I have desperately tried to take responsibility for my own life and be perfect, and deal with my issues in private. But I had a breakdown... Now my parents see me for the wreck I am. God, now "I" see myself for the wreck I am. They think I'm a mental case that does not put faith in God enough anymore. They say I'm an alcoholic and cannot fathom why I would ever want to slice my flesh like that, or threaten to take my life. They shake their head at me as if I am some sort of disappointment.
I've been doing a lot of thinking lately and have come to the conclusion that my mother wasn't just merely neglectful, did not just simply "fail to protect me."
She actively sexually abused me.
I have a knot in my stomach as I write this. Today was the first time I've ever said that out loud. I said it to my T. I've always thought about it in terms of her being mean and rough and slapping me around. For some reason I've never seen it like that before. I've been thinking and think
My disabilities and birth defects made me a stressful child and i was the youngest of three. Children are not little adults. Feeding your child and taking them to the doctor doesn't earn you "mother of the century" awards. I feel so hurt and ignored and like an object around you, mom. All my life. I shouldn't feel more safe and loved by my doctors and teachers and occupational therapists. So many times I wanted them to take me home instead. I don't believe you or anyone else when you say you lo
It is a good day. My husb and I are in town at Walmart shopping. I remember we were in a good mood, flirting with each other. Unsuspecting, we casually walk down the deodorant aisle. Like bees we sample some of the offerings, slightly opening the lids just a crack, enough to smell the contents, sharing the ones we liked, then jamming the sticks back in those springloaded deodorant holder thingys.
"Do I want to smell like this?"
"How about this one?"
"Do you want me to sme
I hate everything about you right now. I hate how comfortable and happy you are. I hate that you have no physical pain. I hate that you went back to normal after I told you something you did that completely altered my life. Something you remember doing. I hate how little power I have over everything and how Dad trusts and respects you still. It feels like a betrayal every time Dad talks to you like he doesn’t know what you did. He talks to me about you casually like I want to hear a damn thing.
The worst lies I was ever told were the ones I told myself. They were the lies my shame told me - the goal of this lying was to protect myself, to make the situation seem "not so bad." If it was my fault, I could have prevented it, right? I could have stopped it. If I can minimize the awfulness, then it's not so bad. If it's not so bad then really, did it happen? Maybe I'm making a mountain out of a molehill. Maybe my pain doesn't matter.
Some of these lies I stopped believing a long tim
I'm a mom collector. It took me a long time to realize that. I'm super good at collecting sweet caring attentive mother-in-laws. At adopting mother-figures and grandmother-figures. I've been married twice, divorced twice, and have had awesome in-laws both times. I still am very close to both of them.
Whenever I talk about my childhood, I give all the credit for raising me to my Gram. I feel like my mom shouldn't get any credit, since almost none of the positive things I've learned have been
***********************FAIR WARNING***************THERE IS BRIEF DISCUSSION OF SUICIDAL THOUGHTS***********************
This ongoing battle within myself is quite painful. I like to believe that I have a reasonable amount of intelligence. But this battle I am not winning. I am not okay most days but I am really not okay today, this week. It's like the battle of an angel on one shoulder and the devil on the other. Both trying to lay out their case on why I she be on there side. But t
THIS MAY BE TRIGGERING
The 5th anniversary of my father's death has past and I survived.
All of the doubts I had this past week about whether my father could ever hurt me - they were unsubstantiated.
Last night while trying to go to sleep - flashes of abuse appeared in my head. I was small, maybe 5 or 6. I'm standing in front of his bed, he is directly behind me. He pushed my head down on the bed, he becomes frustrated because I'm not tall enough.. He picks me up and puts me on
When we still lived in the city I broke my foot. Well, actually, what happened was I pushed my sister off of my dad's lap. He was sitting on a chair in the living room. As punishment he threw me across the room and I hit the wall. I landed and my left foot felt like it was on fire. Mom told me that I needed to stop crying cuz I wasn't a baby. I couldn't stand up. I missed dinner because my mom said "I'm not going to put your plate on the floor like a dog." I remember I couldn't walk on it. I cra
Here we are with what is starting to feel like the movie Groundhog Day. A repeat of the same old nonsense. Another night of wanting an emotional release from the thoughts that are swirling. Another night that I find little relief.
Images and negative thinking that seems as normal as breathing today. Tackling back and forth with myself on who is at fault and what I can do better. Fighting the feelings of whether I remember it all correctly. Was it as some would say normal childhood explorat
It's been about a week that this mild insomnia has been going on. It started slowly months ago. I went from going to bed at a decent hour to staying up until 1 or 2 am. Now I am at no sleep or sleeping at 3 or 4 am. It's one of those things that spirals out of control before you become aware of it or why it happened.
But I know why. I know how it started and why. Partially my fault because I cant say no. I removed myself from a stressful position to a much less stressful job. Best move at t
This memory resurfaced on the same night in conjunction with the memory of my having mercy on my father for hurting me.
This memory took place the day after I “Had Mercy on My Father”. I was still recovering from the blow to my head from my Dad the day before and had sore spots on my body from where I slammed into the wall, and fell to the ground. I was still confused as to why he gave me the option to turn him in. Was it reverse psychology? Or did he really have a change of heart? I was so
This memory resurfaced last night while trying to fall asleep in bed.
I think I was 15 and my sister was 10 at the time. It was Sunday morning. We were getting dressed to go to our Sunday Meeting at our usual place of worship. My mom was out of town for the weekend. My father is the coordinator of elders (equivalent to a church’s pastor). He said we needed to leave in 10 minutes. I came downstairs ready. I walked into the kitchen, where he was straightening his tie.
He made some remar
My whole life there has been a safety net underneath me put there by mostly well-intentioned people. The thing is that my whole life the safety net has had some major flaws in it. Holes big enough for me to fall through.
One of the tenants of good touch/bad touch education is to empower kids to not keep the secret of csa to themselves. A major problem with this is that some "bad touch" was ok. How do you explain in a clear way that an exam by a doctor is different than the "tickling secret"
When I was little, I think about first or second grade, I came home from school and asked my mom and Gram what an ox was. Gram said "it's like a cow, but bigger."
Mom asked "where did you hear that?"
"At school. There was a play."
"Was it Little House on the Prairie?"
"No, they're saying about good touch and bad touch and don't let nobody touch your privates and stuff like that."
"What does that have to do with an ox?"
"They said your privates is what
Sexual Assault & Orgasm
During an assault, a Sexual Assault Survivor (SAS) may feel overwhelmed with feelings such as exposure, terror, helplessness, worthlessness, and isolation – yet amidst all this annihilating havoc, experience a degree of sexual arousal. This leaves many wondering: why does this happen and how does it effect a SAS's experience of sexual pleasure going forward?
Each of us oscillate between “approac
Ok so I posted a tiny bit and I didn't die. So far. My anxiety has been high, so my body definitely thinks it's going to die, but it's a false alarm. I haven't been sleeping well at all. Even with an as needed anxiety med, and a sleeping pill, and some bedtime tea, and some CBD oil. Don't worry, I didn't overdo it. Just one of each. I just want to pass the fuck out and turn my brain off for a while.
Writing what I did made me remember a few things, like the glass pudding dishes. Like how I
So, before I jump into this I should ask you, the reader, if you'd like to respond, to please just sit next to me. I'm actively afraid of sharing my story and being belittled or pitied. Please remember that I survived.
My earliest memory is lying next to my dad in bed. I am three years old We are in our apartment in the city. My little sister is in a room we share down the hall. I'm pretty sure that my mom is heavily pregnant at this point with my soon to be little brother. She is in bed to
First of all I should say that I feel like I'm going to puke right now. Maybe I just won't send this. Yea, maybe. I'll right it and read it and just delete it.
No one's pushing me to tell this now, just my head feels so full of constantly analysing and going over and over everything. Can I delete it if I don't like it? Later, I mean. Can I come back and erase it if I feel like I've just gutted myself in front of you all? Everyone just gathered around with a disgusted look on their face, pin