in my arms.

It was glorious and heart wrenching.

I sat there watching the 4 year old little girl imagining myself at that age. How precious and vulnerable she is. How trusting and how much she needed her parents to take care of her. How much she needed all of us to take care of her and love her.

How could anyone want to hurt something so precious?

I can't put into words the pain and sadness I feel. The incredible loss.

I was just a little girl. A 4 year old girl when he came to my room for the first time. When he climbed into bed with me and held me close and started touching me I remember feeling scared and confused. I remember not liking it, but it was my DADDY. He was my hero. He was the man who would wake me up before he went to work so we could have breakfast together, Count Chocula cereal and strawberry jelly on toast. He was the man who would hold me on his knee and read me bedtime stories, changing the characters name to my own to make it more exciting. He was the man who would kiss my boo-boos better and wipe away my tears. He was the man who was hurting me at night, doing unthinkable things to a 4 year old girl.

Saturday, August 05, 2006

I'm OK

I wanted to let you all know that I'm OK..

Friday, August 04, 2006

Falling down

Possible Triggers

I'm incredibly sad today, I can feel the tears welling behind my eyes but I won't let me them fall.

My boyfriend kept touching me this morning, hugging me, putting his hand on my knee. I wanted to scream STOP TOUCHING ME. I still want to scream it even though I'm alone and there's no one to hear. I expect him to read my mind, or at least my body language, I was stiff as a board, not moving a single muscle every time he touched me. I wouldn't look at him, couldn't look at him.

Can't hide the pain in my eyes. Can't look at myself in the mirror.

I've been at a low. A really bad low for a few weeks.

High risk. Suicide.

There was a part of me that wanted to fight, to live, it kept saying don't let those bastards win.

I can't find that today.

I've been thinking of the things that make life worth living... things I love

My dogs
My boyfriend
My guinea pig!
The ocean and mountains and trees
The song of birds

I spent time looking at pictures from a vacation last year to Tofino and Vancouver, I wanted to remind myself of the greatness and beauty in the world. Reminding myself that if I hang on for a few more weeks I'll be there again, in the places that feel like home.

"Please come now I think I'm falling
I'm holding to all I think is safe
It seems I found the road to nowhere
And I'm trying to escape
I yelled back when I heard thunder
But I'm down to one last breath
And with it let me say

Hold me now
I'm six feet from the edge and I'm thinking
That maybe six feet
Ain't so far down"

I'm scared. I feel alone. Hopeless.

I'm hanging on to one frayed thread. I know deep in my heart this won't last forever. It will get better.

It's a hard road, but I'm gonna keep walking. Even if I have to start crawling. I'm not gonna give up. I can't.

But I desperately want to. I'm sick of falling down.

Tuesday, August 01, 2006

Why is this happening?

Police hunt T.O. pedophile
Prairie boys last seen with suspect
Repeat offender released last summer
Aug. 1, 2006. 06:08 AM

A convicted pedophile from Toronto is being hunted by police following the abduction of a 10-year-old Saskatchewan boy.
The RCMP issued a Canada-wide warrant yesterday for 35-year-old Peter Whitmore in the abduction of Zachary Miller of Whitewood, who hasn't been seen since Sunday. An Amber Alert was issued the same day.
"We believe the boy may come to harm," said RCMP Sergeant Tammy Patterson in Regina. "That's why we've issued the alert."
Patterson said RCMP were not aware Whitmore was in Saskatchewan until they began investigating Zachary's disappearance.
Police said Whitmore — notorious in Ontario for abducting and molesting children — is also believed to be travelling with 14-year-old Jordan Bruyere. He was last seen on July 22 in Brandon, Man., and is the subject of a missing persons report.
Whitmore's apparent involvement in the boys' disappearance is again raising questions about Canada's ability to deal with repeat sexual offenders who finish serving their time.
"When he was released in 2005 ... the experts at Correctional Services said he had a 100 per cent chance of re-offending," Steve Sullivan of the Canadian Resource Centre for Victims of Crime said yesterday.
The centre has long sought revisions to the Criminal Code that would allow the courts to deem chronic pedophiles dangerous offenders — and jail them indefinitely — when their prison terms expire. As it stands, a dangerous offender application can only be made during sentencing and only for crimes that command prison terms of 10 years or more. None of Whitmore's crimes have merited such a sentence, but his criminal record is extensive.
In 1993, he was convicted of abduction and five sexual offences involving four young boys in Toronto and spent 16 months in custody. Nine days after his release, he took an 8-year-old girl from Guelph to Toronto, and was sentenced to more than 4 1/2 years in jail.
Less than a month after his November 2000 release, he was found in a downtown Toronto motel with a 13-year-old boy. He was sentenced to one year in jail.
In 2002, a Toronto judge sentenced him to three years' jail for probation violations because he fled to B.C. after being found in the company of a 5-year-old boy. The violations included the fact he was carrying a "rape kit" in his backpack that included latex gloves, pictures of young children, tubes of jelly lubricant, duct tape, a sleeping bag and plastic zipper ties that can be used as handcuffs.
Whitmore was released on June 16, 2005, after serving his entire three-year sentence and took up residence in Chilliwack, where an aunt lives.
His former lawyer, Daniel Brodsky, said Whitmore's modus operandi has always been to groom his targets over a period of time. He's never snatched somebody and run, he said.
Brodsky, who urged his former client to surrender immediately, had harsh words for police in Alberta, the province where Whitmore last had contact with authorities.
He claimed Whitmore moved to a town near Edmonton to serve out a peace bond that came with stringent conditions. When the peace bond ended in June, police didn't try and negotiate another, but allegedly ran Whitmore out of town, he said.
"Somebody dropped the ball and did the NIMBY thing," said Brodsky, adding that Whitmore desperately needs close supervision.
Critics of the way Canada's justice system deals with pedophiles and child exploitation say Whitmore's case illustrates the need for much tougher restrictions.
David Butt, a former crown attorney and now a spokesperson for Beyond Borders, an international group that works to end child exploitation, said the law has not kept up with expert understanding of why pedophiles are dangerous.
"These people are a constant danger," said Butt. "We need a criminal justice system that is much more robust in identifying these kinds of people so that proper long-term monitoring can be put in place."
As things stand now, he said, dangerous and long-term offender status is predicated on somebody committing a number of serious crimes.
"If we wait until that happens, effectively we are waiting until some child is seriously sexually assaulted or even killed," he said, urging the need for pro-active monitoring.
The debate raging in legal circles in Canada, which has convicted some 40,000 pedophiles over a 20-year period, including 4,000 considered high risk, also includes the question of whether they can even be treated effectively.
In a recent Star series, mental health experts said there is no evidence that any treatment, including chemical castration, is truly effective for high-risk pedophiles.
Some prosecutors say a pedophile shouldn't simply be allowed back into the community. That's when the long, complicated process of designating somebody as a dangerous offender begins.
Another problem is the awkward definition of long-term offender, which talks of the "reasonable possibility of eventual control of the risk in the community." It's a definition some forensic psychiatrists call unwieldy and problematic.
In Whitmore's case, after a long series of brushes with the law, Toronto Police tried and failed in 2001 to get a judge to make him wear an electronic bracelet as a tracking device.
When Whitmore left Alberta in June, it wasn't the first time he was "chased" out of town.
Six years ago, Whitmore was hounded out of a west Toronto neighbourhood after residents found out from police that he was living there.
After that came a startling appeal on national television.
"I want to take treatment," Whitmore told CTV's Canada AM.
"It's going to be very hard to take treatment if I'm moving from town to town."

with files from Canadian Press

Why is this happening? What the hell is wrong with the government and judicial system?

100 per cent chance of re-offending - Well we'll just let him out so he can prey on MORE innocent children. Lets give this bastard more rights than his victims.

This makes me so angry. I can't even put it into words.

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

After so long I failed

I'm strong enough now to admit it... I think.

It had been burning a hole in my chest, tearing at my mind, the feeble bands of mental rubber trying desperately to contain the need.

I failed.

I was so lost. So angry. So hurt. So ashamed. So scared. So confused. So conflicted. So frustrated.

So needing to reach out and just ask for help. So confused about who to turn to, a friend, my boyfriend, C or T... embarrassed and ashamed to even admit it.

I thought if I just ignored it, it would go away. Of course that is never the case. I KNOW this, yet I keep repeating. I never learn. We're supposed to learn from our mistakes, why don't I?

I always stop myself when reaching for help, I always hear over and over again that I'm worthless and don't deserve it. I stop and think of everyone else and their own problems they have to deal with and feel guilty for even considering weighing them down with mine. They are my friends, and I am always there for them no matter what, but I don't expect them to be there for me... really, how is that a friendship?

I've failed myself. I've failed C. I've failed T.

I burnt my arm.

I lied to my boyfriend when he saw the blister and asked what happened. I lied to my best friend.

The shame is overwhelming.

I burnt my arm with a cigarette to stop the pain, the hurt, the sadness, the anger, the shame, the frustration, the confusion.

Momentary numbness.

I so desperately want to burn and cut again.

Momentary numbness.

I've failed.

I did it again...

Blog Carnival - Second Edition

Second edition of the Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse

Sorry it took me a while to post this... please check it out and spread awareness.

Monday, July 24, 2006


Have you felt complacent with being discontented? Like things are falling apart around but you just don't give a damn anymore?

Let it all fall. Shatter to a million pieces... the echo reverberating.


For the past few days I've adopted a whatever attitude. I don't give a damn if I don't wake up tomorrow. I don't give a damn if I do. I'm just here. Flesh and bones, blood and breath but nothing more.

It doesn't matter what I do, or what I don't do. It doesn't matter who I am, or who I may become. I'm just an ant in the farm, scurrying around in the mix of a billion other ants.

I've dodged the black boot many times trying not to be crushed. I'm not dodging it anymore. If it happens, I'll welcome it, if it doesn't I'll silently curse and just keep scurrying.

Thursday, July 20, 2006

I hate her

I fucking hate you. After everything I've done for you, after everything I've given up for you... have you ever given anything up for me? Have you ever done anything for me?


You only bring me down. You're only happy when you've crushed me.

I had to claim bankruptcy because of you. I spent every last fucking penny I had on you when you were sick and not working. Now when I'm in a jam and I ask you for help what do I fucking get?

"I've been where you've been, deal with it"

Well fuck you.


The worst part of it? I expected you to help me. I actually thought you would. But no, it's like you punched me in the gut and spit in my face.

Thanks mom...


I'm feeling abandoned. It hurts. I know it's for the better that C is not completely there for me, it's part of the transition. It's how it has to be. It still hurts. And I still feel abandoned.

It was my choice. My choice to switch to face to face therapy. It is a good choice. I know this. The sessions have already proved to be very helpful. It's really hard making the transition. I don't feel completely safe with T yet, and trust is still building.

I feel like I'm causing more problems for myself with the change.

I NEEDED to talk about what happened with my boyfriend, I needed to go over it, examine what happened and figure out how to avoid it in the future. For over a week now I've been pretending to be asleep so it doesn't repeat and I hate myself for that. I hate that I can't just tell him I don't want to, because I want to tell him, but I'm scared. I'm scared if I say not right now he'll leave. Of course I think that! It's all I've known.

Use me, abuse me, hurt me, leave me.

I'm angry at C for telling me that it's probably better discussed with new T. At the same time, I understand why C would say that. It's important that I stop relying and I guess needing to talk only to her, but at the same time I've been left with this, left alone to struggle with it. Maybe I'm misdirecting some anger. I know that if I had pressed the issue, we would have talked about it, I wouldn't be alone with it, at least not completely. I'm more angry with myself for just simply agreeing with C and dropping the issue. I guess it's a good way to learn how to communicate my needs and be aware of the consequences if I don't.

At the same time I can't help feeling abandoned. I had asked for a session with C this week, but C said we should leave it as is and schedule a session for August. I agreed yet again, even though I didn't want that. Maybe it's for the better, maybe it will be easier when we stop working together. And I can't always get what I want.

But I still feel abandoned.

Monday, July 17, 2006

From one extreme to another

I spent the weekend at my cabin doing absolutely nothing! I read a book, took long naps, ate well balanced meals, took my dogs for walks. I was mostly relaxed and stress free until Sunday evening when I had to drive home. I didn't want to leave, I didn't want to go back to reality - really who would?!

I woke up to my alarm this morning with a panic attack? My stomach was in a knot, my heart was pounding and my chest felt very tight, my hands clammy... I smoked a cigarette and tried to breathe deeply to calm myself but it didn't work. I hopped in the shower and spent extra time just standing there hoping the warm water would relax me, but it didn't. The closer it got for me to leave for work the worse my - I guess - symptoms became. I spent a good 10 minutes bent over the toilet dry heaving before I was able to pull myself together enough to start the drive to work. Start being the keyword! I got to Tim Hortons for my customary morning coffee and it felt like the doors of my car were closing in on me, slowly crushing me. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't focus, everything was a blur. My arms started to tingle and my chest felt cold. I forced myself to act as normal as possible while I paid for my coffee and drove away. I kept both hands on the steering wheel and stared straight ahead. I think I ran a red light before I was really aware of where I was. I pulled off the road into a parking lot, rested my head on the steering wheel and just started to cry. I started talking to myself, saying over and over "what the fuck is wrong with you?" - I finally managed to pull it together enough to continue my drive to work.

I found a nicer area to park this morning mainly because I just drove around trying to avoid the inevitable. I spent the entire day feeling nauseus and uptight. Waiting for the commands to be barked, waiting to be told that this and that is wrong, having to ask to go to the bathroom, being expected to run at 140% and do the job of 4 people. Getting nothing but negative feedback. I can't take it much longer, yet I can't afford to just quit. The environment and treatment is unbelievably triggering and I leave every day feeling more and more defeated. I'm holding on because the schedule is perfect, being able to work from home when not forced into the office will be ideal for when I go back to school, but what is the limit? How much longer can I work on empty?

I'm absolutely exhausted. My body aches from being constantly tense. I feel like I could just fall over and sleep for days, yet when I finally do lay down and try to sleep I can't, my mind just won't quit. I'm scared to sleep because of nightmares. It's weird really, it's mainly during the week that I have problems sleeping. Come Friday night and I know I don't have to work the next day I'm sleeping by midnight, although it's not a restful sleep because the nightmares are still very much there. During the week I'm lucky if I'm asleep by 2am and and yet still abruptly waking during the night.

The stress from work, the stress from normal everyday issues, the stress from my past, the stress from healing, the stress from nightmares... I really am sick of it. Thoughts of just giving up have been surfacing more and more. I think of how easy it would be. How I would finally be free from all of this bullshit.

[Black and Blue]

Wednesday, July 12, 2006


I'm not doing very well.

My work life is extremely stressful - I'm not sleeping or eating. Every muscle in my body is tense. I'm filled with stress rage, on the verge of snapping. I normally work at home, but am in the office now for an indeterminable amount of time. I can't afford to pay for gas to drive here or parking since it's now over $10 a day. I am driving though because I start at 5am, as for parking, well I'm parking about 10 blocks away in a seedy residential area for free street parking. It's scary at 4:30 in the morning walking by myself in a terrible area of downtown. All week I've been getting yelled at, whistled at, sworn at, pestered for money or smokes... by the time I get to the office I'm exhausted and scared and ready to turn around and go home and hide in bed.

As for the other stuff, I've been trying to remember what "say it" was, what he was trying to get me to say. I want to know, yet at the same time I don't want to. My father has been calling me for the past week, his birthday is coming up and they want me to go over their house for dinner to celebrate. I haven't called them back. I know I'll feel guilty if I don't at least call him on his birthday, I hate him, despise him, but he's still my father and there was some good with him growing up even if everything he did to me overshadows the good. I don't know, even hearing his voice sends me reeling for a few days afterwards so it's probably better if I don't talk to him. I think what I may do is call him when I know no one is home and leave a message for him so I don't feel guilty.

Sometimes I think about what life would be like if I had a healthy relationship with my father. I watch shows on TV where the father is caring and supportive and will do anything to help or protect his daughter. When I see that, I'm filled with sadness. I'm embarrassed to admit it, but it is something I long for. Something I've never had but miss at the same...

Thanks for all the support everyone, I'm still having problems with comments so I haven't been able to respond directly. But know that I've read them and truly appreciate your words...

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Why can't I say no??

Sometimes I want to, other times I don't. Why the fuck can't I say no?

Saturday night my boyfriend and I had sex. I didn't want to. I wasn't in the mood. I laid there repeating over and over in my head that I don't want to do this, please don't touch me, maybe tomorrow, I'm not in the mood. But I couldn't say it out loud. Instead I just went with the motions and went inside myself to the place I sometimes go. I stared at the spot on the ceiling I used to stare at when my father hurt me. I don't know where I go...

Why couldn't I say anything?

I feel dirty. Ashamed. Used.

Pissed off at myself, hating myself, wanting to hurt myself.

I just don't get it.


Thursday, July 06, 2006

been a while

I haven't been able to write anything for a few weeks now, every time I come here I get a burning sensation in my chest and I just can't type. I'm sorry I haven't been around to offer support...

I've been thinking non-stop since the session with T today. I had to put on the happy, life kicks ass face right after the session because I was with my best friend after work because I had to go into the office today and we carpooled this morning.

I don't even remember the question that triggered me. What played out before my eyes was fucking terrible. I saw me, the little girl me, and my father doing things to me telling me to say it, I don't know what IT is, but I wouldn't say it. I refused to say it, and he kept pressing the cigarette on my thigh telling me to say it. Say it. Say it.

I wouldn't. Fuck, I wish I knew what IT was...

I didn't even remember this until today. I haven't the foggiest idea what we talked about prior to this taking center stage. And I haven't been able to remove it from my wonderful mind either. It's been in the back, poking it's way out at the most inopportune times - funny (not ha ha!) how it seems to work that way...

I said today that I don't really think about any of this except in the one hour sessions, and I guess that's not true. Well, it's true in the sense that I TRY not to, but the more I think about it, the more I realise all of this has consumed my life. The more I try to push everything down, suffocate it and pretend none of it happened, the more consuming it becomes. The more frequent the nightmares/flashbacks haunt me. The seemingly innocent comments or touches send me reeling into myself. The more I fight it the worse it gets, the further into my shell I retreat.

It's scary in my shell. Lonely.

I'm beating myself up for not talking about what I remembered during the session. The drill sergeant is having a heyday with this, he's perched on his box, megaphone in hand shouting that I'm a worthless idiot. Kinda wish I had a mute button... in time I guess, just getting sick of the waiting...

I almost lost control in session today. I came so very close to crying...

Wednesday, June 28, 2006


Monday night I was rocked with nightmares. Very vivid nightmares. I woke up from the first one crying and talking. The fact that I was talking really scared me. I woke up saying "daddy please..." I was clutching onto a pillow, racked with fear.

I'm not sure when I finally fell back to sleep, but the second nightmare was worse than the first. I think I'm nuts... when I bolted awake, I swear I saw my father standing over me. He was THERE, but he wasn't really there... It scared the hell out of me to say the least, I haven't slept since. I'm afraid to.

The second nightmare was just that, a nightmare. My brain decided to torture me and do something different... My father and rapist were both there, holding me down. Taking. Turns. Raping. Me. It seemed so real though, so scary...

I've had a similar dream as this before, similar as in they were both there. Except HE was raping me and my father came downstairs and pulled him off me and shouted that I was his play thing and no one elses...

How fucking disturbing is that?

His play thing...

I am NOT a play thing. I'm a human being. I'm a person. A women.

I AM NOT A PLAY THING come I feel like it though?

Friday, June 23, 2006

Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse

Thanks to Marj for creating this... To all the incredibly strong and courageous people who contributed, thank you for sharing. I find your words inspiring and hopeful...

Blog Carnival

Monday, June 19, 2006


Today, well... FUCK!

When I'm all alone
And no one else is there
Waiting by the phone
To remind me
I'm still here
When shadows paint the scenes
Where spotlights used to fall
And I'm left wondering
Is it really worth it all?

Life can hold you down
When you're not looking up
Can't you hear the sound?
Hearts beating out loud
Although the names change
Inside were all the same
Why can't we tear down these walls?
To show the scars were covering

Thursday, June 15, 2006


I had my second session with new T yesterday, it went rather well.

We talked about how I was dissociating in the first session and T went over the session with me so I would know what happened. T went on to talk about how it's OK not to trust her right now and not to feel safe, but that it is a safe space and she is a safe person. T also said it's perfectly OK to feel ambivalent with her or the sessions. By her being the instigator on the subject and knowing that I didn't feel safe and wasn't sure if I could trust her created a safer space for me - kudos to her, she's good at what she does!

The first session I was scared of her. I'm not sure what I was scared of, but in my mind she was a monster. Very intimidating. Yesterday, I actually saw her. She shared a bit about herself which also made her more human and less scary.

I took a depression test, the BDI. I scored 38 which labeled me as severely depressed. We talked a lot about how I still get out of bed in the morning, how I still function in the world feeling the way I do. I told her that I don't have a choice, if I want to live I HAVE to get out of bed in the morning, if I don't I can't live, I can't support myself or even start to take care of myself, it's something I HAVE to do. T gently reminded me that it's not something I have to do at all, I could collapse, I could stay in bed but I'm making a choice not to. I'm CHOOSING to get out of bed, I'm CHOOSING to take care of myself and continue working, to maintain my independence. I laughed. My counselor (this might get confusing, sorry!) has told me that numerous times, but I didn't completely believe it. I don't want to end up homeless and in a worse situation... that's a choice! It's was an AH HA! moment... the light bulb went off. This may sound stupid, but I didn't really know what a choice was and I didn't know I had a choice in the matter.

We touched on a very uncomfortable subject, T asked if I had self injuring behaviors. I wanted to jump out of the chair and run out the door. I couldn't look at her, I kept my head down and stared at my feet. I held my breath for what felt like an eternity before I breathed out the word yes. After I said yes, I looked at T, I NEEDED to see her reaction. T gave me what I needed and wanted, her expression wasn't one of disgust or shock, but one of understanding and kindness.

All of the seemingly little things T does is helping to create a safe space and slowly building trust.

I'm feeling a tiny bit more stronger today...

Monday, June 12, 2006


Thanks to everyone for your thoughts and ideas regarding the T's... you've all given me some really good things to think about. (I would reply via comments but I've been getting page cannot be displayed on all comments links for almost a week now) I think I am going to talk to my counselor about being a support person and start heading in the direction of the new T. I see T again this Wednesday, hopefully it won't be as hard and I'll be more present in the session. We'll see how it goes...

This weekend has been terrible and wonderful at the same time.

My dogs got into a fight. Spazz has a history of getting too excited which causes him to get stressed and he becomes aggressive towards the other dogs. Usually it's directed towards the other male in the pack, but this time it was directed at his sister Sandy. He hurt her fairly bad, and she has a 2 inch puncture on her face. I was devastated. I was thinking of putting Spazz down because he is unpredictable with the other dogs.

I can't do it.

I spent all of Saturday into Sunday morning crying and thinking. I kept thinking of how it's not his fault, he was abused and had I had him from a puppy he wouldn't be this way. I also thought about how I could help him. I don't think he deserves to be put down, he's a great dog in all other regards. I came to the conclusion of working with him and the other dogs more. I have an action plan...

I'm going to ensure they don't get too wound up and if they do, I will remove them from the situation. I will take them on more walks to help get rid of their energy. And I've got a couple books to read on how to work with canine aggression towards other canines.

I hope to God this works... I can't give up on him. I can't abandon him when he needs me to the most.

Some of you may be thinking it's just a dog. Well he's not. He's my best friend. He's one of the reasons I'm alive today. I rescued him and he's helped save me. I can't describe it any other way. He's my little boy...

My boyfriend and I have done a lot of talking about where we are headed. We've been together for eight months. He's good for me. He's there for me. I'm there for him. He makes me smile. He supports me. He's everything I've ever wanted in a man and with him, I feel safe. I trust him. I love him.

We're moving in together at the end of July.

I'm excited.

Wednesday, June 07, 2006

New Therapist

So today I had a session with a new therapist. I wanted to see if I could handle face to face therapy.

Wow. It's so incredibly different. So much more challenging. More scary. Harder. Terrifying. Anxiety inducing.

I couldn't stop fidgeting or bouncing my knee or tapping my foot. I kept repeating in my head I want out of here, I don't want to be here, I don't like this.

The new T (T=therapist) has years of experience working with sexually abused women.

Being able to see facial expressions accompanying voice tones had a greater impact on me today. But at the same time, being looked at and watched and knowing that you're being watched and every movement you make is being scrutinized is completely unnerving. I told T that I wasn't comfortable with her looking at me all the time, especially if I'm thinking/processing something. She agreed not to do it as often or as long but said it's important for her to look at me for nonverbal queues.

T tried to delve into some heavy stuff today, but I wasn't going there. I warned her upfront that I'm going to be very resistant and closed off until I trust her and feel safe, and that it may take a long time for that to happen. After about 30 minutes into the session I interrupted her and told that I don't really remember what we've been talking about. She thanked me for letting her know I'm dissociating.

T prefers if I slowly stop working with my current counselor and focus working solely with her. I don't know what I think about that. There's a huge attachment to my current counselor, and I'm not sure that's such a good thing, but it allows me to talk to her and be honest. It took almost 6 months to develop that and I'm not ready to give that up and have to work again from the bottom with the new T. I trust my current counselor completely and I finally feel safe talking about things in our sessions. I've got some thinking to do I guess, and I would rather just work with both to cover different aspects. Practice saying things out loud with my counselor before even attempting it with T would be preferable. I don't know, the idea of not having sessions with my counselor scares the fuck outta me...

I guess that's what makes the counselor/client relationship so unique. There's this person, a real feeling person who listens to everything you say, gives you 100% of their focus/attention for an hour, they don't judge you or criticise you, they just listen and help you to see things differently, to make positive changes in your life... in a sense they're the best friend you've never had or lost. They're the stuffed animal or pet that you pour your heart out to, except they talk back. And you pay them. And everything is solely about you. So really, they're just there to help you and once you've been helped or healed you don't need them anymore, but I think you still want them there... I'm not really sure where this is going, I'm just rambling now... I guess I'm trying to say because I started working with my counselor and there's an attachment and a deep level of trust and security I'm not even remotely ready to give that up. She has helped me immensely, taken me to places I didn't think possible a year ago and I want to see it to the end with her.

But... at the same time I think the face to face will be more helpful in the long run. Being able to look into T's eyes as I told her something really hard and seeing the impact and softness and compassion and hearing it at the same time was healing in itself, even though it was terribly frightening and when the session was over I had to force myself not to run out the door and flee to my car.

I DON'T want to stop working with my counselor. I WANT to continue working face to face with new T. I think I can handle it, I think we can make it work. I WANT to make it work.... but is it possible?

Monday, June 05, 2006

hating this

The weekend was OK. I spent a lot of time lying in the hot sun. I wish I could say I got some really good thinking in, but I just stared blankly at the trees and listened to the songs of the birds. It was a fight to keep the tears at bay.

I usually love it at my cabin. I love being outdoors and in the woods. I'm fascinated with trees, every tree is completely unique. I love waking up, sitting on the deck with a cup of coffee, smoking a cigarette and listening to the birds with my eyes closed. It's completely grounding and reminds me how beautiful life really is.

I didn't really enjoy it this time though.

I felt like crying instead of smiling.

Friday, June 02, 2006

barely holding it together


Combine all of those feelings and there I am, trapped in the middle. Drowning.

I haven't resorted to SI. Every hour that ticks by is an accomplishment.

ML pointed out something I didn't see - I'm feeling. I'm feeling intense, heavy feelings. That's a good thing. Haven't let myself feel anything like this before and I guess I wouldn't be feeling all of these things if I wasn't "ready" to feel them on some level.

I'm trying really really hard to stay strong. To keep pushing myself to keep my head above water. I don't know how much longer I can keep it up. It seems the never ending inner strength isn't really never ending and the end is fast approaching.

I'm going to my cabin for the weekend. My boyfriend, best friend and I are leaving this evening. My father never hurt me at the cabin, it's my only safe space. Maybe it'll help...

Something has to give... and thanks to my stubbornness, it's NOT going to be me.

The longer I sit here and stare at the screen, the more sad and angry I'm getting.

I'm fucking confused. And I'm pissed off.

The entire time in NY my father was the way all fathers should be. He was really kind and caring, told stories about me as a kid, funny ones that I didn't even remember. He took care of me.

I really don't want to admit it, but I enjoyed it. Warm feelings towards him started to develop, but at the same time my hatred grew. I wanted to punch him in the face. I wanted to scream at him that he doesn't have a right to act fatherly, that he lost it the second he laid his perverted hands on me. I wanted to tell him to fuck off...

More than anything... I wanted him to say he's sorry. I wanted him to apologize for everything he did. I don't know why I want an apology, it won't take anything away or make it better. Well, it will take away the blame I still lay upon myself - still faltering with the whole it's not my fault thing.

And I'm crying again.


Why can't I just suck it up? Plunge it down and carry on?


I am so fucking sick of just surviving. So sick of carrying this fucking bullshit with me all the damn time. I don't even know what it would be like to be free from this crap. What it would be like to wake up in the morning and smile and look forward to the day? What it would feel like to be clean instead of constantly feeling dirty and disgusting?

I feel so defeated.

Thursday, June 01, 2006

Lonely Day

[Phantom Planet]

I have nothing left to say, this song kinda says it for me

Wednesday, May 31, 2006


I'm so tired. I just want to give up. I don't have the energy or the strength to keep fighting this.

I feel so incredibly hopeless.

I'm not worth it. I'm not worth helping.


It's not worth struggling through this. I always end up in the same place - feeling like a piece of a shit.

I hurt.
I'm sad. Beyond sad.

I want to give up. I want to sleep. Forever.

The tears are just pouring out, yet I'm feeling worse. I can't stop them.

I want to hurt myself. I want to cut. Slash. Erase the pain.

I wish I had the courage to just... fuck I don't know. Thoughts of killing myself are running rampant right now. The sweet relief. The end of turmoil.

I'm reading the contract I signed with my counsellor. I can't break it. I want to. I really really want to. But it's not the answer, I have to keep telling myself it's not the answer.

This too shall end.

But when?

I'm tired.


So here I am. I'm home.

I don't want to be here. I don't want to be anywhere actually.

Today is not a good day. Yesterday wasn't either.

I'm not sure how I am. I'm here, I'm breathing, but I'm not alive - if that makes sense. I don't know how to explain it.

I'm feeling sad I think, yet numb at the same time.

Fuck I've lost my mind.

ML said it best when she said she felt like two people...

I'm questioning my sanity. I suppose that's a good thing. Crazy people don't often think they're crazy...right?

I haven't felt like doing anything for a few months now. I've been trying really hard to hide it from everyone by doing more things than I normally do. Overcompensation. I don't even want to get out of bed in the mornings anymore. I just want to curl up and cry. The more I try to hide it the worse it's getting.

Can depression get worse, even with anti-depressants?

I feel hopeless. I feel worthless.

And in case some of you are thinking this is related to spending a week with my father, this has been going on long before that. Although I'm sure seeing him as much as I did wasn't helpful.

I don't know why I constantly have the need to hide how I'm really feeling. Actually, I do. As a kid I had to hide everything. It's a hard habit to break I guess.

Aw well whatever... it's another day I'm still breathing...

Friday, May 26, 2006

New York

I'm having a wonderful time, yet finding myself growing more sad and depressed. Scared and exhausted.

I don't understand.

My father has not done or sad anything inappropriate.

I'm in NY, I've seen a Broadway play, spent hours in Central Park and Battery Park. I'm living my dream.

But I'm not enjoying it.

I've been on edge, extremely hypervigilant for a week now.

I want to go home. I want to see my boyfriend whom I miss terribly. I want to play with my dogs. I want to sleep in my own bed.

I don't want to go home. I don't want to walk into that house, walk in that ROOM and be flooded with memories.

I don't know. I'm rambling. There's a million things going on inside of my head, a million feelings, a billion thoughts, I can't seem to pinpoint a single one.

I wish I could just open my mouth and close my eyes and all of the things that are trapped inside of me are released, silently screaming from within and polluting the air around me instead of poisoning my insides.


fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

Friday, May 19, 2006

Pep Talk

I'm off to New York tomorrow for a week.

I've been really scared and nervous for the past few weeks as I'm going to New York with my father and his wife. His wife offered the trip as a way for me to get away from everything for a while, and by everything they mean the separation and pending divorce. They paid for the plane ticket and hotel for me and I just couldn't turn it down.

On many levels I wish did decline the offer.

I'm terrified that he is going to manipulate a situation so we are alone together. Terrified that he's going to say something triggering or touch me inappropriately. Scared to death that I will turn into that scared little girl and freeze if he does do anything.

I won't freeze. I can't let myself. I NEED to stand up and tell him NO! You can't touch me or say things like that to me, it's wrong and I won't allow it.

I would love it if I could just say... OK y'know what, DON'T! DON'T EVER fucking touch me again. DON'T EVER fucking say those things to me again.

I'm afraid I won't be able to.

I'm terrified that I might have to.

I KNOW I absolutely need to.

If I don't, I'll be back to where I started. I'll take so many steps backwards in my healing. I can't let that happen.

I CAN say something if I need to.

I CAN protect myself.

I WILL protect myself.

My counsellor used what I call the "D card" - we talked about this during our last session and the importance of protecting myself. The "D card" is my counsellor being disappointed in me if I don't protect myself. Hearing her say she's disappointed was almost catastrophic the first (and hopefully the last) time, I couldn't handle disappointing her and myself at the same time. I was a wreck for days after that. I know she said it because it's an incredible driving force for me to protect myself. I don't really like the pressure of the "D card" but I know it's that needed push to ensure I do stand up and protect myself.


I have to...

On a side note, take care everyone. And ML - it's NOT YOUR FAULT.

Thursday, May 18, 2006

Letter to my father

I've been writing this for months, I can never quite articulate what I really want to say. How angry I am. How much pain he caused. This is just a start and I don't think there will ever really be an end...

I fucking hate you.

You stole my innocence. You stole my ability to be a child. You stole my ability to trust. You destroyed the precious father daughter relationship I longed for.

You stole everything that was pure.

I was just a little girl. Why did you do those things to me? Why did you have to hurt me? Why did you always tell me I was daddy's special girl... that I was the most beautiful girl in the world until you would hurt me then you would say I was ugly and that you hated me. Is that why you hurt me, because you hated me and I deserved it? Is there something I did to deserve it? Was I not good enough? I always tried so hard to please you, to be the best daughter you could have and yet you still continued to hurt me.

Asking these questions are ridiculous. NOTHING I did or could have done was reason enough to do those terrible things to me. To hurt me in so many ways, to scar my life, to take away my childhood. To destroy my innocence.

The hate I have for you is so encompassing I think it will swallow me whole. I sometimes think about how I could cause you the same turmoil you have caused me, but that is just not possible. There is nothing that I could inflict on you that you would even remotely begin to equal the pain you have caused me.

How do you wake up every morning knowing what you did to me? How do you look at yourself in the mirror and not see the monster you really are? How do you laugh and smile and lead a normal life while I'm left struggling each and every fucking day?

Do you remember the hair brush? Do you remember the hot curling iron? Do you remember the cigarette burns you left on my thighs? Do you remember my cries of pain? Do you remember me pleading and begging you to stop? Do you remember laughing at me?

I remember.

I will NEVER be able to fucking forget. I will never be able to erase the pain, the memories, the terror or confusion.

I despise you. I can barely wait till the day you die so I can spit on your grave.

Fuck you daddy dearest.


I decided to post this today because it's NOT MY FAULT. It never has been my fault. It never will be my fault.

My counsellor said that to me in one of our sessions, I can't remember if it was yesterday or last week but it has been sitting with me, weighing heavily on my mind.


I am really very angry.

Today I recognize and accept that it is not my fault. I understand that tomorrow or next week or next month I may not. When we first started working on this, I saw it as all or nothing. I either accept 100% that it was not my fault ALL of the time, or I accept that it was ALL of the time. No in between, no grey area. I'm giving myself permission to have a grey area. To go back and forth with it either being or not being my fault. Eventually, I will no longer need the grey area and it will forever be NOT MY FAULT.

I need this grey area because I have hit a wall. I have been so terrified of even trying to accept that it's not my fault because of what it means and the changes it brings. To accept that it wasn't my fault means I have to change my way of thinking, my way of coping, my way of surviving. Everything. And I would have to do it all at once, leaving me floundering. With the grey area, I'm not floundering. I'm still scared, but I'm not terrified and pressed against a wall barely breathing. I can see the other side, I can see how it's not my fault and understand that it's not my fault and slowly let go of the shame and guilt, the hatred, the disgust I hold for myself. I can slowly start to adapt to the loss of those feelings and thoughts allowing room for new thoughts and feelings.

This is going to be a very long, rough journey with many bumps, hills and valleys along the way. I kind of wish I had a map to guide me, but with all you, my counsellor and the inner strength that sometimes seems never ending I'm sure I'll reach the end in one piece, a fuller more complete piece.