Negative

Got my test results back - negative of course! Still it was relieving to hear my doc say you're negative!! Got the first of the vaccine today, go back on March 28th for the second injection.

Things are pretty much back to normal between my friend and I which is great. I'm impressed that something I was so reluctant and scared to do actually worked out for the better. Kudos to my counsellor for pushing me to talk to him about it... and I guess kudos to me for actually doing it!

I've been OK for the past couple of days, too busy to really think about anything. I'm enjoying the reprieve, it is kind of like a vacation!

Conflict 101

So we talked a little bit more. Finally got it out of him that he has been in a terrible mood working nights and is jealous that I'm going out and having fun without him. He said he wanted to take back everything he said if he could, but he can't, all he can do is apologize and hope I forgive him. This is more like the person I know. We're sweeping it under the carpet and all is OK.

This has been good practice for addressing conflicts.

Am I Dwelling?

Dwell: To fasten ones attention: kept dwelling on what went wrong

I guess I am dwelling.

I'm really confused now.

I got his reply.

You're not the same person I once knew, you've changed too much. You're dwelling on what happened to you. You need to move on, maybe not forget, but certainly move on. You're not very much fun to be around anymore and I can't take your mood swings either. I never know if you're going to be happy and loving life or so quiet and withdrawn you just stare off into space. I don't mean to hurt you, that's not my intention. Sorry.

I dunno...

This is... (was??) my best friend...

This is why I don't say anything, why I just take whatever it is people throw at me. It's easier, and they only get to hurt me once...

I want to curl up in a ball, in a cocoon and cry, scream, grieve for old losses and for new ones...

Whatever

Wake me up when this nightmare is over

Had a session with my counsellor yesterday. It was a really good session, we covered some vital parts... and came to make a decision that has me all freaked out!

I'm going to talk to my friend who told me to be a big girl, forget about it, move on.

I'm not one for confrontation or being assertive with men. I have no problem being assertive with women, with men, it's a different story. I can't express what I want or need, I let them do whatever they want, treat me however they want, anything - it's my normal and I don't like it. I hate it actually. But I'm terrified to change...

I'm terrified to be vulnerable - so easily hurt.
I'm terrified to change - but terrified not to.
I'm afraid to take risks - can't bear not to.
I'm scared to be alone - but want to be.

So I emailed him the article and apologized for being moody and irritable lately but explained that that is just me right now, part of everything that I am going through. I told him that it really hurt when he said I'm a big girl now and should forget and move on.

Waiting for his reply is driving me insane.

This is another big step for me. Confrontation, in a sense, but more so standing up for myself and taking action against someone who hurt me, especially a man.

Embracing change...

I CAN DO THIS!

Not OK

Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And, the worst part is there's no one else to blame





I'm not OK.

I keep telling myself to keep my head up, stay strong, using the mantra of this too shall pass - it sure doesn't feel like it though.

I keep repeating the same mistakes over and over again. I just don't learn.

I've been trying to stuff all of these rotten feelings down, keep them anchored and I KNOW it only makes it worse. I know from experience, yet I keep doing it. Old habits die hard maybe?? Nah, I'm just an idiot.

A failure. A disappointment. A waste of time.

Wow! It's really sad how I beat myself up and repeat the words I heard all the time growing up.

All alone, I don't like the feeling
All alone, I sit and cry
All alone, I have to find some meaning
In the center of the pain I feel inside

I burned my arm...

I went

I went and got the blood test tonight.

I am fucking terrified of needles.

I warned the lab tech that it's next to impossible to get blood from me. I have almost no veins, and I swear what is there goes into hiding the second I walk into a lab. I usually have to get stabbed 3 or 4 times before they can find a vein, PER ARM! They like to put the needle in, move it around while it's in my arm, pull it in and out - like a dentist giving you a needle to freeze your gums.

I fucking hate needles.

This lady, I looked her straight in the eyes and told her, she checked both arms, had me making fists, dangling them and jiggling them around to get the blood flowing. It took about 10 minutes but she found a vein, a deep one, and poked me - PRESTO! She hit the vein.

Truly amazing!

Thanks for the encouragement everyone, I wouldn't have gone without your kind words!

Now, here's to waiting...

And mildly hoping...

Dresden Dolls

::::bad habit:::::

biting keeps your words at bay
tending to the sores that stay
happiness is just a gash away
when i open a familiar scar
pain goes shooting like a star
comfort hasn't failed to follow so far...

and you might say it's self-indulgent
you might say its self-destructive
but, you see, it's more productive
than if i were to be healthy

and pens and penknives take the blame
crane my neck and scratch my name
but the ugly marks
are worth the momentary gain...
when i jab a sharpened object in
choirs of angels seem to sing
hymns of hate in memorandum

and you might say it's self-indulgent
and you might say it's self-destructive
but, you see, it's more productive
than if i were to be happy

and sappy songs about sex and cheating
bland accounts of two lovers meeting
make me want to give mankind a beating

and you might say it's self-destructive
but, you see, i'd kick the bucket
sixty times before i'd kick the habit

and as the skin rips off i cherish the revolting thought
that even if i quit
there's not a chance in hell i'd stop
and anyone can see the signs
mittens in the summertime
thank you for your pity, you are too kind

and you might say its self-inflicted
but you see that's contradictive
why on earth would anyone practice self destruction?

and pain opinions are sitcom feeding
they dont know that their minds are teething
makes me want to give mankind a beating

i'm tried bandages and sinking
i've tried gloves and even thinking
i've tried vaseline
i've tried everything
and no-one cares if your back is bleeding
they're concerned with their hair receding
looking back it was all maltreating
every thought that occurred misleading

makes me want to give myself a beating....

Own worst enemy

I still haven't gone for the blood test to make sure I didn't get Hep B from my boyfriend. I'm a little freaked out actually.

I'm fairly positive I don't have it. But there's always that minute possibility that I could, and honestly, that scares me. Part of me.

But at the same time... A part of me hopes that I have it, that it makes me sick and kills me. That's the part that still thinks of killing myself. The part that doesn't want to keep spending all this time and energy on healing. The part that is so ultimately sick of everything in her life she doesn't give a shit whether she lives or dies. Hmmm.. started writing in third person.. alright!

It's the part that doesn't give a fuck that's winning.

I'll go tomorrow... or the day after, maybe next week...

This might help

I've posted some of this before, I'm reposting it because I need to read it again.

I need to be validated.

Why can't I get on with my life?
Some impacts of childhood sexual abuse on the life of adult survivors.
By Juliet Summers B.A., B.S.W. (Survivor 1961 - 73)

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

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

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

What Is This Thing Called Love?
Adult survivors therefore, do not have the same outlook on life as non-abused adults. As a child, someone they trusted hurt and manipulated them. Not understanding what was happening, but somehow 'knowing' that it was wrong, they assimilate many deviant behaviours into their understanding of 'normality'. They grow up with a different view of many of the cornerstones of inter-human relationships and interactions.

An example would be the concept of 'love'. Often the abuser will say that they love the child. The non-offending parent(s) will say they love the child. Love is then understood to be a good thing - people who love you care for you, comfort you when you are sad, give you presents on your birthday, make you feel happy etc. It is also a bad thing that leads you to get physically hurt, to become terrified at times, makes you feel embarrassed or dominated. It will include forced involvement in activities that must be shrouded in secrecy and which you will not be able terminate, avoid or have any control over. To a child being abused, this becomes what 'love' is. Upon reaching adulthood the social pressure to find a life partner to love and that loves you in return is seen as a dubious or alarming goal. The survivor may also 'love' someone else and may view this emotion in themselves as forever corrupted. Anyone who proclaims love may 'naturally' be viewed with suspicion, perhaps dread or fear, or at best with wariness. The other person's motives will always be open to speculation.

To try to grasp complex emotional concepts like love, children group experiences into simplistic extremes. Good or bad, black or white, there is no grey. They can't differentiate between one trusted adult's behaviour and that of another's. Therefore, if one trusted adult abuses them, this experience is not taken away by the non-abusive relationships they experience, it just becomes part of their understanding of 'relationship'. The child learns not that 'some adults do bad things', but that 'all trusted people can do bad things.' This includes even the child itself. Like many other aspects of their developing psychological make up, this distrust becomes an integral part of their socialised constructs - their sense of how they see themselves and others and how people relate. It is just the same as their sense of humor or ability to reason. As with these psychological traits, once it is integrated it can never be 'unlearned' or erased. It 'just is'.

In adults, this total acceptance of distorted worldviews form the basis of many survivors beliefs about their 'true selves'. These views are like coloured lenses placed on the eyes of the survivor - they see everything through them and are usually totally unaware of their existence. It forms the core of their beliefs of themselves and of how others see them. It is through these lenses that they observe others interactions with themselves. As the beliefs are tainted with shame and guilt, they promote isolationist or self-destructive behaviours (I hate myself, you have no idea what I'm 'really' like, I am unlovable, you're only being nice to me because you want something). It is common for these beliefs to go unchallenged until the survivor begins sexual assault counselling.

I don't understand...

How do you explain to someone the effect of sexual abuse who has never experienced it?

How do you convey the damage it has caused with mere words?

How do you express the magnitude of how it's affected every facet of your life?

There's a person in my life who knows what I've experienced. I told them I was sexually abused by my father and date raped. They witnessed the physical and emotional abuse of my ex-husband. I told this person because they are my best friend...

This person said something yesterday... they said that I'm a "big girl" now, it happened years ago stop dwelling on it and forget about it.

I can understand their position as they have not experienced trauma. They have not been violated, tainted. They honestly don't know what it's like to lose your innocence, trust, protection, nurturing, to feel completely and utterly worthless...

I get that.

If I can understand, accept and appreciate that, why can't they understand WHY it's affecting me?

I'm really uncomfortable with this person now and I feel very invalidated.

You're allowed

the boys that split your lip
and hurt your pride
they broke you
more than you know

all the secret things
that bump in the night
the wolves outside your door
you're allowed to feel afraid
you're allowed to feel alone
you're allowed to ask out loud

the boys that pulled your hair
and hurt your pride
they broke you more than you know
and that drowning dream
that comes in the night
the wolves outside your door

you're allowed to feel afraid
you're allowed to feel alone
you're allowed to ask out loud

your eyes burn with sleep and your ears stop hearing me
like when his body relaxes over you
there's nothing in the world, there's nothing that's for real

You're allowed

Written By Jon Levine

I survived!

I survived Vday. I'm physically intact, emotionally, well, not so much.

Our evening was wonderful. He spoiled me, took me out for dinner to my favorite restaurant, which I didn't even know he knew! If it was any other day, it would have been as close to perfect as possible.

I put all of my energy into numbing myself last night. It served me well, yesterday.

Today is a different story.

I'm just plain sick of this.

I don't have the energy to write what's going on for me right now...

ARG!!!!!!!!!

And it's here

V-Day.

It's all in my head. I'm doing this to myself. I must be. I've got to somehow learn to let go and stop torturing myself. I thought by writing out my rape, getting the poison out, it would alleviate what I was dreading would happen today.

Boy was I wrong.

I'm wrought with grief, sadness, pain. The tears are trying to come, but I won't let them. I can't deal with this right now.

My boyfriend is taking me out for a romantic dinner at an unknown restaruant. He won't tell me where we are going, and honestly, that scares me. I know he's trying to be sly and romantic and stuff, but it really has me freaked out. I think it has to do with control.

I don't think I'm ready to celebrate today.

Rape - Part 3

[Rape - Part 1] [Rape - Part 2]

He forced his penis into my mouth. It made me gag. He ejaculated. He clawed at my shirt and bra, ripping them off. He bit me so hard in places he broke the skin. Silent tears streamed down my face. I prayed for this to be over soon, for him to leave me alone. To stop hurting me.

He forced himself into me. Red hot searing pain. A muffled groan of pain escaped my lips. He was pawing at me, kissing my neck when he whispered in my ear, "you know you like it." I closed my eyes and it felt like I floated out of my body. I was suspended above, watching him hurt this person who wasn't me, who couldn't be me. I opened my eyes and I was back in hell, back in my body. He let go of my arms and I just lied there, unable to move, the tears being the only function still working. He finished and sunk onto me panting in my ear. I turned my head and silently wished the world away. He got up and zipped up his jeans. He stood there staring at me for what felt like an eternity. His eyes cold and empty. He leaned down, kissed my check and whispered "I love you." I heard him make his way upstairs and waited for the door to close behind him. An animal scream erupted from my very core and I rolled over into the fetal position and just sobbed.

The rage boiled in me and erupted. I screamed "I want to die" and started punching my legs and chest. I grabbed a pillow and ripped it apart, all the while the tears were just raging down my cheeks. I repeated over and over "I hate you... I hate you" I knelt on the floor with my head in my hands rocking back and forth whispering I hate you as if in a trance. I'm not sure if the hatred was directed at him or myself. I finally got up and went to the bathroom, I looked at myself in the full length mirror and collapsed on the floor. I had a black eye and a fat lip, there were teeth marks with remnants of blood on my chest. I couldn't bear to look at myself and wanted to destroy the mirror, in essence destroying myself. I got up and took a shower. A boiling hot shower. The water burned as it hit my skin, but it still wasn't hot enough. I scrubbed and scrubbed trying to remove his filth. I stayed in the shower just staring at the wall, off in my own world. I'm not sure how long I stood there but I came back to earth shivering from the ice cold water.

I walked to my bedroom and collapsed on my bed. I started sucking my thumb and the tears just started falling again.

Tomorrow marks seven years. Seven years since he raped me. Seven years I've been carrying this around, six of them I remained silent and told no one.

I have been dreading Valentines Day since December. I'm hoping that by writing this out, by getting it out, tomorrow isn't going to hold as much power over me as it normally does...

Rape - Part 2

[Rape - Part 1]

I tried to get away from him. I tried to twist and squirm; kick and push - nothing I did seemed good enough. He straddled me and had my arms pinned above my head. He was looking at me with this twisted smile, a far away look in his eyes. I gave one last kick and managed to knee him in the crotch. He crumpled on top of me and I managed to flip myself over so I was free, I tried to scramble away, my body not really listening to the signal my brain was sending, RUN! I was a few feet away from him when he reached out and grabbed my ankle, pulling me back to him. He pinned me down with his knees on my chest and punched me in the face, calling me a bitch.

I can see the look on his face. I can see the anger, but I can also see a softness. I can see him above me, almost feel his knees on my chest. His mouth is angry, ready and waiting to spew ugliness. His eyes have that far away look, like he's daydreaming, not really there. I remember his smile as he undid his belt. There was a sick loving smile and softness in his eyes as he started to violate me...

I hate you.

Part 1 - feelings

I've read what I wrote about a million times and the only feeling that is constant is anger. Anger seems to be the feeling for most things, the one feeling I allow myself to experience freely. The one feeling I don't try to bottle up and ignore. I wonder why it's OK for me to be angry and not sad...

Anger.

I am angry. I want to break things, I want to throw things, I want to throw myself on the floor and have a full fledged temper tantrum, flailing around like a fish out of water screaming all the while. I want to punch and kick holes in the wall.

I want to see him right now. I want to claw his eyes out, kick and punch and push and stab and cut and burn and maim and... I want to hurt him.

For the first time I'm solely angry at him! There is no anger being directed towards to myself, it's all him. 100% percent him... as it should be.

Rape - Part 1

I was 18. He was introduced to me by a friend of mine. He was a friend of a friend. We met in a bar. He kept looking at me and smiling. I asked my friend who he was so she introduced us. I thought he was cute, he had a nice smile.

Things started out OK. He was really clingy and wanted to spend every second with me, and if he wasn't with me he wanted to know where I was. The alarms should have gone off, but honestly, I liked the attention.

I had the house to myself for Valentines Day, my Mom was at our cabin. I invited him over to watch movies and cuddle by the fire in the basement. He came over with a single red rose and a little teddy bear that had a heart on it with I LUV U written on the heart. This kind of creeped me out as this was our fourth date and we'd only known each for a week or two at this point. I pushed that out of my mind. You see, the only attention I got from males growing up was the abuse from my father. I had dated a lot of boys in junior and high school but none lasted for more than a few weeks. I was really enjoying the fact that here was this guy claiming he loved me. I loved that.

We went downstairs and I turned the fireplace on, popped in one of my favorite movies (which I now hate) When a Man Loves a Woman, and we sat on the couch, cuddling. We started kissing and his hand started going up my shirt. - I was terrified of being touched by men. I still am sometimes. I was also a virgin. My father did not penetrate me with his penis, just objects. I was so afraid of sex that I avoided it, hence the reason my high school relationships did not last long. As soon as they mentioned sex I broke up with them. - I asked him to please stop, no under the clothes touching. He said OK. We went back to watching the movie, and we started kissing again. He kept all his touching above clothes and we made out for a while until he tried to go up my shirt again, I asked him to please stop. He did. We went back to watching the movie and he started kissing my neck and groping me, I felt him get an erection. I got a flash of my father and could taste his penis in my mouth, I pushed him away and told him to stop, that we should just watch the movie. He grabbed me and told me it was too late, "it's too late, I can't stop now"

I can still hear those words. I can remember the terror that rushed over me and paralyzed me. I can remember the breath being sucked out of me like I was just kicked in the stomach. I can still see the crazy look in his eyes as his pinned my arms above my head. I can still hear his grunts and his cursing as he struggled to undo my jeans. I can feel that terror as I write this, my body is beginning to shake...

Whine! With a little cheese on the side

I'm going to whine for a few minutes... mainly because I can!

I'm freaking sick... again!

I have Pneumonia this time. Pneumonia and a sinus infection.

Fuckin wonderful!

It feels like there is a 100 pound weight on my chest and my breathing is mildly laboured. We caught it before it really set in and right now it's classified as "walking" pneumonia...

Kinda happy though, usually I get bronchial pneumonia a couple times a year in the winter, but I haven't had it for what would be the second year until now.

Would be a lot worse if I was still smoking!

Over the next couple of days I am going to be writing about the rape, (my rape, the rape - I'm never sure what to call it) as the anniversary is fast approaching... I just wanted to warn the avid readers in case this is going to bother you. I'm not sure how much detail there is going to be, but I'm not editing it and it may take a few days to get it all out... figured I would start tomorrow as I'm off work... I've written it out before, but not in great detail and not detailing how I was feeling, I'm gonna try to incorporate all of that this time...

Hep B

I was up for most of the night researching Hep B.

I talked to a Public Health Nurse this morning, and she was really helpful in answering my questions. The internet and sites I found were all accurate, but talking to a real person about it was that much more comforting.

I'm still worried and stressed, but not as much as I have been.

Most people recover from Hep B within 3 months of contracting the virus without any serious complications and the virus is no longer in their body. Other people recover from the virus but remain a carrier, meaning they remain symptom free, but still have the virus and can unknowingly give it to others.

The vaccine is effective in preventing the disease in 90% of people who get vaccinated. The drawback of the vaccine is that it takes three shots over the course of one year to be effective.

Also, I had to look into the future and put my mind at ease. If we stay together and look at starting a family, the baby would not automatically be infected with Hep B. As long as I wasn't a carrier there are no worries. If I was a carrier, then during delivery there are steps that can be taken to help prevent the transmission as well as drugs to be administered as a precaution.

So all in all, my boyfriend should be OK, I'm praying he will be! I am making an appointment with my doctor to have a blood test done, just to be sure! Then I'll be getting my first round of the vaccine hopefully by weeks end! I have had bad reactions to vaccines in the past, so hopefully this one goes well...

I rather like how I work! I'm a very factually driven person when it comes to this type of thing. I have this need to fill my brain with as much information as possible to calm any emotions that may come up. The more I know, the less scared I am; the less scared I am, the more proactive I will be.

Now if only I can apply that to this healing thing...

News

I got some very bad news on Friday.

My boyfriend has Hepatitis B.

He just found out.

I, of course, could be at risk of having it as well. It's a very slim slim chance, as we always practise safe sex.

I'm also worried about him. He said he was absolutely terrified of telling me and how I would react. He said he was scared I would run and not have anything to do with him anymore. I told him I'd never do that. That I am going to get tested, and if I don't have it (which I shouldn't) then I will get vaccinated.

I guess I'm still in shock because I'm looking at all of this rationally and there hasn't been very much emotion involved.

I have a lot of thinking to do, and I need to be there for him, to support him and get through this together.

::sigh::

7 Days

A small victory, but a victory none the less!

7 Days...

No SI

No smoking

13 Days...

No pot!

Here's to another 7...

I CAN do this!

February

Valentines Day is all I can think about.

My boyfriend is already making plans for that night...

I can't tell him I don't celebrate Valentines Day...

I think this year I will face it head on. I'm not sure if I'm ready to, but I can't let it continue to have a hold on me. What happened that day will forever be a part of me. It has changed me, but it doesn't control me. Yeah... just keep telling yourself that.

It doesn't control me.

Right!

I was standing in line yesterday at the bank, there was a man standing behind me a little too close. I have a 3 foot bubble, MY personal space. He invaded it. He brushed his hand against my ass, I just stood there frozen, my legs felt like jello and my heart started to pound. I think he apologized but I'm not entirely sure. The teller had to call my number 3 times before I heard her and realized I was next.

Who freaks out at a simple accidental touch? Who splits (as I've started to call it) in a public place?

This isn't the first time it has happened either, but it is the event that stands out most in my mind. Probably because it's the most recent.

Ouch I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found,
Yeah I think that I might break
I've lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me
I am small
I am needy
Warm me up
And breathe me