Moaning, complaining- tired.

The more I move forward, the more I feel like me. Yet, each and every time we uncover a memory, I feel I’m back to a struggle within myself again. Wondering who I am? And whether other people see the real me?

As I grounded from a flashback at work today, I found myself wondering (again) if anyone knew? Am I transparent? Can they see my thoughts, that sick, disturbing memory that hit me? Or perhaps they see the fight within me as I battle to regain control? And then another familiar thought struck me… what if those around me right now knew the truth of my past? In particular the current issue at hand? How would they react?

Shock and disbelief, I expect? Because that’s what I feel. I have always known, but I’ve never understood. Now it’s out in front of me, it seems so much bigger somehow.

On Friday, in my session, it was if it were moving within those walls, bouncing from one side to the other, it couldn’t be ignored. Yet, I still couldn’t believe it and almost a week on, it’s still the same. The embarrassment and shame, it really does remain.

I wasn’t embarrassed when I told my T, or when I told again yesterday, but since the doubts creep in, whenever I am alone. Intellectually, I know, this is not my shame, but yet somewhere inside that feeling still exists.

It’s a common theme throughout, one I know I’ll have to face time and time again. I cannot help it, it’s not something I can control. I don’t want to be judged, yet I know I judge myself. I am ashamed of what I told. I’m ashamed that was ever me. I wish I could just let go.

I want to erase what was, scrub it from my mind. I don’t want to keep on facing this. It all seems so.. (and I hate saying this) but unfair. I lived it once, I’ve done it, I don’t want to go there again. I hate him for doing this to me, I hate him for everything.

So, can I have a “stamp my feet, it’s not fair” moment please? One where I don’t have to be strong?

I am so damn tired of it all right now. The pain, the anger, the shame, the embarrassment. I’m sick of needing my T so much, tired of being a burden on those helping me. I want it done, over with, or I want to run away.

I cannot stop the tears right now.. and I know that’s probably alright….(?)



Now that moment is over, I’ll pick myself. I’ll go back to my mothering duties and tomorrow I’ll face my demons again.

A hug would be nice. ūüė¶





My reflection

The same as every morning, I dressed for work.

I chose my favourite top, I put on my new skirt.

I tried it with my boots and checked my reflection in the mirror

but that person looking back at me, she seemed so unreal to me.

I recognised those boots and I recognised my clothes,

my makeup was familiar, the room behind, mine.

But those eyes staring out, they were not me

I knew I was in there somewhere, hidden beneath

But in my mirror a stranger looked out at me.

Those 7 teenage years, do not belong to her.

She remembers the before and she remembers ever since,

but those years are unreal for her, as if watched on TV.

My reflection does not feel it, not what I revealed last week.

Those eyes are not connected to the pain held within.

She knows what he did, she knows what that caused.

but that pain does not belong to her, the reality not her own.

So we remain disconnected. ‘Cos I feel it and I know.

But each time she takes over, I seem to lose my ground.

So, I told again, last night. And I hoped she would see

and I will keep on going,¬†until there’s nothing left in me.

Then, she will have no choice, all that will remain will be truth.

And one day I will look in the mirror and I know who I will see.

I will know who’s in the mirror, looking back at me.

Therapy. Pain, Confusion


I find myself counting the hours, sometimes even the minutes; until I see my T again. Week two of this need to be with him and I don’t like it. I don’t like the neediness. I don’t like relying on him so much. Yet once I was there last week, I found myself ready to leave. The session was intense, we reached new depths of feelings, it was awesome in a way, freeing. But so horribly painful, I wanted to run away. I left exhausted and hurt.

The exhaustion may now be gone, but that hurt remains. And I don’t know what to do with it. Nothing, I guess? But it is not that simple and it is not that easy. I’m containing so much and yeah, I’m doing it well, but I can’t get my head around the reality we have faced. I cannot believe it, it doesn’t seem possible. It’s not me, not now and it was not me before, so how can this be? How was it real?

I need some reassurance right now and to know that it’s OK. Not just what I revealed, but what I feel is so unexpected, is it normal? Is it wrong?

I know what my T would say and I try to take comfort in that knowledge and to remind myself in my confusion, that whatever I feel is OK.

It’s serving its purpose, not just the opportunity to speak the truth at last, but it’s getting me where I need to be with the particular issue at hand. It’s helping me to let go of lies that I’ve held close and it’s changing the twisted perception I have, that was groomed into me. But by letting out this secret, it is as if I’ve been forced to turn around, to face the remaining lie that there was ever something good in “him”. And it’s like a punch in the stomach, winded beyond belief. I know it’s my way to more acceptance, but to an acceptance I thought I already had.



It’s a beautiful day, as it was yesterday.¬†I’m no longer there, I am here, it’s today.

There’s a sense of freedom within me. A¬†relief only truth can bring.

But with the intensity of yesterday and the depths we explored,

I am left feeling drained, I am left feeling raw.

I’m still fighting the embarrassment¬†and I’m fighting that shame

even though it’s no longer secret,¬†those feelings remain.





Beyond pain.

It’s beyond ripping off the bandage.¬†It’s beyond exposing the wounds I’ve hidden for so long.

It’s even beyond prodding and poking to make them bleed.¬†Today, it is beyond anything I’ve ever felt before.

It’s as if someone has reached right through me and left a giant, gaping hole.

Because, I told another secret yesterday. In those four walls that which was hidden, finally revealed.

More of that poison, expelled.

And I know it’s the way forward,¬†because that poison has festered far too long.

Close to emotional death, my soul felt smothered; I’ve known for a while now, this is the cure.

Pain is the only way to life and the only way to thrive.

Rape and (in)justice.


I find I’m barely reading the news lately and I feel better for it. I felt guilty at first, I don’t want to bury my head in the sand and pretend the pain and suffering does not exist, but I think I’m OK with protecting myself for now. My husband keeps telling me that it’s important to take care of yourself first. ¬†On a plane, in the event of low cabin pressure, they always tell you to put your own mask, before helping others. And I think that’s fitting here, it’s better to get well first to enable me to help others in future.

However, I can’t miss news stories completely, I catch bits and pieces on the radio and people I know (particularly at work), talk about the news a lot. Lately, there’s been another famous actor in the news, accused (and now found not guilty) of sexual abuse / rape charges. I do not know the specifics because I have deliberately kept away from them. But it was talked about at work this week and I found it very difficult not to get drawn in.

Perhaps it’s just me, but I find these stories so personal. It’s not the not guilty verdict so much, it’s more the reactions of society after. The “those women should be outed and shamed and then put in prison” and then lots of victim blaming, women hating statements. I particularly hate the phrase “cry rape” that’s thrown around every time a rape case makes it into the media. You wouldn’t say “he cried mugging” or “he cried assault,” you just wouldn’t.


I try hard to detach, but I just cannot. I won’t get to see my abuser pay for what he did to me. He won’t be put away for all those years of abuse. Even if my case made it to court (which it wouldn’t) why would I bother, when my sexual history would be dragged into the court room to be used against me? And where I would be called a liar at every turn? Why would I put myself through a system where I would automatically be thought of as a the liar? Instead of proving “his” guilt, I would be proving I was the victim. What kind of system is that?


I really wish I could have seen my T yesterday, so I could have talked this (and other things) through with him. So I could tell him how much this hurts and what a blow it feels to me. He would nod in understanding and let me rant and rave. And it would be safe and controlled with him so I wouldn’t have to be careful with my words (like I am trying to be here, considering the high profile case).

I ache so much right now and this is yet another thing I have to contain.

Victim and embarrassment


Last week in therapy part of our discussion was on identity and my journey in letting go of the things that were either never true or are no longer true. One thing I have consistently struggled with is embarrassment. This goes deeper than I first realised. While in some areas that embarrassment has eased (particularly with my T) I continue to struggle with it even after 20 (ish) months of therapy.

I guess the embarrassment and shame are combined, I can’t always differentiate between the two. I hope when it comes time to face that shame again, I can let go of the embarrassment too.


When I look at people who know of my past, I wonder what do they think of me? Do they see me as a victim? More specifically, do they see me as the rape victim? Those thoughts often cross my mind as I struggle to make eye contact- the embarrassment and shame makes it so hard.

In some ways, the more I separate from my teenage self, the more embarrassed I feel. I struggle to understand how I was taken in, I struggle to relate to the feelings I had back then, because it isn’t something that I would accept now. And while I know that’s why he picked a teen (a grown woman would not have been taken in so easily) my feelings are not so rational.


Lately, I feel more like me than I’ve ever felt before, yet I don’t quite know how to be me around others. What was done to me is part of me. Sure, I’m letting go of the victim identity, but what he did won’t ever just go (which is a whole other blog post) and sometimes I wonder how to be me, without denying my past.

How can I be me, the mother, the wife, the employee, the daughter, the sister etc while also a survivor of sexual abuse? How do I make all that fit together, so I can be free to be me all the time? Perhaps it will be easier once I am over the embarrassment and once I’ve let go of the shame?

Am I alone with these feelings? Is it normal? Part of the process?¬†For now, even though I know all the reasons it shouldn’t, the embarrassment still remains.


I am embarrassed and ashamed that I was groomed. I am embarrassed and ashamed that I was a victim for such a long time and I am embarrassed and ashamed that I was raped.


I look forward to the step forward that leaves the embarrassment and shame behind.