So i didn't have a good therapy session, i'm still triggered by the dog stuff, triggered by the memories of watching them beat people up and struggling like fuck with the singing flashback.

I don't think i will get through to the end of this process, my T tells me i am strong enough and that i am a strong woman, well she's got it wrong. I'm worn out, emotionally and physically. How many more major flashbacks can keep taking over my life and smashing me in to the floor, i wish it was about choice, i wish i could just say i'm not going to feel like this, but its not like that, the flashbacks are not a conscious memory, trying to avoid them is like trying to avoid breathing.

My T Tells me that this whole process averages about 18 months to 2 years, she wanted to assure me that me seeing her in a years time was going to be normal, and that was going to be okay - a year of this, no thankyou.

You know what i hate about therapy, is that once you leave it kind of reiterates that you are truely alone to manage all this shit. Your T sends you back out in the world to struggle on, you've just told her something that you've never spoken about before and half hour later its back to managing on your own for another week. I don't mean that personal against my T, she is great with me, but it terms of no one really caring, we get this false illusion that our T's care for us...they might care for the hour then thats it, someone else comes through the door and then they care for them for the next hour, on it goes throughout the day, our T's probably sit there through our sessions thinking "hurry up" or "what am i going to cook for tea tonight" or "ooh i must text my friend about going out", they leave work at the end of the day, because remember its a job for them, and then they don't give us another thought for 7 days because they will care for another 30 people in 30 separate sessions over the next week, while in between times we are struggling like shit, going over things they have said to us - which they probably just repeat to everybody every session, at times feeling desperate to telephone them but always deciding against it because you are just taking their time up. I know this is how it is and you cant expect a stranger to care for you, but then it gives me a false illusion when she tells me that what i have to say does matter and that i matter..its not care, its a process of getting us to talk and to make us think we are cared for, we are not in their life, we are a job, and lets face it, when you get home from work the last thing you want to do is think about your job.

So you realize you are truely alone to deal with this, it doesn't matter how bad it gets, how more fucked up my week becomes, how badly i manage the flashback, its just me to manage it, i have to rely on myself to decide to stay alive, to decide that its worth living like this because oh it will get better...and i know that that's how life is, we have to take responsibility for ourselves, but sometimes i just wish someone would just take over for a while, someone to just say i will look after you while you cant look after yourself, i'll hold you when you go sleep and i will be there if you wake up with bad nightmares, i will get up with you at 3am when you cant sleep. Sometimnes the burden of keeping myself safe is too heavy, its asking too much of me as well as asking me to manage the flashbacks, the nightmares, the triggers, that emptiness, the shame, the guilt, the embarassment that i let people do this stuff to me and that i did it to them. Something has to give, its like you can only put so many apples on a tray before 1 topples off over the edge, life is like that, there is only so much you can deal with day in day out every fucking long and horrible day, something will fall off the edge.

Something is so flawed in me, sometimes it feels like something is coming to get me, something so big and awful that that there is no way i can fight it off, its too big to manage, its too big to hold, its too disgusting to look at and its too ugly to talk about.

So, this is where i am at - a bit better of a place than i have been the last couple of weeks - something seems to have lifted a little bit, the same feelings are there but they are not in my head 24/7.

I have managed to sleep a little better, still only getting 3 hours but you know, i'm happy with that, 3 hours is better than none at all or not even bothering to try and sleep.

I have taken a couple of days holiday from work to tag on to the end of my sick line - my manager was cool with that, so i have the weekend to keep moving forward.

I showered this morning - no big deal? it is after the last couple of weeks!!

Normally i dont have any problem with showering, i'm not a bath person at all. i shower every morning even on crap days and its always okay - so its been different this time. My T said that its okay, its just a temporary thing while this bit passes and i have to do what ever it is i need to do to make things even fractionally better for me, and if that means not showering then so be it - good job i haven't seen anyone!

I have 3 goals today. 1 was to shower, YAY! 2 is to go to the corner shop and get some groceries in - nothing major but just things like milk - i havent done that yet but its next! And 3 is to get some laundry done.
Might seems like its all normal, and it is, i would normally do these every day and not even know you've done them, but i need to recognise that this has been a bad one for me, and i cant compare anything to anything, all i can do is what i can do right now and make steps forward. A week ago i didn't plan on being here, not that i planned not to but i've had some close calls in the last couple of weeks, so the fact that i am here, and i'm now clean! Is a good start.

1 day at a time, no plans for tomorrow, we will see about tomorrow when it gets here, but for now, i've got today to work on.

I have just typed for half an hour and now i have lost it all. So fucking typical

I don't know why i've started to not feel safe at home, my home as always been a safe place for me, i guess it first started a couple of months back when i was tormented by a particular flashback and i was so tired and and near sleep deprived that i was hearing things, luckily that passed then my house was okay. But about 6 weeks ago i was having one of those rough few days patches and again home didnt feel safe, i did manage to talk to my T about it and she thought it important that we tried to work out why that was because i needed home to feel safe, but we couldn't really get to the bottom of it, i wasn't afraid of someone breaking in, or someone being there.
So it started to feel like that again in the last few days and i hate it, home is my haven, even when i have a really bad day so long as i can get home it doesn't matter, i can continue with my bad day but safely at home. So yesterday just started bad, same stupid dream that i know is just one of those dreams where everything gets mixed up and its not real, it ends with my T telling me to get on this bus with all the abusers in and telling me to be good, i get on the bus and i hear my  laughing, i turn around and she takes this mask off and its not really her, they had tricked me.I havent got a clue what that means and i did write the whole dream out on pandys, i dont think there is any meaning to it, just a combination of how i feel now mixed up with stuff from then.
So when i do sleep, i keep waking up feeling like i have been tricked again, my dreams confirm that i am sick, it even says it on the road signs in the my dream, and i feel my T is tricking me too and it takes me ages to settle into knowing it was just a dream and i dont think she would have sent me off with them and told me to be good for them, thats what Mark used to say when the others were there.
I tried to work a bit from home yesterday but i just wasn't getting anything done so i went for a drive and i dont know, sometimes it feels like its too much, theres too much stuff in my head, i can't separate it, its like it's crushing me, like millions of fragments of different flashbacks just racing round my head and i cant catch them and put them together, i cant hold them long enough to make sense of them and i dont understand it, its not new memories, i remember everything that happened, its more detailed in full flashbacks then it is in my normal memory but i know all of it, so i dont get why i am getting millions of fragmented pieces that just don't fit together being fired at me.
It was like this yesterday and i pulled the car over and all i could do was just hold my head and kind of rock - i know that sounds like i have finally lost it, maybe i have, but it was all i could do, somehow the slow rocking kind of helped. If i could have cried i'm sure i would have done. I wanted to ring my T, i sat with my phone for ages but i just couldn't do it, i didnt know what to say, i cant explain how i am feeling, i didn't know how i wanted her to help me, and i  promised myself i wouldn't do it anyway, the last thing she needs in her already busy day is me on the phone not knowing what i want or need from her.
So i drove to the beach, i sat for ages on top of a big cliff, there is an old lighthouse on top, its not longer in use, i sat right on the edge just looking out to sea, somehow it helps to calm me and knowing i have my own life options helps me feel in control of something. Its stranage sometimes with all the pressures in life, with the responsibilities of my work etc - nothing else mattered when i was just sitting there, i realized that we are all alone in life, as in alone to work it out and it makes me smile that at times when i need my T the most i dont ring her, and she wont know that i had another massive rollercoaster day where the car nearly come off the track, no one knows it, and i know it was another close call, but all i can do today is remember i did all i could do at that time to keep myself safe and sane.
So today, i don't know how i feel, i'm glad now that i didnt ring my T, i don't want her to know how bad some days can get because i cant explain it and there is no reason for it, nothing particularly happens to make me feel like that.
The constant anxiousness feeling is ten fold today, literally like my stomach is just doing somersaults, 15 per second. I know this will pass, it always does, its just waiting for it to pass, i would love nothing more than a coffee, but when its bad like this, what ever goes in comes out faster than it goes in!

FUCK FUCK FUCK

Sorry, just needed to vent that!

What the fuck am i doing - i need to write that here so i can actually see the question written down - i know i'm losing it.

I don't know, everything just feels so wrong. I have stopped logging on to Pandy's, its not that i wanted to stop but i feel a fraud. The people there are just some of the best people ever, they understand me, they support me and even if they cant understand because they haven't had a similar experience they help me sort it in my head and still offer me support - right now they are more important to me than real life friends - but i feel so bad. I would never want any of them to feel that i had tricked them, and i need to protect them from that.
I'm not going over the same shit as i have done the last week, but its all still there, i cant get it to get the fuck out of my head.
As much as its going to nearly kill me (well thats how it feels) i think i'm going to have to write the flasshback down and give it to my T - also there was some other stuff that happened connected to this and although it hasn't been in this flashback i think i still need to get it out - maybe just going to have to get everything out connected to this.
I think i need to do this - but i'm scared of my own reactions too - i know how i feel about it and i am worried the shame will be too much to face my T with - and i promised myself and my pandy buddies that i wouldn't cancel any T sessions. I don't want this to destroy the relationship i have with my T and stop me from moving forward - i know thats all down to me - but i dont trust myself to be strong enough to just face her, arghhh its so fuckin hard.

Maybe i could write it out and ask her to shred it after she reads it - i hate the thought of that being around, even if its safely locked away.

I'm missing my Pandy friends, i do feel a connection with them and i care about them, maybe i'm too attached and maybe thats not good for anyone. I want to tell them i'm sorry if they feel sickened by what i did as a child, i want them to know that its okay for them to feel like that and its okay to be disgusted by me - but they wont tell me that and it confuses me, i don't know if its what they genuinely think or whether they think its what they should say. I have no reason to think they are not being honest with me, but i dont understand why they dont feel like i do about myself.

Something really triggering happened today - and its something i haven't thought of for coming up to 30 years. I was struggling like shit at work and came home to work from home. I was sitting in the garden just trying to get my head together and then from no where there was the sound of a mouth organ, playing a little tune. I was like what the fuck is going on, i thought i had finally lost it and was now hearing things that were not there - but it was. a neighbour was playing a mouth organ. i ran indoors and looked out of my bedroom window to check who this person was - and it must have been a visitor next door. I felt sick, i was trying to hold it in but couldn't any longer and just allowed myself to be sick. One of the people who used to be at Marks house sometimes used to play a mouth organ, he always used to carry it around in his pocket - he wasn't one of the really bad guys, in that he didn't purposly hurt me and i don't think he knew it was hurting, but it still triggered me badly.

I was talking to a work colleague this morning about people dying, and she was saying she see's it as some "almighty power" up above, looking down on all of us millions of people in the world and just getting an eraser and rubbing one of us out - just like that, no choice, no understanding the impact - just rubbing one of us out. Strange how we all think so differently.

But life is strange, regardless of what happens, we carry on, others carry on, the world carries on - its like i remember when someone close to me died and i was walking through the town and people were just going about their normal stuff and i wanted to shout to them, why hasn't the world stopped, this has just happened and people are just shopping for clothes and shoes as if its a normal day - and of course to everyone else it was - but i also learnt that day that you never know what other people are going through in their lives, the person sitting next to you on the bus, standing next to you in the checkout queue - we just don't know - yet the world carries on.

And i was thinking about if i was to die. I was reading something once where it said we should be grateful for the people we have in our lives, never take one day for granted because when they are gone, we will want those days back - it's like the saying its better to have loved and lost than to never have loved at all. I was thinking about those people in my life who would be affected if i was to die. There is my mum, i love her, and as an adult i'm sure she loves me now, but she would get by, she has her partner, i don't see her weekly, on a day to day experience it wouldn't be a massive impact. There is my dad, i love him and i know he loves me, he has a partner now so needs me around less, again, i dont see him weekly and my dad is one of those people who just says "well, you have to get on with it" - so i'm not saying he wont miss me but he would manage. My sister and the boys - this is where it gets harder, how would my sister be? The boys, i think it would take a while to adjust to but they are young and have their whole lives ahead of them, they would move forward with it. I'm stuck with my sister, she already struggles with bi-polar, and she has cancer and is really finding the treatment hard going, oh and i love her so so much.
My friends, yeah they mean a lot to me, and they do - but they all have their own lives, kids and partners and although i have no doubt they will miss me, life will go on for them. My work colleagues - same really, i have no doubt they would miss me, but again, i'm not a part of their daily lives, its not an emotional attachment, they would move on okay. My extended family - we are not that close, so no daily impact for them.
Then i was thinking about my pandy friends - it wouldn't impact on them because i'm not actually part of their lives, they might miss me being around, but it wouldn't impact on them, and actually they wouldn't know, how could they know, they would just think i had decided not be part of the community anymore.
My T - again she wouldn't know, no one knows i go to T, so if i didnt turn up one week my T would probably telephone me, but obviously would get no answer, and after trying a few times i guess she wouldn't keep trying because she wouldn't know i was dead and would think i would think that she was hassling me - and lets say somehow she did know - again no impact, i'm like a work colleague in a sense (she just knows a lot more!).

So. my sister is the wobble.

There is no worry or panic here, just some things i've been thinking about thats all.

i've felt like i've been on the verge of tears today, of course i haven't actually been but i guess it could be classed as close! I was listening to some music and coldplay "fix you" came on and this line "tears stream down your face, when you lose something you cannot replace" - ooh, it hit a nerve....i'm not sure where it hit, but it did hit. Thinking about what i'm really stuck with at the moment and how it made me feel then and feel now - it was like even more of a realisation that  i can't take back what i did - and i know i didnt want it to happen and i get that i had no choice and i know i did it because i had to - but that doesn't stop how i feel about myself - it makes no difference at all, i still did it and that still makes me a sick person, maybe not sick by choice - but i cant erase that memory of actually doing it - i cant say it was someone else because it wasn't, i cant take that feeling away from myself of hating myself so much, the remorse i felt, the disgust and the shame - thats all for me and it has my name on it, and i cant shake it off, its like a ball and chain around me, then i laugh really because of course i cant shake it off, it belongs to me, i own it, i am responsible for it.

My T said to me that i wasn't the sick person, everyone else in the room was a sick person but i wasn't - bit of a coincidence do you not think. My T doesn't get something that is so important, for me personally, my personal values are that it was wrong to do that. If i was to read in a paper about people doing sexual things to animals it would disgust me. For me its just wrong - full stop. So what i did was wrong, and sick.

I feel like i am one of them, i should be hated along with them, and what used to upset me the most as a child, was that the dog didnt know i didnt want to do it, for him it was a human doing that to him, its no different from when i had to do things to that other girl that time - she didn't know i didnt want to do it - and she will remember this other girl doing stuff to her, she will never know what the consequences were for me for not doing exactly like they told me to do, and thats okay, the poor girl was just traumatized. i can see her face, i can see her crying, i can hear her crying, i remember watching them hurting her, i remember Mark walking behind me and pushing me towards her telling me what to do, it went quiet, he pushed me some more, he was getting angrier with me, he was asking me/telling me "are you fucking ignoring me", it was so quiet in that room, it was if i could feel the others wanting me to get on with it because no one wanted Mark to be angry, the girl never took her eyes off me, not once. All i wanted was for her to look the other way, but it was like she was fixed on me, kind of pure disbelief. I wrecked her world that day, she is probably having T now because of me. That could be you, you could be reading this having been abused once by someone the same age as you, you a victim of abuse because of me - as i said - it makes me one of them.
I am hated by every survivor of abuse, including myself.

TRIGGER WARNING

I'm sorry, i've got to "talk" more but if i dont get some of this out i will go slightly mad.

I've put the trigger warning there because i just need to say whats in my head, so don't read on if you think you might be triggered.

I saw my T today and managed to tell her some of the flashback that i have been having, i didnt manage to tell her all of it but did tell her alot of it.

This is a continue from the last post so i'm not going to go into how sick a person i am, i just need to write out what the flashback is and hopefully between the bits i managed to tell my T and what i can write here it will start to fade - it has to soon because i have a headache from hell and i just feel constantly sick.

So, the flashback starts as i walk into the house, the man is standing in the kitchen, i see something on the table and take a quick glance at it, i look up and am cross with myself because he cought me looking at the table, he grins. I see on the table a dog lead. Mark and some others come through to the kitchen and there is some talking, i get taken into the lounge and they follow. I know at this point what coming, i've been in the house for 5 mins and no one has told me to take my clothes off, so its either a game coming up or my worst fear.

Its my worst fear, there in the lounge is the dog. This is the hard thing, i loved that dog, i didn't see him very often but he was a lovely dog, he was an alsation cross and he had an ear that kind of flopped over and he was soft to stroke, he had lovely eyes.

It was "make the dog happy" time. Already the tears were welling up in my eyes, thats nearly rule number 1 broken, i was looking at the dog and trying to telepathically tell him i didnt want to do it and i was sorry. They are waiting, i ask them not to make me do it, rule number 2 broken, i tell them i dont want to do it, rule number 3 broken, i start to cry, rule number 1 broken.

The dog stands up and i have to lay under him and touch his penis through the fur, then after a bit i have to pull the fur back and his penis comes out, his penis become really big like longer than the men, then they make me hold the penis tighter sort of gripping it hard and i have to keep my hand moving and the dog moves a bit and he bites my arm a bit, i dont mind him biting my arm because i dont think he likes it either, after a bit he comes and its not like the men, it more like water. Then they make me put it in my mouth but its hard to do because shaney keeps moving and he keep biting my other arm, i can hear them laughing, i can hear someone saying its fucking sick, i can hear myself saying i'm sorry to shaney, i take it out my mouth and he comes again this time it looks more like the men's stuff, then shaney sort of jumps over me and goes to the man that owns him and he strokes his head telling him he was a good boy. I try to stop crying but i can't, it was so wrong to do that to shaney, i hate myself for doing it and i cant look at shaney. I get up off the floor and i glance at them and  the shame and the embarassment burns through me. i go to leave and they don't stop me, i dont go home, i just go to my den and stay there for hours, the hating of myself continues, i hate myself to the core. I'm sorry shaney.

What a fucking mess, that just about sums up my life.

I've been up and down like a rollercoaster these last few weeks, then i had a few good days, then this flashback.

SICK PERSON = me

I guess i would be living in denial if i thought this wouldn't have come up at some point but i didnt need it to come up yet/now/ever - i guess there isn't a good time to have this shit in your head.

What i did makes me a sick person, there is no question, anybody who did that is a sick sick twisted person and i hated myself so much. I know it wasn't my choice, i didn't choose to do it, i didn't have any option but to do it....but i still did it, and that makes me a sick person.

All my rules - i broke them, the few times this happened i always broke my rules - it was worth any consequence just in case i got let off from doing it, it made me upset, it made me feel sick, it made me hate myself, i used to punch myself in the face while looking in the mirror thats how much i hated myself for doing such a sick thing.

I know i was a child and i was made to do it, but that doesn't change anything. It was that sick even they didnt do it.

So here i am, feeling all of this again, remembering how sick i was and knowing how sick i am and knowing that my inner core is sick, nothing can take that away from me, i did it its as simple as that.

I cant go to see my counsellor, i dont want her to know how sick i am, what a disgusting person i am and have to make her suffer by being in the same room as me. And i couldn't tell her anyway, its just not okay to say some things, i know she tells me i can tell her anything but there is a limit on what someone should have to listen to.

So where do i go from here - fuck knows - walking away feels like a good option, in what ever form that is.

I feel like i have lied to everyone who knows me, i have put out this persona that i am an okay person, when i'm not, i am a sick disgusting person.

i have to put this somewhere and this is the safest place - so i'm sorry if anyone ever reads this.

I had to do things to a dog

Its been a rough couple of weeks, got triggered pretty badly by something and didn't manage it very well at all, my counselling appointment got cancelled and with regards to work i've been dropping the ball all over the place - and i need to step up to the mark or take some time off because its not okay.

I got triggered by something this morning - and i'm getting sick of new triggers now - its like i dont feel safe reading anything because new triggers are coming up and its fucking with my head.

Someone posted a link on Pandy's about a teddy bear website for survivors - where a teddy is assigned to you and you give the teddy a name, say what ages your were assaulted and a sort of positive message about reclaiming yourself. In the way that it was the teddy who was assaulted.

This is where my thoughts can get irrational -and i know its OTT - but it is what it is.

I looked at the teddies and it was just so wrong - by naming a teddy and saying what happened to the teddy - it was like the Teddy was hurt.
I know this is irrational but i've always been like this, i cant stand the thought of a teddy being hurt yet i cant acknowledge that i was hurt at all or feel anything for the child i was - but i could cry a thousand tears for that teddy.
I am the same with animals - i feel so much compassion for animals that it can be seen as irrational - this mainly only happens if an animal is injured or in danger or i feel sorry for it, but it can revoke such a strong reaction from me it scares me.

Horses are a massive trigger - but have no idea why - i dont even like seeing them, i feel they are looking at me, yet i feel so protective over them. About 6 months ago i was driving with a friend and a horse had escaped from a field and it was trotting freely down a country lane - i became hysterical - we stopped the car and my friend got out and guided it back through a gate and shut the gate - no big deal? I was hysterical for days, a car may of hit the horse, it could have got hurt, it was lost, it was frightened.

I have always said if i was forced to shoot and kill a human or an animal - i would kill the human?

I know - fucking nut case!

So this teddy thing - reminded me of a sort of doll that i had as a kid - it wasn't a doll or a teddy - it was a sort of beany baby thing but with a real looking face. I loved her, i cant explain how much i loved her, it was obsessional love, and i used to think she had feelings and she could feel pain.

according to my sister, i wouldn't go anywhere with out the beanie baby, she had to be with me. I remember screaming uncontrollably because my mum had put her through the washing machine and i could see her going round and round - she was hurting, she was drowning, then she got pegged on the washing line by a sort of material point she had on her head - i couldn't bear that either, she was hurting, she was just dangling.

As things got worse at home, my mum used to use this beanie baby as a way to punish me, she would hide it, or put it out of reach. My sister never understood my attachment to it, and she used to upset me on purpose by telling me she had thrown the beanie baby against the wall, or hit it, or stood on her face - i used to get distraught - i used to cuddle it and tell her how sorry i was that i left her. I used to be able to change its clothes - i didnt do this very often - but sometimes i would come home and someone would have taken its clothes off and it would be laying on my bed "naked" with its clothes next to it - again i would become distraught.  Sometimes my sister would tell me that it was calling for me while was out - i knew it couldnt do this, but it still used to upset me.

I remember packing the beanie baby away in a box and hiding her in the draw under my bed - i couldnt protect her anymore, i couldn't keep her safe, and the only way to keep her safe was by shutting her away and pretending she meant nothing to me - then she would be left alone - and she was - and whenever she was mentioned i just used to say i didnt care about her anymore.

Looking back, i think it was just my sister being a little shit, it was fun to her - i honestly don't think she meant any serious harm by it. I have asked her as adults why she did this - and she just laughs and says it was funny - she used to think my reaction was funny when she told me she had hurt it - and she tells me sometimes she really did hurt it.

I don't get how i can feel so sad - now - as an adult - remembering how much i loved and wanted to protect that beanie baby, and i could, for the first itme in years and years just sit and cry. I wont because its not helpful to me, but for the first time in years it feels like i could access those tears so easily.

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So, this isn't an update, this is just something i need to put down.

While on Pandy's today, there was a post about shame - and shame is something massive for me, so i was instantly drawn to the post.

I read the post, and my immediate thoughts were i wanted to get in my car and drive to wherever this person lived, maybe 12000 miles away but that was okay, and just hug her. The abuse she suffered was horrific, humilating and just so awful that no one should ever have to have those experiences. I walked around the house and garden for the next hour, just lost in my own head.

This woman had suffered many of the same humiliating things that i had suffered, her thoughts were so similar to mine, the shame of thinking people will be visualizing what you are telling them, its was so fucking close to home i was truely floored.

I know in terms of counseling i am still newish to it, 3 months in to be accurate, but i already know that there are so many things i cant talk about because of the shame, because i dont want her to visualize what i am telling her, i dont want someone else to have them thoughts in their head - even if it is their job - they are caring humans after all. But maybe i just need to sit with this, because when i read this womans post, i didn't visualize what happened to her - what i read and thought was there are people on this earth who are so so twisted and fucked up that they don't deserve the even share the same breathing space as the rest of us. Maybe my counselor may stand to hear some of the stuff - just needing to sit on that i think.

But i get that feeling of shame, and reading it, this person should hold no shame at all, she didnt choose what these people done to her, she didnt choose to be sexually abused. Yet, my shame is just as big, maybe bigger because i havent really worked on much yet, i even struggel to accept i was abused - in terminolgy sense - it was just stuff that happened to me.

Just looking at only one of the three bigger incidents i have told my counselor about, i remember the sahme and humilation like it was yesterday. Laying blindfolded, not know who was there, naked, hands everywhere, sex going on in every orifice, the humilation of the next people coming in and calling the main abuser in to clean me up, i had been bad and was bleeding again. Laying there not knowing who is spreading your legs that wide, whose penis you are holding, the shame is massive, the shame of remembering that woman sitting on my face. I just feel buried in shame. So i get where this woman was coming from, how can i tell my couselor stuff that happened that was more shameful, more embarassing, more humiliating?

My counselor sits there with a really caring look on her face, telling me i can tell her anything, its okay to tell me anything you want....and i look and think, i know she genuinely means that, but actually it isn't okay.

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So, i've been putting this off writing this here, but its still spinning round in my head so i'm just going to put it down - this is after all what i intended using this space for.

A flashback from no-where, no mini one pre the biggie, just wham. I did mange to talk some of this through with my counselor (LA) this week.

The first part is my memories of the event, nothing censored - just how it was - the second part is some of the discussion that LA and I had around the event.

The abuse had been going on for about a year, so i was 10.
I went to the house as pre-arranged on the last visit - all three of them were there, and i dont know, there was a strange atmosphere, just something different. I wasn't really sure what to do as they didn't initiate anything - after a bit i decided to take my chances and leave (i got away with this sometimes if they were too pissed or stoned) - not today, he shouted at me to get in the room and dont fuck him about today.

So i overheard their conversations, and the one line that sticks in my mind was the doctor was coming to get rid of her baby - time passes and i am feeling really nervous, not sure what is going on, i've been shut in the room and then the secret doorbell rings. it must be the doctor.

I heard them all go upstairs, i sat in the room getting more and more anxious - after what seemed ages, the doctor went. Botht he men came into the room and he was carrying a balnket and he put it in my arms and said i needed to look after the baby - i sat there, with this blanket in my arms with a baby inside - i couldnt see the baby but i could feel it was heavier than just a blanket. I just remember sitting bolt upright. He told me i needed to feed the baby otherwise it would die, i just carried on sitting there holding it not knowing what to do. The other man took the baby off me and put it on the couch. He said again i needed to feed the baby, i kind of sort of knew that baby's sucked their mums boobs and they had milk in them, but was at a loss at what i was supposed to do. He came over and said lets see if you have any milk for the baby, he took my t shirt off and sucked my nipples for only a second or so and said i didnt have any milk for the baby - i remember being scared that i did have milk for the baby, i had no boobs at all at this age, completely flat chested. The thought of having milk coming out of my nipples scared the life out of me.

So, i was going to have to make some milk, i remember so clearly that they sort of said this in a helping me way and i needed to make the milk because the baby would die with out it. I kept looking over to the baby wrapped in the blanket on the couch. He tells me that there is only one way to make milk when you havent got any, that is i have to be good and swallow the stuff that comes out of the end of his willy - that helps make the milk, the more you swallow the more milk you make, if i was sick it wouldnt work and i wouldnt be able to make any milk for the baby.

So two rounds of oral sex followed with the constant reminder to swallow - i was gagging and retching but it was for the baby.
Straight after he sucked my nipples again but still no milk, i remember being somewhat confused that i had swallowed this stuff and it wasnt enough to make any milk and also scared about how many times i was going to have to swallow to make some milk.

I was sent home, maybe tomorrow if we do it again it might be enough for the baby.

I went home, kept thinking about the baby, i knew it would be hungry, i kept squeezing my nipples to see if any milk would come out, i remember thinking if some milk did come out in the night i would hqave to sneak out of home and go to his house to feed the baby.

No milk produced by morning, i went to school, i kept checking, still no milk. i got home from school and the day before they told me they wanted me there after tea. I remember not wanting to go, but also wanting to go because if i was good and did some more swallowing i could feed the baby - i went round early, the two men were sitting in the kitchen smoking and he smiled and said i was early, i said i come to see the baby - he laughed and said the baby was dead because i didnt feed it. I went in the room to look for it, it wasnt there, he said it died that morning and they buried it in a box in the garden because it was small, i remembered thinking it was small because i couldn't see it in the blanket, and remembered thinking of my dad burying a rabbit in our garden in a box and the baby was smaller than that.

I remember crying, i had killed the baby, i didnt feed it, it was my fault, the poor baby. He told me i didnt swallow enough stuff and maybe if i had been good and swallowed all the times before i might have had enough to feed the baby. The guilt was immense, i remembered all the times when i was sick, or when i spat it out, why didnt he tell me then it was for a baby, i would have tried to be good.

She was upstairs and she called me up, i was crying and she was lying in bed, she said did i know about the baby, i said i did, she confirmed to me all that i already knew and felt, she wouldnt forgive me for not feeding the baby and now its dead.

I cried and cried, i remember the funny feeling in my tummy, knowing what i had done. He told me i had better go - so i did, i didnt know what to do with myself, i had to stop crying at some point and i did, and i knew that the baby died, i had killed it, and i didnt mean to, but i was so sorry in my heart.

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So the next 25 years pass, and the minute details of the events fade, i dont process it, there is nothing to process, i knew i had killed a baby and that guilt and shame sat in the back of my locked away head for all these years, never spoken about, because why would i wanrt someone to know what i had done, knowing it was enough, i never thought about the actual incident, it was just the knowing that the baby had died.

So the flashback happened, full, vivd, near enough in 3D, it shook me to the core, how could this memory that i had buried so well be coming back to life, i knew i killed the baby, i didnt need to see a replay. It would have been somethin i never would have talked about, i dont think i would have told LA about it, it is just one of those situations that are buried deep, i know about it, but no need to air it.

2 days of this flashback, the guilt is mounting more and more - i had a counseling session, what do i do, do i cancel, do i try and just push it down as much as i can for the hour or do i tell her?
Two days of no sleep kind of gave it away i guess.
So we went through it - in more detail than i will write here, but this is the bones of it.

Did i actually see a baby? No
Did i feel the baby move, cry, wriggle? No
As an adult - does swallowing semen produce milk? No
Did the woman look preganant, did she have a bump? No
You remember them saying the doctor came to get rid of the baby - not deliver the baby.
Did they show you where the baby was buried? No
Why couldnt the woman feed the baby?
Couldnt they have gone to the shops to buy formula milk?

Okay......As adults reading this, you will have known there was no baby.

For 25 years i have believed there was baby, i killed it - fact.

LA is telling me that they lied to me, they did it to scare me, they did it so i would do what they wanted me to do, they did it so i would keep going back, there was no baby, it was all part of the manipulation, part of the grooming, part of anything to keep me there.

Now? I'm still processing it, i can logically see what LA is saying, and she is right - i think. How do you go from knowing something so true in your heart for 25 years to then discover it isn't true, there are other explanations - none of which are easy to accept.
It feels easier to know i killed the baby, i lived with that for 25 years and have accepted it.

I struggle with how did i not put this all together myself and come to this conclusion - after all, i do know that semen doesnt make milk! The answer is simple i know, but hard - it happeded to me as a child, it is what i believed as a child, i have never processed it as an adult, never put an adults perspective on to it, i've just always known the baby died and lock that memory away.

I keep having mini flashbacks of other times they reminded me of the baby, and then thinking LA has got it wrong, but i keep going back to the facts, and deep down its obvious - but its so hard to get my head around, i feel confused, i feel stupid, i dont feel free of the guilt? Shouldn't i feel elated?

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So, i'm feeling a bit trapped by something, as to whether at some point i will be able to inform LA of an incident that occured while i was being abused. The difficulty is because i think it is a reportable offence, even though it happened 25 years ago. I'm kind of stuck as to where to go with it, do i just keep everything crossed that it doesn't come up in a flashback again, or.....what else.....I know the concern is about being reported, as in me, because it wasn't me who committed the act, but if it was still reportable to the police i just cant do it, full stop.I need to let this go, as i'm getting hung up on it, and i need not because its not an issue at present, i guess i was trying to get some answers before it does become an issue but LA can't give me definate answers because she doesn't know what it is! And, thats stupid, because it feels like i am playing games, i am not, i am the last person to play games, i'm just straight on the nose. Grrrrrrrr

I am managing so crap at work its a wonder i havent got the sack these last couple of weeks, i mean, there are only so many days you can keep taking off before it becomes an issue - and i'm even struggling to keep up with what i was doing before, which was on good days working 24/7 to keep on top of things because so much happens every day and it only takes a couple of days of being in the soup and i'm like hours and hours behind, but these last few weeks, even on good days, i havent got the energy or motivation to spend hour after hour keeping on top of things, and believe me, i'm drowning.

And, i felt really guilty this past weekend, like massively so - a work colleague rang me for some work advice, no issue with that at all, we talked through the issue, batted about some options, looked at it from different angles and came up with a solution, a no brainer really, until she rang me out of work a day later, just having a general chat about work and responsibility and accountability, and she said "how does it feel to be living someone else's dream" - i was like what??? We then went off on to the conversation of careers etc and cut a long story short, my life (as this person views it) is her dream.

Her take on me: You have everything, your own house, a car, an excellent career with never ending prospects, you are respected, valued, listened to, you are fun, you listen to people, you are fucking batty and you have compassion, you speak and everyone listens and you treat everyone with respect.

Umm.....

Somehow i think she had her rose tainted spectacles on here, but it just floored me that someone thought that of me, and also made me smile of how good a job i do of keeping my its all okay front on, then i felt guilt, that i supposedly have what someone else wants, and i told her she could have the job i have if she wanted it, yes its hard work but she is capable of it, she smiled and said, all the training in the world cant teach you what you have, bemused with this i asked her what "this" was, and she said, you cant name it, you just have it, it radiates from you. I was floored, waht a nice thing to hear from someone, and it was said in an absolute genuine way, of course she also called me all the names that i'm used to like crazy lady, batty fucker, a shot away etc!!

Ummm.....

I wanted to say to her for the first time ever, but with this image you have of me, comes flashbacks, triggers, PTSD, nightmares, sleepless nights, fear, guilt, shame, regret, a feeling of being completely lost and alone. Have one side of me, have the other, of course i didnt, but it amazes me how well sometimes i mange to keep all of this in check.

I'm still struggling with some stuff i wrote in my last post, but then i guess it wont just be okay over night just because i managed to write it down. I didn't talk to LA about it, no doubt i will at some point, but i didnt feel ready to just yet, and thats just going to have to be okay.

I got triggered big time at the weekend, strange how things trigger you that never have before, i was in a big warehouse shop, and i came to the end of an aisle and there were kids dressing up costumes, loads of them hanging up, it just stopped me in my tracks, mini flashbacks all over the place and sweating like i had run a marathon. Weird how this memory has just say in the back of my head all of these years, i knew it happened, but with kind of no feeling attached to it, then all of sudden there i am, 9 years old having to wear fairy or angel or nurse costumes - picked by her - and paraded around the group of people at one of their parties, i hated it, hated it so fucking much, and they seemed to prefer the nurse's outfit, with the stesthescope, equally hated was the fact that after each person had finished with me, i used to have to put the fucking costome back on again for the next one. I don't know, its been sitting there whirling round in my head and i'm just not sure how to process it.

Its starting to feel like i am not safe going anywhere because of these unexpected triggers and its one more thing to fuck with my head.

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Its the middle of the night here, and again its just me and the moon. I don't know what the answer is to how i am feeling, i don't know if i can describe how i a feeling, and there is no justification for how i am feeling.

I feel sad, i feel empty and i feel so, so alone.

There is nothing particular that is making me feel like this, no torture flashback, no nightmares tonight, just that stomach churning anxiousness that once it wakes you up you have to bolt out of bed straight away.

I don't know what i am anxious about, nothing has changed. It's Sunday tomorrow, and there are things going on with friends if i want to be involved, or i can spend some time alone, there is no presssure, so no anxious feelings about that.

I have had a massively challenging and busy week at work, but i got through it okay, done what i needed to do, i have another really busy week this week, but thats all okay.

I have some absolute fantastic friends, they don't know about the abuse stuff, and i dont want to tell them, its not that i dont trust them, but i dont want this massive grey cloud in our relationships, i know it wont help me, i will just feel pressured by myself. I have a sister whom i love dearly, two fantastic nephews, my parents, as dsyfucnctional as our family is, i love them, they are just people who made some mistakes when bringing up kids, my mother didnt and still hasnt acknowledged her mental health issues and my dad, well, you have to love him, everything is so black and white in his world, and frustrating as it is sometimes (alot of the times) he makes me laugh. There may have been some physical and emotional abuse when i was growing up, but you know, i'm not saying it was okay, but they did the best they could at the time.

As far as the abuse goes, maybe my feelings right now are because of a very slight shift in thoughts...I can acknowledge why the abuse continued and i know that at the time i didnt feel i had a choice.

The threats that were used to me were real, and i guess in any childs head threats that feel real and and you can see taking form and absolutey life threatening.

I was reading a few pages from a survivors book and one of the most common threats made to children was that if they told someone they wouldn't believe them. I see myself lucky on this account, right from when the abuse started right up to my grand old age of 36 this has never been a concern for me, and i do think i am lucky because of that, it must be soul destroying to have the courage as a child or adult to disclose the abuse to someone and not be believed.

There was never a question of whether i would be believed, i guess i didnt really know that there was that option, it was never used as a threat against me.

For me it was the fear of someone finding out. Somehow, and i cant really recall how/when/what was said by me, but my main abusers picked up or knew about how dysfunctional life was at home for me, they knew how my relationship was with with my parents - mainly my mum - and they focussed on this - i guess looking back it would easy for adults to pick up on this, but at the time i thought i was so streetwise and strong.

The first threats, on the first couple of occasions of abuse were that they would tell my mum what i had been doing - let me just say that again - that-they-would-tell-my-mum-what-i-had-been-doing. That was so real for me and that was enough to keep my silence. The thought of the punishments that would lay ahead of me if my mum would have known i had been "doing stuff" was unbearable. It never crossed my mind that these people were adults and what they were doing to me was wrong, illegal etc. I can recall quite clearly the main abuser telling me with a smurk on his face, imagine what your mum would say if i told her you had been to my house and you had been touching my cock.

Breathe......

That fear was massive, i imagined him telling her, i imagined her going so fucking crazy and me getting a beating i would have never recovered from. The punishments i had for things far far less were enough for me to know this was so real. You dare not tell my mum if you were injured, injury meant you were doing something wrong. Injury meant more trouble at home, more hassle, more belts, more not being spoken to, more ridicule, more arguments, more put downs - so you didnt tell. I recall being 5 years old and i broke my arm (it was a a bad break and actually crushed all of my elbow, requiring a specialist surgeon who wasnt available and a wait of 12 hours with no pain killers because they couldnt give me the pain killers if i was going under the anasethetic), i recall me and my sister sitting on the corner of the road not knowing what to do, we knew how much trouble lay ahead of us, i remember my sister who is two years older than me being cross with me for putting us in that situation, but we didn't know what to do, how could we run home and tell mum i was injured? We sat fro what seemed like hours - i have no idea how long we actually did sit there for but it my memory it was a long time. We eventually decided that we couldn't tell mum, and we went to a neighbours house - who in turn took us to mum. I dont think i can share the rest of this story right now, but it may put into context why i feared my abuser telling my mum i had touched his cock.

It was a no brainer really, they had my silence, they knew my fears and as things progressed they never needed to use that threat anynmore, the fear of him telling my mum i had touched his cock was enough to silence me, so the fear of him telling her i had it in my mouth didnt even need to be spoken about - and on it went.

I covered up so much so my parents didnt find out. Take out the fact that it was so dsyfunctional at home, but because of that, i went to extra lenghts to ensure she didnt find out - and others helped me...or thats what i thought....and it was a genuine thought....some secondary abusers who were also involved through the main three...helped me. There was this woman who was at one of the houses i had to visit...its too long to go into and it fucks my head so i wont right now, but she used to buy me new pants - so when my pants were bloodstained  - my mum would never know because this woman gave me new ones and she threw away my old ones, she even used to buy exactly the same ones - to help protect me........It was so fucked up, but in my 9 year old mind this woman was like an angel been sent to me. She used to touch me and do stuff to me, but she didn't actually hurt me, she used to say really softly "this isn't hurting you is it my dear" - i couldnt say it was, because it wasn't. She would finish whatever she was doing to me, she would always want to dress me afterwards, then she would check if i needed any new pants, did i have enough cream left to put on my bum if it was sore, did i need any medicine...

So my mum, even it had not been so dsyfunctional at home would not have noticed much.

My fears as well were around protecting my sister, every now and again he used to say he wanted me to bring my sister to his house - if i achieved nothing else throughout these three years, i managed to keep her safe and away from him.

My other fears were of being caught by my parents going to these other houses i had to go to. Some of them were right across the other side of town and i wan't allowed to go that far, i got to know every alleyway and short cut across the town to these other houses through fear of my parents seeing me. I actually dont know what i was more anxious about, the fear of being caught by my mum in a part of town i wasn't allowed in, or fear of what abuse lay ahead of me in these houses.

Fear played a big part of my life as a child, and i'm not sure how i managed it so well, but when talking to my counselor about stuff, fear is the only emotion i can get to, i dont know how else i felt, i just remember the fear.

I'm thinking now that i have managed to get this out here that maybe i can talk to my counselor about all of this, i don't know. I really struggle to understand it, i dont know if i understand it enough to talk about it, or maybe thats why i need to talk to her about this, so i can understand it a bit more, i dont know if there is anything to talk about with this, it just was.

Well, it's nearly 6am here and i'm going to attempt to get some sleep, hopefully my head will stop spinning with this stuff.

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Everything just feels pointless, life.... I cant be the only one who feels like this, i get these days from time to time and i learn over the "good years" to just acknowledge them and they will pass by - and they did.

So whats so different now? Oh, it feels so dangerous now, it goes beyond feeling that life is pointless...it goes beyond just waiting for it to pass.

I'm not sure i can explain the feeling, its like a nothingness, there is no point in life, in living. This is how my thoughts go, what's the point in living, having friends, a job, good times, its all going to end anyway, what is our actual purpose of being here.

You know, i hate it, i hate feeling like this. This isn't me. I normally love life, even the crappy rainy days, it means i can read or potter around the house.

I know LA (counselor) tells me that as i start to disclose stuff to her it may be a rough time-  trust me she is spot on with that, but how close a call is it?

The flashbacks, the triggers, the body memories the nightmares on top of a life feels pointless day : yay bring it on, lets see if i can get through this one.

Why is it that i am so crap at asking for that extra support. I know why, i dont want to appear needy, to be seen as weak and not managing, the shame can be crippling and i don't know what to say is the matter, i cant put it in to words. And i feel like a burden, i imagine LA getting a phone call or message to ring me thinking "whats up now". I also know she might not be thinking that, i have only rang her once at the office when i was having a particularly bad day and she was fine with me, but then she may appear fine with me but still be thinking inside get a fucking grip of yourself. I feel she is thinking millions of others have been through what you have been through, no big deal, you should be able to deal with it.

Its this thing of feeling safe and that i can trust her on session days and a few days after, but as time wears on i think i cant, i think she is thinking these things and i get more and more sure that i am making a wrong judgement call.

I agreed that i would write down these stupid fucking mini flashbacks, so i have a piece of paper and as the week goes on i just write down one liners of each mini flashback that comes. I went to write down the two i had today while at work and i was thinking i cant, i cant put these down, they are too self explanatory, she cant know this, i dont want her to know this. How fucking off the scale is that???? Why the fuck am i going to counseling if i dont want her to know this stuff, and i know, i know, i know that to "heal" (i hate that word now) i need to talk about this shit, and she needs to know it to support me with it. I don't get it, i dont get me.

And i still dont get why i am not managing to deal with it as i have done for the last 25 years. What part in me weakened to the point where i couldn't just box it neatly away, why after all this time did i fail. I feel like i have failed, i feel like iam weak, i feel that i should just be able to say yeah that happened, i feel like i am taking LA's time up when there are other people who need her support, i'm taking up valuable resourses that other people are trying to access and should be able to deal with it. What is the big fucking deal with it.

There is this other thing as well, which is something that happened. It fucks my head, its as simple as that. And i just cant go there with it, LA knows that i cant, i told her, in my stupid triggery state last week i told her i cant tell her anything that happened down the cellar, not with me and them, not with me and the other men and not with the other man. What a fucking stupid thing to say, now she knows there is something there - i am so fucking ass hopping mad at myself. When she tells me that things were not my fault i want to fucking scream at her and tell her she is so so wrong, of course its my fault, it happened because of me, i know that, he told me that.

The thing is, i can live with all of that, i can live with never talking about and lead a preety okay life, but i cant with the flashbacks, if the flashbacks hadnt started i would have been okay, i look back on that week, just an ordinary busy week, and there was no reason for me to fall apart. I have this vision that some eternal power looked at me one day and thought, who the fuck do you think you are enjoying life, laughing, socializing and thinking you are okay, soon wipe that fucking smile off your face, pressed a button and transported me into flashback city, the land of no return.

Okay, i know what these feelings are about, i have them often, even had them in the "good years" but it doesn't make it any easier.

Being ill always triggers me big time.

Okay, just going to be completely open and just say it.....

So i'm ill, got a chest infection, which started off with the typical flu like symptoms of aches, genrally yucky, tightness of the chest and when breathing. Now, just got the chest infection, so alot of coughing etc.

The triggers. when i was ill as a kid, my parents never really took it on board, wasn't allowed to stay in bed ill - so still had to carry on as normal - this meant going out and staying out, and i can remember quite clearly being and feeling so ill, with no where to go, often just curling up a corner in a quiet area of a pocket park just keeping warm. Also, remember being really ill when i was being abused, and i ended up crying (i never cried or very very rarely) - which they thought was a little win for them. Also, with a chest infection, i'm doing alot of bringing phlegm up which just triggers into oral sex memories.

So, thats my triggers - the other thing is when i'm ill, i'm just no good at self care, I have never gone to bed in the day time no matter how ill i am, i literally just carry on as normal. i tried really hard this time to just take it a bit easier, but ended up getting triggered because i got up early yesterday morning, felt really rough and decided i would go back to bed - around 8am - i must have fallen asleep but woke to some twat hammering on my front door (big trigger), i then felt trapped in my bedroom and felt so vulnerable - i know rationally this is silly, my house is safe, its my house, no one else has a key and who gives a flying fuck who hammers on the front door - but it doesnt work thinking rationally when i'm triggered.

I am getting better at GP appointments - although i havent been and will ride the chest infection out, i have learnt over the years the difference between a chest infection and pleurisy and have promised myself faithfully i will go to my GP if i fear pleurisy (having had it 5 times already and hospitalized twice for it)

Other news: I have my awards ceremony next week- still no purchase of anything decent to wear!
Still no new car, haven't quite found the right one, so still on the look out.
i was having a good day and complained (very nicely) to my neighbours: the house is a rental next door and no smoking indoors - but they hang out of the front bedroom window smoking and flick thier fag butts out - most of which end up on my front lawn - i dont know if that sounds petty or not-  but either way it pisses me off when there are 50+ fag butts on my front lawn - so i told them nicely that i didnt appreciate it and made some ashtray suggestions - he said one line to me "are you the fucking cigarette police?" and shut the front door on me. Raging i was, it takes alot to wind me up, but trust me i was pacing with rage! Oh revenge will will be sweet, trust me. The annoying thing here is i just about get on with everyone, i have never really not got on with any neighbours, even if its only a quick hello, so it kinds of diminishes my faith in human nature when people can be so thoughtless and non communtiy spirited.


This weeks mini flashbacks:

2 second clip of walking down the cellar steps
2 second sound of the secret door bell ringing
A still image of the table in the cellar
A still image of his tatoo

A longer clip of my pants being on the lampshade and being lifted up to get them
A full blown flashback playing on repeat of a blindfold incident -that is fucking with my head

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Yep, here again.

So its Tuesday morning, i should be at work, i should be delivering some training, there are 20 people on their way to a training course that i should be delivering - i'm sory they have wasted their journey.

I just can't do it today, i can't face the world, i can't put on my its all okay face and pretend its all okay, it isn't okay, i don't know what the fuck is wrong with me. I have to get a grip, i have to be stronger, i have to manage better.

Reality here, its been 24 years since the abuse stopped, 24 years to get used to living with the memories, the feelings, the things that were done to me, the things i was made to do. 24 fucking years later and here i am in a complete mess failing. failing at my job, failing at life, failing at just living. But why.

I dont understand why, why cant i just carry on and be the person i was 6 months ago. Nothing has changed.

Why has my head decided it cant cope with it anymore, why has it decided that its going to replay situations in my head, why has it decided to fuck with me. Why now, when things were going so well in my life, i had nearly everything i wanted in life. I had the most important thing i could ever want, i had peace, i was happy with just being me, i watched the sunrise and the sunset, i didn't need anything else, just to be at peace with me.

It feels like i have lost it all, its been snatched away from me, i dont know who by, it wasn't theirs to take, it was my life, i built it up to how i wanted it, i valued things in my life that maybe no one would, but i did, i did the things that made me happy, i have some truely awesome friends who i would never want to lose from my life.

But here i am, feeling like i'm a different person, i dont even resemble the person i was 6 months ago, i look the same in the mirror for sure, but its not me. I'm empty, i see past my eyes and i dont see anything.

Nothing has changed, there is no reason for me to feel like this, i'm tired of fighting the flashbacks, i'm tired of kicking my own ass everyday to be okay, i'm tired of holding it all in, i'm tired of watching the world going by feeling that i am not a part of it, i feel an outsider looking in.

the thing is, i don't know how to fix it, i have always fixed myself before, any issue, no matter how big or small, just flop it on the table and lets unpack it, see what we can do with it, see what needs to worked on, what can we let go of, what can we carry forward. life was so simple in my world.

But i don't know how to fix this. It seems unfixable, its seems like its not possible to fix. I wish so, so much that there was an instruction book, a series of steps to take, like fixing an engine on a car, following flat pack furniture instructions, i would follow it all, i wouldn't miss out any steps, i would put the extra glue on the dowel instead of just thinking it will be ok without.

I feel like i have done something wrong, feels like i am being punished for something, punished for living the life i wanted to live, punished for taking a short cut to healing and thinking it wouldn't catch up with me. Feels like i have been running from a crime and never thought i would be caught, letting your guard down, letting people in, until that knocks comes at the door. But the knock never came at the door, my head just crumbled one normal busy week, no warning, no signs, no nothing, just an 18 wheeler truck hitting me head on with abuse written all over it, i tried to dodge it, believe me i did, i thought maybe i was having some massive infection which was leading me to think these strange thoughts, the nightmares must be due to a high temperature. I fought it, i avoided it, i laughed at it, i wouldn't touch it, it didn't belong to me, i wasn't taking responsibility for it, its not mine.

But it was mine, delivered straight to my head, with my name on it, dumped on to me with no instructions or explanations.

It's fucked my head, its fucked my world, but i still look like me, people still want the same of me, still expect the same me to do the same things, of course they do, they don't know any different, and i cant tell them any different.

But i'm not me anymore, there is poison running through my veins, poison in my thoughts, poison in my dreams. I am polluted.

I don't know what to do with this new person, i don't know how to fix it, i haven't got a clue where to start, i dont know what makes her tick, what calms her, what makes her feel more comfortable, what makes her feel safe, what she needs and what she doesn't need. What she wants from me, i don't know. I don't want her, she doesn't belong here.

.
Just needing to put down some stuff.

This new crappy flashback, its ok, it hasn't re surfaced, so far so good on that one.

I've been thinking, as impossibe as it seems right now, to try and tell my counselor (LA) some of this stuff that i know has the capacity to tip me over the edge before they come in flashback form? If i did, then maybe the flashback would not seem as strong or as powerful...maybe kind of beat it before it beats me.
I don't know, just a thought - thing is being able to do it. By choice, i would just sit down all reel off the fucking lot, i dont want to keep this in me, i dont want to choose what to share and not what to share, its kind of like for this to work i just need to leave nothing unsaid, otherwise it will come back and bite me on the ass. Obviously i am not going to be able to share every single situation because it went on for so long and there were just "normal" times of just normal abuse - i'm not minimizing stuff here, but "normal" would have been them three people there or a combination of them three just doing normal sex stuff to me - and that would be like asking me to rememeber what i had for tea every night.
But, i want to just say everything i can remember, i dont feel like there is stuff thats just personal to me and i dont want to say it - dont misread that as its easy to say - thats not what i'm saying at all, there are somethings that feel like will kill me if i speak of them - but i also know its these things i have to say.

If i know anything about me and about this process - and we are all different and process and heal differently, it is that i do need to say what happened, i wish that i didn't - any that may change, but right now i know the only thing that offers any release is by saying it, its kind of like a tornado that once i talk about a bit, it loses its a power a bit, and hopefully, when i talk more about other stuff it will lose its power some more, until it doesn't have any. I will still be me, still with the memories, but in control of the memories and feelings. I don't know, thats how i like to think it will work.

So, i'm going to be braver if and when i can and use this journal for its origional purpose of also getting some of the flashbacks out, even if i cant get any further than just saying what i see. Hopefully, this will also make it easier in session to talk about them or at least say what they are even if i cant go there with them, and i have to say, when i was in a bad spot the other week, i rang LA up and we couldn't meet, but she did spend some time on the phone with me, and there were a few issues, but one massive flashback was the main issue, but i was also having mini ones which i would normally be able to hold okay, but i couldn't that day, so although i couldn't talk about the main flashback i did manage to say what the mini ones were, and it helped - it just kind of shut them up.

So, i'm going to post as normal to air whats going on and at the end of each post if i have had mini flashbacks i'm just going to put them down. As stupid as they may seem, or even if they make no sense because i cant write what they relate to, i'm still going to put them down.

Its a bank holiday here today, and pre me crashing, i loved bank holidays - doesn't matter if i don't believe the origon of them, just a bit of time off to do me things. Now, its seems pointless, because i dont have the energy or fire to do me things. But today, i have to tidy the house up, i've slipped big time again on keeping stuff in some kind of order and its kind of looking like my home has been ransacked, so regardless of what i feel or want to do, its going to be music on, and get tidying.

Already nervous about writing my first flashback posting, but i'm going to stick to it....Breathe......

Flashbacks

• Still image of her hands with big rings on her fingers
• Still image of seing my bike rusting in his garden
• 3 sec clip of him on top of me watching his crucifix swinging side to side
• 3 sec clip of me walking with my bike not being to sit on the saddle
• No image, just the sound of the secret doorbell
• 3 sec clip of me naked in his kitchen making them hot drinks

.
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Found myself in a situation today where i was knocked sideways, so much so that i felt winded.

My sisters boys were rumaging through some old photo's at their house, and thought it be funny to find some old pictures of us. All okay, until i turned over 1 picture and it said my 9th Birthday - 2 weeks before the abuse started. it couldn't have been, through self doubt i counted the years up again etc. It was. I was floored: I Could not believe how young i looked, how vulnerable and innocent i looked. I have this image of me looking so, so much older, more streetwise, a bit tougher, the works. It took my breath away. Thats all i can say for now about it, it's just knocked me sideways for a bit.

I've been trying so hard this week not to isolate myself so much, pre this new world of torture, i am quite a social creature, don't like to be missing out on much, love visiting mates for coffee, eating out, general socializing etc.
Now, my days are so diverse that i can't plan social events, i either end up cancelling because i'm deep in the soup, or the anxiety i feel at the thought of socializing becomes too much. Now, my firends don't know anything about this current situation, about my history etc, nor do i want them to know. Maybe one day when i'm in a better place - but i doubt it.
So my friends are used to me having a very busy schedule, full of work, socializing etc, and often a text is all we have time for: But, i got called out this week by a couple of friends, who have started to really feel the lack of contact from me as maybe personal to them, and want to know what going down with me right now. This came about mostly because after 2 nights with no sleep - looking really crap and really tired - i ran out of smokes and had to leave the house and bumped into a mate - who immediately recalled and was like, what's wrong, you look awful...... It rolled off my tongue how i had been feeling flu like and only came out for some supplies etc. i think i managed to get away with it, but for how long can i keep this avoidance up.
Another mate rang me, and was just straight with me, asked me if she offended me in someway, why the lack of contact, visits etc.
What is rough here is that i really value my friends, i love them. But, nothing will ever make me feel i can trust anyone else with my shit - well this shit. I have no reason not to trust them personally, my friends are the people i choose to have as friends, so the cream of the crop in my opinion, but my own trust issues about this are too great.
I just hate to think people are feeling that i don't care for them, or that i am not bothered about our friendship. gee's, i love them all.

I had one really bad day this week, really bad. Awful flashbacks and body memories, of a situation that i am so not ready to talk about, i cant talk about it, i can't go there. It has subsided for now, but i now know its there in flashback formation, which has always been one of my greatest fears, that a few situations that really could tip me over the edge come back in flashback form. I'm not going to panic about it, its subsided for now, it may not come back again. It's dangerous sometimes, this journey. There are times when i dont even need to think will i make it, of course i will, i love life, and i've got a life that i want to get back to and live. There are other times when getting through the day is a challenge, and there are times like i had one day this week, knowing that there are other options available. I need to make clear here that i am not suicidal, the impact on me when someone i loved deeply suicided was like nothing else i have experienced, but there are times when i dont want to live anymore, live with the torture of the memories when they come in flashback form. I can live with the abuse, its the flashbacks that are killing me. There is a difference, i just dont know how to explain it right now.

Is it possible to feel like you are failing at counseling? Can you fail at it? Ummm

How hard can it be to look someone in the eye for 1 second out of an hour?

How hard can it be to say just a bunch of words?

Why is it so hard to hear someone tell you what happened to you was abuse?

Is it possible to die from exhaustion and flashbacks?

Why can't I talk about something with out feeling that i am there?

Why can't i just say that i am tired, i feel like shit and having a fucking crappy day?

Will this get any easier or will it always be so rough?

I felt it was important just to write a bit here today for my own record if for nothing else.

So it been a wobbly week for sure, but an update from the previous jumbled post.

I somehow managed to telephone my counselor (LA from here on in) on Thurs morn, its all a bit hazy now to be honest, i think i kind of felt there was nothing else left to do that could help me: I was past the point of being able to get some control myself, and although as in previous times i'm sure i would have managed it by myself just by burning out in a few days time, i just felt i needed help then as somehow it felt different than before.

So i managed to telephone, and as i said its all a bit hazy, i presume LA asked me to go over and see her, which i did. i dont remember the journey at all, but that's no big deal. I think we just spent some time getting grounded, getting my breathing back in sync, and trying to get some perspective on that i was safe now, and these were memories. I recall LA telling me a few times that i need to be the adult in control, the adult me can keep the mini me safe until its okay to talk about stuff, i'm now an adult and the memories and the feelings are that, memories and feelings and that i'm safe now. The bit i do remember is LA telling me that it will get better/more manageable, its like brain training, and with time i will be able to get to the point where i will be able to control the memories so that they are just memories and not feeling like they are happening now and not feeling consumed by them (or something similar to that). So that sounds like good news to me, just need to learn fast!

I told LA that i was scared to trust her because i was scared of feeling like i needed her or was reliant on her, i cant remember all that was said, but it was on the lines of of viewing it differently, more like support, while i need the support, until i can manage the process/thoughts/feelings by myself, i like that way of viewing of it, and she is right you know, because in my head now its no different that going on some learning and development oppotunities to learn a new part of a job, it just i'm learning to process stuff that happened years ago and how to manage it to continue to live an effective and full life, and maybe the part of me not wanting to be and feel vulnerable also needs twizzling round: If you don't know how to work Excel, Powerpoint, database, adobe captivate etc on a computer and you went on a 30 week course to learn it, you would feel vulnerable at the beginning because its something new, you might be unsure as to whether you would grasp it and retain it. I know its different because we are talking about feelings here, raw feelings which your whole life seems to be pivoting around, but if i want to get to the otherside - which i most certainly do, then surely its a small risk to take?

You know, i so like having better days like today, when you have had your 7 hours sleep, flashback free and you got plans for the day which dont include having a mini breakdown and a major panic session, yay for good days! And it doesn't matter that its a cloudy rainy day outside.

I think somehow its all become a bit clearer in my head, or maybe now i can be more accepting that there is a process to get through to the other side. If i can learn to control the flashbacks and the feelings that go with them it would be a massive step. LA thinks that once i can start to talk about the flashbacks and work through them with her it will help massively, and although there is alot that i need to get out that hasnt yet been in flashbacks, i guess we start with the flashbacks as these are the most predominant thoughts. I think my previous thoughts on not wanting to talk about the flashbacks were around LA not knowing stuff that lead up to it and me not wanting to just deal on something that feels massive which she doesn't yet know existed. Like she knows that there were 3 people who regularly abused me, she doesn't know that sometimes they had friends visit or that i was sent to visit their friends - its not that i don't want to tell her that, its just that i'm not there yet. But if a flashback i am struggling to hold involves when a visitor came to visit, it doesn't feel okay talking about that because she doesn't know about the visitors yet. Not sure if that makes sense, but i'm just going to have to get over that bit other wise the flashbacks just wont get talked about and they end up coming back to taunt me some more, which is what is happening with this one i have been having - luckily its gone away again for now, but its like the third time it has come up, spent days fucking with my head and gone again, i guess this one is gonna need getting out because it sure isnt going away, yet compared to other stuff, i dont know why its so difficult to hold.
The only way i can describe what re-occuring flashabcks are like is a bit like a tornado. With no warning, it starts, it builds up until i cant take it anymore and shatters everything in my life, i can't function, my thoughts spiral out of control i lose what is reality and what is memory. After it peaks, it gradually goes away again, just leaving destruction, raw feelings, confused feelings and feelings that i cant yet put a name to. Then at some point it comes back again. This is what we have to work on to stop.

I'm not sure i can do this anymore, this process, this journey, this "healing". The problem is i can't get over the proverbial roundabout, trust me, if there was a choice i was jump off right off. This isn't about having a rough day, nor is it about finding it difficult, it is just too rough, too unsafe and too confusing and too close a call.

I had my counseling appt 2 days ago, i was having a good day, it wasn't a deep session, talked mostly about my family dynamics, when i was younger and now and yeah it was difficult but i was okay with it.

2 days later and more frequently than ever i feel out of control, my emotions feel out of control, my logical thought process feels out of control.

Right from a very early age, i was always in control of my emotions and feelings. I may not have been able to control what happened around me or to me, but i could process how i thought about it and managed it in my own way, and i guess the outcome of that was that i never spoke about my thoughts or feelings, i kept them to myself. Having my own rules in my head actually somehow kept me sane, albeit often causing me more pain, you would think being told that something causing you pain would stop if you cried, you would just cry: nope, my rules, no tears.
As an adult, still the same, in control of my emotions and feelings, that isn't to say that i am not emotional, i sure can be, but about others, other issues, other people's lives. Drill down to me and pretty much dead. I can with people i really trust open up more, but its rare and still controlled. I made alot of choices and decisions when i was young and it becomes clear that these were choices made by someone in captivity, and somehow i never moved on from that.

Diverse for a moment, my job: I am seriously hanging on by my finger tips, and feeling those slipping. i have now given back every other responsibility that is not actually part of my job, i'm not doing any voluntary work, not on any project meetings, not on any boards. I know that i do the job of three people so regardless of being in a head space that is not always manageable, i would be freaking busy, but you know, i'm missing deadlines. It's a bit like playing a space invader game, some are passing me by and i've got no chance of hitting the deadline, some of them i didn't even see coming, of course, i respond by saying yep nearly done and spend the next 24 hours solid working on it and no one knows any difference, but it would be silly of me to think i can keep that up. I'm drowning.

I have 2 problems here (yeah, laugh, just 2!), but this is how i can explain it it my most logical but illogical way:
Counseling/trust/feelings/vulnerability. (rolled into 1 problem). My counselor, seriously, she is ok, i like her, feels like a good fit. I do feel lucky, i see some of the other counselors in the place and think "thank fuck i haven't got them". Just their general outlook on life, overhearing their conversations (not professional ones), just their body language, idk. So the issue here is i'm starting to trust her, not massive trust, but enough to make me feel vulnerable, enough to make me feel scared, enough for me to know that maybe this is my time. The double edged sword here is i don't want to trust her, trusting her means telling her stuff, means talking about feelings, means unpacking all of it and a thousand other things. You see, of course, but i do want to trust her, no one is making me go for counseling after all, this is of my own free will. Now, on a % scale, i would say she knows right now about 1% - but thats enough to make me feel vulnerable. The issue as well is around managing my emotions in between appts, so much happens emotion wise for me right now in 1 week that i could have gone up and down big time twice in the time between sessions. But, i don't want to rely on her, rely on her support, rely on her being able to listen or to be there, yet, i find myself wanting to speak to her when i am finding things particulary difficult - which of course i dont, but the thought is there. In absolute fairness to her, she tells me if ever i want to talk to her/meet for an extra session i just need to ring the office and they will contact her for me and she will call me. I couldn't ask for any more. I got so close this morning to telephoning, phone in hand - but them realized that i wouldn't know what to say if i did somehow get to speak to her, because i don't know what the problem is (as in how to say what i need from her). I keep getting this overwhelming instant anxiety, which increases in intensity as the weeks go on, mix that in with some crappy flashback that i am trying so hard not to acknowledge, mix that in with some body memories/ real physical pain sensations and i'm about ready to burst at the seams. What scared me the most here was that i actually thought about ringing her, i actually thought about saying in person to someone some of the crap in my head. Not good.
I guess you may be reading this and thinking, this is a good sign, talking about it will help, everyone feels nervous about opening up. This isnt how it is. what scares me the most is i wont be able to control how i feel, what emotions i will feel, what i may say, what will come tumbling out, and most of all, not being able to put myself back together and seriously just falling apart and staying that way. Like shattering a jigsaw and throwing away 20 pieces so it will never get whole again. This right now feels like a serious threat, it feels like the risk is too great. I seriously know that some days, i would struggle to pass a mental capacity test, thats not said with a twist of humour, thats some days how it feels. Yet 12/24 hours later i can haqve kicked my own ass that hard i can be back on the shop floor managing my units effectively. So fucking diverse.

My second problem: I'm falling apart. That is said with a twist of humour, but let me explain this briefly. A few months ago i started this journal, yeah, i was all over the place emotionally/mentally. I need you to use your imagination here and think of the whole me as my house ( i know its hard when you dont know me or my house, but go with me).
6 months ago, all systems working good, maybe a few window catches needed tending to, lurking in a locked cupboard was a monster that was about to shatter my world.
5 Months ago, monster comes out and shatters some windows, everything gets shaky.
3 months ago, monster smashes everything in the house, all the windows, doors, furniture and monsters disappears off leaving behind a massive whole in the front of the house and an eddy inside.
Now: Every system in house is broken, no electric, no gas, no heating or water, no shower, no cooker, no nothing, empty vacant house, no doors, completely vulnerable, my safe haven is upstairs, the stairs have been pulled down but there is a rope, some days i can reach the rope others i cant, some days i feel safe other i don't, some days i feel i can ask for help, others i can't. Some days i'm so confused and dizzy from being stuck in the eddy that i dont know the difference between real pain and remembered pain.
Somedays i feel strong enough to start repairing the house, other days i want to walk away, in what ever shape or form that is.

In all of this, what i just don't get is this: I know what happened to me, i lived through it, i've held it quite okay in my own way for all of these years, i don't get how it can be so unmanageable now. I was abused as a kid, so were unfortunately millions of other people, it happened. I accept it, what the fuck else do i need to do for it to be okay?

Its a dangerous place to be this close to the edge of sanity sometimes and knowing that you are there......

I have no idea what to do with myself: That may sound rather strange and fucked up - that's because it is.

Honestly, i just want to run away, get in my car and just drive forever, just drive until i realize the theorists and indeed Columbus were wrong and the world isn't round its flat and i will drive off the edge into some abyss. But, what's the point, i'm only running from me, and i will catch up with myself, i'm clever like that.

I'm not entirely sure whats screwing my head the most, the fact that i am so so SO fucking behind with work or that i somehow have to work through this shitty crappy healing crap lark to feel like i am human.

I fucked up at work this week, i had a multi-disciplinary strategy meeting, my meeting, i was chairing it and i couldn't do it. Oh how i knew i couldn't do it on the morning, i stood shouting at myself in the mirror, telling myself to get a fucking grip, to stop being such a twat and go and do your job. It was too late, already a night with no sleep under my belt, a flashback that has decided its going to stay put and "just thought i would make an appearance" fight or flight anxiety.  Yeah, so i fucked up. One of my biggest fears in all of this - can i keep hold of my job, can i do enough on the better days to keep my head above water, oh, i'm slowly realizing i can't. Honestly, if nothing new landed on my lap and somehow i could absorb any new developments with out having to read about them, my work load is about 6 months deep, and thats not even with projects that i want to be doing or new initiatives that i want to be taking forward, or updating or reviewing documents, i feel so swamped, i dont know where to even make a fucking start, and of course, the pile grows daily.

Oh and counseling this week, yep, fucked that up as well. I was agitated, had fucked up with work, was really struggling with this stupid flashback, all i could do was hold on tight and try not to crumble into some weeping mess. I managed it, but in my own fucked up way. I'm now going again tomorrow, yep twice in 1 week means i'm doubly fucked up. All credit to her, she could see i was fucked up and wants me to talk about whats fucking my head up, umm, thats where i fail, again. Yet, i know i need to do this to move on, it's no different than saying i broke my ankle - is it?

Okay, test 1: While on holiday, i was playing volleyball with the locals, i jumped and landed on a rock that was buried beneath the sand. Upon landing my ankle snapped, i was in pain and i was physically sick. I went to the hospital, had an x-ray, had broken my ankle in 3 places and torn all the ligaments, had plaster cast put on and given crutches. How did i feel? (My counselors constant question) - i felt in pain, i felt disappointed that my plans for the holiday had gone down the pan with the activities i had already booked, i felt annoyed and vulnerable at the hospital because of the language barrier, not knowing what was going on apart from them showing me my x-ray and holding up 3 fingers.

Okay, test 2: While at the abusers house i realized they were all off their fucking nuts on some narcotic. I was picked up and held while the others stripped my clothes off, naked with in seconds. They were also stripping just as fast like someone had said first one to get bollock naked gets another purple om. I was put on the table and was suffocated with in minutes. Fuck, i can't do this

This is just a bookmark.

ARGHHHHH

Fuck it, fuck all of it.

 It is so not okay to be me right now, my days are so random, my thoughts are so random and I am just fucked off with it.

Why? Because I don't want it, it is as simple as that. I know the abuse is part of me, it has helped in someway shape who I am today, i get that, i'm even okay with that because who esle would i be, i don't know any different than who i am. So i get all of that, but there is no fucking need for it to be fucking with my head like this.

It's fucking crazy making shit. Why isn't it just simple, why does this have to be different.

Do i think about/have flashbacks about/not sleep about/feel consumed by other stuff that have caused me some grief in my life - No - so why not - lets list a few.

• Being sexually assaulted at age 6
• Being kidnapped at age 8
• Watching your mother jump out of moving car and rolling and rolling in the road - age about 10
• Being belted - aged 5,6,7,8,9,10,11,12.
• Being held up against the wall with a knife - aged 12
• Watching your father restrain your mother because she is going to kill herself and me - aged 13
• Feeling responsible for mother leaving home because i didnt eat my tea - Age 5 to 12
• Being dragged by my hair for 10 mins in the centre of town and no one stopping her to tell her to fucking stop it. Aged about 9
• Having your shorts and pants pulled down in street and having your arse smacked - age about 7
• Having your mother be told that you were sexually abused - then never speaking to you about it.
• Breaking your arm so badly that a specialist surgeon needs to be brought in, knowing at aged 5 you want to die from pain and watching your mother just leave the room.
• Attempting suicide - age about 14
• Running away from home at 16 - sometimes living on the streets
• Finding what you think is love, then him dying before you get the chance to find out if it was. Age 17
• Attempted mugging - he came off worse. Age about 25
• Standing on the top of a cliff feeling content with your decision to jump. Age - numerous occasions
• Breaking my ankle in 3 places while abroad.
• Physically assulted while in my car, trapped by my seat belt - they didn't get my car though. Age 30
• Being held hostage in your own house by someone who was infatuated with me (lordy knows why) - i actually felt sorry for them so didn't act when i should have done - umm. Aged 30
• Having someone who i loved deeply suicide. Seeing it, regretting missing the call and text. Aged 34

Ah, that was cathartic if nothing else. This isn't a complete list, just what i am willing to share today, this isn't about having had some shit times in life, shit happens, it does in most people's lives, its just how it is, i get that if you haven't had the kind of life i have lived this list may seem a bit heavy, but you know, its not, honestly, it really isn't, it just unfolded how it did and i'm okay with it. I actually feel pretty lucky, things could have been alot worse, i got myself into some very tricky situations as a kid but luckily managed to get out of them as well, i have been in some tricky situations as an adult, more times than i can say where i have thought a sexual assult was on the cards, but somehow, i got myself out of it, there is a big part of me that can nearly say 100% i wont ever be sexually assulted again, they would have to kill me first, i learnt some self defence some years ago so that would help, but i know unless i was intoxicated to the point of being unable to retaliate or because i was knocked out i would fight till my death - i may be having false illusions here, but its what i think, so.

Okay, there there is my 75% complete list of lifeism's. I can deal with all of them, they don't cause me sleepless nights, or flashbacks, or triggers (maybe a few triggers in there but nothing i cant handle). So why the fuck can't i handle being abused as a kid??? The thing here as well is that i don't think you need to have been abused to have the feelings that i have, these feeling can occur for any number of reasons if you were traumatized or if something had that much impact on you: You don't only feel shame if you have been abused, you don't only feel vulnerable if you have been abused, you dont have to been abused to have a dislike to sex, get what i mean?

So why cant i just let it go. Some warped fucked up people decided they were going to have sex with this kid, so they did. Thats the deal, just let it go. I cant change it, i cant alter how i felt, i cant change the outcome, they cant take it back, i cant pretend it didnt happen, it is part of who i am. So FUCK OFF from screwing my head up. I accept it, i totally accept it, what else do i need to do. I know what happened, i'm not in denial, i know what they did. So why this stupid fucking video in my head showing it to me again. I don't need to remember what pattern the carpet was, i know it, i dont need to be shown the kid looking frantically for its clothes, i remember it, i dont need to be shown an adult fucking a kid, i remember it, i dont need to be shown a kid throwing up because adult used her mouth for oral sex, i remember it, i dont need to be shown the kid not being able to stand up because she has been fucked so hard in every orifice that she is too weak to stand, i fucking remember it.

Breathe.............

A summary of the last couple of weeks flashbacks. You know, its okay.

Breathe............

Seriously, its okay, i can hold it. But i dont want it, thats my point. Who would want this floating around their head on a sunny day - exactly - no one, so why is it floating round in my head. I know it happened, i can hold it, i know it wasn't the kid's fault.

I would, seriously, sell everything i own to not have this in my head. Material things only mean so much. I would sell my house, my beautiful car, my books, my computers, my garden ornaments, my bike, my sun lounger, all my gadget toys, my kites and board and my electric blanket. They don't mean anything, they could all be replaced, i would do that in an instant if it stopped this every day torture.

Okay, so today is just a crappy shitty fuck arse day. Not everyday is like this, if it was, then see ya. But you know, its getting irritating at the least and soul destroying at the most, and somewhere in between is the me who is trying to get on with every day life, trying to keep my head above water with work and failing dismally, trying to keep friends content with a happy hows it going text, trying to help my sister with feeling so ill after chemo again, trying to keep mother dear on an even keel (for my own sanity), trying not to bug my friend with e-mails, trying to go to counseling in a positve state so maybe some of this shit can get talked about.

Okay, thats my 2.15am rant and rave. Insomnia and me are not good friends this week.

Still ARGHHHHHH