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masongator
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Posting this because my brain won't let go and I need a break. But I talked about it yesterday in therapy about the way I've suddenly begun grieving. One of the biggest questions for me that's still unanswered is "why now?" I started being SA'd approximately 17 years ago, starting with being groped and having my body talked about sexually by my neighbor and brother and describing ways they wanted to SA me. The first memory that came back to me was my neighbor's cousin sexually exposing himself to me and, over time, coercing me to follow him to a place where he orally assaulted me while he made
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I don't want to do anything except sleep. That's all I've been able to do except for work, mostly. Everything hurts too much.
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Today was emotionally a hurricane for me. Everything seemed to remind me of my brother and everything about my brother reminded me of him touching me and every reminder of him touching me just brought the snickering sound of my mom laughing his abuse off and defending him. I struggled with the fact that she didn't get me a single present because she doesn't love me. It all set in how much of a lie my life had been. Staring at the forgotten remains of the childhood I thought I had all day broke me a little. I started crying at work. It really truly felt like I wasn't worth loving if even my mom
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This isn't really a recovered memory but just something that occurred to me. At one point I was trying to see how much I could remember of my early childhood. A lot of it seems murky. I just was curious... I had no intention to reopen old wounds. Then I realized that around the age of 3, maybe early into 4, I had exactly one memory that's still somewhat intact. It reaffirmed to me, crystal clear, that there just wasn't love where I thought there was. I remembered being absolutely terrified, but I can't remember why. There was a baby gate. I was carrying a blanket around, an at the time a
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@PlumSundae @ShyUnicorn Sorry for the delayed response as I've been giving myself a break mentally; it means a ton that my healing is visible. It's really an honor knowing that my thoughts have inspired such reverence in you both. I didn't think I could write something someone would consider to be one of the most powerful things they've ever read is an incredibly special and wonderful feeling. Thank you both for the kindness and investment in my healing.
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@rabbitprotectsme I really don't think I can get you to understand how much I needed to read that right now. I JUST got out of a huge spiraling crying fit of "it isn't worth it, you're weak, you let this happen, and all this 'healing' is fucking cope, there's no reason for you to continue" and all the fun things that come with that. I really needed to be reminded that my strength is real. That it's not what my crumbling brain wants to believe. Thank you. I can't say it enough times.
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I'm currently left with not much to do except stew in my thoughts and emotions. I think I've done enough rotting... for now at least. I have a lot to say. I sat for quite a bit with the realization that I'm not just grieving my dad. I'm simultaneously grieving the fact that I had the possibility of a safe and happy childhood forcibly taken from me by my abusers for reasons I don't even fully know. Grief, for me, has always been late to arrive. I understand in my dad's case, that I didn't attend the funeral and didn't really grieve him when he died because there was a lot of emotional toxi
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Sometimes I just want to know what the people in my life think it is that gives them right to take everything, even my safety, from me with no questions asked, no consequences. Today is one of those days.
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Today, Silas has been a little more expressive and it's excruciating. He said today, "why did we let this happen?" over and over. Just to himself. He also lifted his shirt and made motions across his stomach and arms; he wanted to cut those spots. All he wants is to cuddle with me; he's still scared to directly speak to me. I'm sorry I let you down little one. I'll at least be here for you to rest against.
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Spent time with Silas today. I think the biggest thing I need to focus on with his arrival is giving him the space and opportunities to show himself more. I visualized him while we were at the library. He looked at me curiously but still won't talk any more than he has. He seems uneasy around passersby. I guess I need to make sure I have safe places to relax alone with him more often, and make sure I feel safe more often too. He can't feel safe if I don't. There's got to be a easier way. While we had some privacy he showed me some concerning things. He hid his private area and refused to
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Spent last night asleep with Silas curled up against my chest. He's shy to speak still. He's warming up to affection though. Imagined I kissed him goodbye before I went to work. If you need to retreat for now Silas, I understand. I hope you'll visit me again soon. Next time, you can pick one of my plushies if you need something to hold onto. I'm always here if you want to say something or if you don't. You deserve nurture, you deserve your wounds to be dressed and if I'm the only warm thing you have to rest against, come whenever you feel like you need it. You don't have to earn it. I'll never
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It's Just Us, You're Safe to Come Out
masongator commented on masongator's blog entry in Untangling It All
I appreciate the warm welcome for Silas. I'm lying with him wrapped up in my arms, running my hands through his hair. I don't think I understood before he showed up how much I needed him. -
I spoke with the little boy in my head tonight (if you're reading this, the context is in my post titled When I Speak). He showed up and I visualized him peeking over my shoulder. He's scared but inquisitive. He's been using my voice and it seems like he's scared to be punished for it. I'm grateful you're here and talking to me, little one. I'm not angry. This is one of the only ways you can get help. I know nobody else sees you. But I know you're here and when you're ready, you can say what you need to. We can get comfortable and cuddle if you need. I know you're a little piece of me. I know
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You... you're just in my memory now. I'll never hear those loving words from your voice again, with a surprise waiting for me in the passenger seat of your truck just so you could see my smile. Sometimes I touch the bed and wish you were with me again, like when I was tiny. I remember your warm skin and your rough face and your bear hugs. I wish I could read The Hobbit to you again while we both forgot about our own pains for awhile, just one last time. I wish I could've let you know that you were my rock. You didn't know. I don't blame you for it. You couldn't have known. You weren't th
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I've tried to find this journal you're talking about, but I can't. Maybe I'm misunderstanding and referring to something you wrote but didn't post, idk. It's weird, she talks about having always protecting me from people trying to hurt me, yet not noticing the assault that happened just outside her front door. I haven't been safe for a very long time. Sure, I wasn't physically getting beat up. But emotionally and mentally, I have never been allowed to be safe. I'm always hiding away because the only thing she's communicated to me is that if I say how I feel, she's just going to scream at me. I
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I thought about this for a good while. I think big me is just used to feeling emotionally unsafe. I fully expect that if I go to her, she'll tell me what I'm thinking instead of my own opinion of my emotions, and the second I say she failed me, she won't be able to take it. Even minor criticism of her parenting and pushing that no, these relatively small incidents still hurt me, resulted in being punched and threatened with homelessness. On my birthday no less. It makes sense that I'm numb. If I ever let it out she'll fly into a rage and I'll lose everything. I have to stay silent because
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I should be asleep. I just can't right now. I feel like I need to get this off my chest so I can get some sleep. Lighten my mental load I guess. I hate how detached I've become. I don't feel like a victim, and I mean that in a bad sense. I know there's pain present, it's just that I don't feel it. I've never shed one tear over my assaults themselves. I cried for 2 straight hours Thursday after seeing my mom helpless from surgery and medicine. Again, it's because I hate her. Once my family left me alone the flood gates just opened in the waiting room. But I felt more pain that she didn't h
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Sorry if I don't always respond to replies or take awhile to get to them. I'm not ignoring you, I promise. It doesn't give me a lot of anxiety to post but it does to reply back, even if it's the most loving reply possible. I'm still working on engaging with other people about my trauma.
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Finally found friends I regularly spend time with who I feel comfortable with telling I'm an SA survivor. I feel so loved.
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@Bayoubabe I have had this problem for years, it's just especially difficult now that I realize that I've been assaulted bc I have never wanted to cry as much in my life as I do now. I suffered physical, verbal and emotional abuse in childhood that would have family screaming at me if I dared to cry or sometimes, couldn't cry when I needed to. If I did something wrong and started crying after I was hit, I'd be verbally abused over the crying and told I was trying to get sympathy I didn't deserve. That it "wouldn't work on them". This is why it happens. Now, I am on medication but I don't notic
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That title is not an interjection or hyperbole. I found myself literally asking God to just please, please let me weep or cry or something from all of...this. I cannot do it, I have not allowed previous trauma to cause me to cry for a long time unless I am actively and severely triggered by something. But I feel so much like a fraud of a victim or survivor or whatever we're going to call it because I have not managed to shed a tear. I sat there welling up with tears multiple times the past few months, and every time my body just automatically stops it. I don't want that. I want it to finally c
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At this point I'd rather just be in pain. I'm so so tired and scared of constantly going numb to everything and shutting myself down.
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@Jaylorethank you for being so empathetic.
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Sometimes I pour over my own thoughts realizing just how warped my brain is. To whatever extent my own self awareness allows me to see it anyway. I have reflected so much on those external affirmations that it really was not my fault. That I was just a child doing what I thought would get the harassment to stop. As much as I appreciate hearing that type of reassurance, it kind of only gets at half the problem, and that's not anyone's fault really. It's one thing to hear it and feel less guilty, it's another to hear that part of your brain that operates on trauma actively trying and failing to
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Putting this down as a quick little vent before bed so I don't have to sleep with this on my chest. I keep thinking of how much it hurts realizing how many times I've been cast aside. There are probably more repressed memories of it that will crawl their way back to me. I get nightmares sometimes worrying that people won't believe me, even though I'm fully aware the call is coming from inside the house in those instances. I sometimes hear on my head my assaulter's sounds of pleasure when he took advantage of me. Then it occurs to me how many times my loved ones turned their back on me before h
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Learning to Allow Myself Affection
masongator commented on masongator's blog entry in Untangling It All
@PlumSundae I'm so glad you found hope for yourself in my writing. It's nice to know what has essentially been journaling me has helped you as well. Thank you again for your reminders that I am not too much and that the trauma of my assault is as valid as anyone else's; initially I wrote the opening as seeming pretentious because well, some people find self love to be a pretentious idea. But I realized in that, reading it back, I wasn't valuing myself and respecting my own trauma enough to consider recovering self love as something everyone ought to respect. I should work on that. I hope we ca
Be kind to yourself and engage at whatever pace feels safe enough.
