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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.

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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.