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.
Wednesday, 28 July 2010
Tuesday, 27 July 2010
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.
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.
Monday, 19 July 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, 14 July 2010
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
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
Saturday, 12 June 2010
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.
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.
Wednesday, 19 May 2010
.
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.
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.
Saturday, 8 May 2010
.
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.
----------------------------------
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?
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.
----------------------------------
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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