I wrote this email July 27, 2008 as a update to my T, who promised to read them while he was on vacation. I lived with my family then and it was pure hell. I had just joined AS, a move that saved my life and gave me a voice. Most of my posts here on AS from back then have been destroyed during the big server crash (es). Some segments of this email is my responses to topics I answered other on but no names will be used.
in so much pain
I am hurting so bad, I never hurt so bad before
i just wanted to be cared for
and loved okay
i am a beacon for the wounded and the broken
that's how I was found not long ago
I thought I could spot a wounded spirit easier than most
Now I paying for this arrogance
every survivor IS NOT your friend
I said it to someone here today
I didn't listen to myself
when I was a kid before I just saw the good and
swallowed the bad
I'm an adult (for the most part) I look for the good
and think I'm bad
kid- never thought what was bad was really toxic good
and what appeared godly and good was really veiled evil
adult- now able to see her childish mistake about family
tries to build another one
among close friends
same deal -she never learns until too late
I feel like I've just been through the most elaborate, the most intense mindf*** of all
I just couldn't see until now
And I am afraid
some of you will understand my rantings, some won't
I assure you I'm not crazy
just tired and wounded
I never saw any of the coming - I guess that's life for ya
as that Van Halen song Jump goes
you gotta roll with punches til you get to what's real (that one's for you Jazz)
Can a child still love their abuser?
I am a survivor of CSA. Even though I am 39 yrs. old I still love my father, I hate myself because I do. Early on I was a Daddy's girl. He is the first man I ever loved. I was proud of him and wanted to be like him. But somehow he lost it and broke me, I've been coping and making repairs constantly ever since. I repressed those horrible memories because I think it would have been too hard to hug him, laugh at his lame jokes, I wanted to be wanted because I always felt unwanted. Somehow he made me want to be touched by him in that way, and years later I feel totally perverted when I think about how he sometimes made by body feel. And it hurts. So sometimes I SI to get him out of me. I chose to hate myself so intensely because the alternative was hating him with all my might.
I love him now even though most of the memories are back or coming back and I am slowly getting better. He is in a nursing home and I can't fake it anymore, so I rarely go see him.
second verse same as the first, but better.
Forgive me if I'm a little long ** but I have to tell
A lot has transpired since I entered this post - time is going faster than the speed of light it seems. I left out the reason I love my father... . He was once a little boy. Innocent, laughing and loving life and God. He tells me this story of him praying in a field as a young boy, he didn't explain why, but a terrible storm was coming in. I was reading Louise Day's book "You can heal your life" where she encourages one to look at their parents as a small young child, and come to some forgiveness for that child. I saw my mother as a girl. But was unable to visualize my father, and I became furious and threw the book across the room. I have not read that book since. But it triggered something in me and slowly I began to see him as that boy in the field alone, a violent storm quickly approaching, his mother running, calling him frantically to come inside. A tornado was coming. No one ever saw that the invisible tornado had already came and took the boy. My father was sexually abused by some man he knew.
I think the first person he told was his angry suicidal daughter who told him of her repressed abuse by a neighbor, in which he replied get over it. It was me. I ranted telling him he had f**ked up everything in his whole life because of it. I almost confronted him about abusing me, but even through my anger I was terrified. I drove off in anger. I planned to cut all ties with him even if it meant dividing the family. Days later he followed me from the store begging me to talk to him, I ignored him and for two blocks he rolled behind me. I could not stay angry for some reason, a week later I found him outside my apt. I made a truce, I was not finished fighting the war. A few years later I confronted him again this time I was direct. He lied and was so convincing I forced myself to think I was the perverted daughter, much to my current T's relief. But that did not hold and I knew in my heart without a doubt it was true. Once again my world shattered. And sibling took sides to this day I think they most are on his, I am alone. I've been through a lot of therapy and at some point the anger parted like the Red sea and let in understanding, and it's companion pain.
This is when I saw the boy. Who grow up and had the little girl he loved who was me. I think my father was a survivor time bomb. When I was SA by the neighbor I think somehow he saw my shame which was a reflection of his own, and he snapped, and exploded all over me.
He physically, mentally and spiritually abused my brothers and sisters, I think I (and maybe a sister) were the only ones
he touched sexually.
Every few years during the course of my life, I would have a reoccurring nightmare about a horde of angry tornadoes chasing me. A tornado in a dream means turbulence somewhere in your life. I did not put this together until today, when a chain of events knocked me off kilter.
I love my father because he was once that boy,the man I hated. There was no therapy for a little Black abused boy in rural Mississippi in the 40's. He almost had no chance of diffusing that bomb inside him. And that makes me very sad. Maybe I can find forgiveness in this wisdom and diffuse my own.
Thank you for allowing me to post this. I hope it helps someone. (Esp our male survivors)
things are moving scary fast
today started off well I was confident, that I would have little impact from your absence. I was sure my troops were assembling around my camp ready to engage in battling the evil forces of deborah's shame. I was wrong. Impact was felt. I cannot explain the whole thing here as it is still and ever developing, so keep biting those nails for the next post.
BTW- I called and called for the back up T to no avail. Was it me???
I hope this made some sense. I barely edited this because this is where I was at the time.
Thank you for reading this far.