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Day 3 - Client Under Siege



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... :cry:. 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. cry.<SPAN id= cry.<SPAN id= cry.<SPAN id= 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 cry.<SPAN id= cry.<SPAN id= 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.



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Wow, so brave sharing this, shows the horrific confusing internal battle that is incest, sending hugs and thoughts of hope and healing, love teleah

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On 6/1/2019 at 10:43 AM, teleah said:

Wow, so brave sharing this, shows the horrific confusing internal battle that is incest, sending hugs and thoughts of hope and healing, love teleah


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The first thing I thought was wow.  Then I read the responses to the post starting with the same word.  I have been there in that picture of a tornado you describe so well.  The love and loyalty that is attached to incest.  Surely is confusing to say the least.  As one can’t imagine those we love most turning on us or doing something that hurts us in their own benefit.  With it they corrode the foundations a family is built on.  So the family will never admit, or will be devised on admiting this collective shame.  It is just so cowardly to blame the victim.  You love your dad because you are a good loving person.  Being a perp because of being abused does not take away responsibility from abusing.  Being afraid the family would split fall apart was always my fear then I realized it was broken long ago when my brother abused me.  I later helped look after his children, was friends with his wife.  Cared for them.  Was all forgiving. He interfered in all my relationships.  Never wanted me to have a couple.  Now I think he was afraid I would,and could tell someone else about the abuse or would realize that what he had done to me was abuse.  He ended up hating me and teaching his family to despise me.  Inmthe end I felt used again.  Now I have realized it’s important to invest ones affections in new people who are good and nurturing.


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