Freedom

Prisoner. 

That was a new word for me in therapy on Friday. My T seems to think it is fitting and I think he may be right.

There was no escaping the abuse, there was never another option for me. Even when everyone else could see an open door, there was no exit for me. I was a prisoner even without restraint. I was enslaved by fear, trapped by his grooming; I may as well have been in chains.

I had resided myself to my fate, even seemingly complicit in my despair. I was shackled to him and I’ve been fighting for release ever since. 

I have not known freedom for as long as I can remember. Freedom was just a word that other people used, it never had any meaning for me. My life was his, my actions a result of his own. Like dark shadows over my life, those imprints of his control still remain. So I work tirelessly to scrub away those marks in order to free myself from his grooming and control.

 

And you know what? It’s working! I am getting closer to the end. I have tasted that freedom in recent months and let me tell you, it is exhilarating.

You see, it is like he has remained with me all the years. It is as if his weight is still on my chest, crushing my lungs, just like back then. Every breath I have taken since, laboured; each inhalation, an effort and that effort is exhausting. It has been such a battle not to give in. That has been my fight everyday for over sixteen years. 

But as I reconnect with my past and work to over come the numbness that has sustained me for all this time, I am learning how to feel all that is buried within me. And with every single second of agony I allow, I find there are true moments (no matter how fleeting) where the enormous pressure is lifting and I can breathe at last.

With every uninhibited breath I am closer to my freedom. A Freedom to feel, a freedom to think, a freedom to choose and freedom to be. 

 

Freedom

 

  1. the power or right to act, speak, or think as one wants.
  2. the state of not being imprisoned or enslaved.
Advertisements

Two enemies

 

I taste the memory on my lips

that lasting touch upon my skin

But I don’t know to who it belongs

I cannot separate him from him

Entangled with them

trapped between two monsters

torturous reminders

are holding me captive.

The invisible scars

chain me to them

an escape, I can only wish.

 

 

And if the only way is through

to feel and to release,

does that mean I must let them in

to intrude on my day

and disturb my dreams?

Where there is frozen terror

and I cannot scream

as two of them are taking me.

And when will I know,

when the end is near,

where I can close my eyes

and feel at peace?

When they will no longer

haunt my dreams

where my bonds will be broken

and I will be free?

Home.

 

The last month or so has been pretty difficult. With an upcoming anniversary (that I cannot seem to distract from) this difficult time doesn’t feel over yet, but the last few days have been a little better.

Yesterday’s day of grounding worked well, I managed to sleep well last night. Unfortunately a work situation today had me struggling with hyper vigilance. I found myself wondering why the heck I inflict myself on the world and equally why I put myself through it, when I feel like such a mess inside.

This afternoon has been better though and as I’ve done a heck of a lot of venting on here lately, I wanted to be sure I include the good as well as the bad.

 

So, this afternoon I was with my children in our small town doing a little shopping. I had parked in a part of town that is crowded during school pick up but very quiet at most other times. By the time we returned to the car, the school traffic had left and it was just my car parked in this place. I put the boys in the car, then as I was putting the shopping and pushchair into the boot of the car, it dawned on me how quiet and even secluded the area was.

And I searched for the panic within me. I waited for the dissociation. I expected the fear. But you know what? It didn’t happen! And I realised that amazingly, I actually felt relaxed and even safe- WOW!

I do feel safe where I live and that is clear to me now. Sure, there are plenty of times I feel afraid while at home or out in town, but it’s about past issues, or the PTSD, not about where I live.  And it’s good to know the difference between fear of the past and how I feel now.

Before today, I don’t think I really realised how I felt about where we lived. We are about to buy a house in this town and now I feel confident in our decision. This town is home for me now.

It feels good to have a home where not only am I safe, but I feel safe too. How awesome is that? 🙂

 

 

Therapy on Friday helped in more ways than one. But it seems to be propelling me forward into a place I suddenly don’t feel ready for. I’m not ready to write about that place yet, at least any more than poetry stuff.

The letter to my abuser, that I shared here the other day (“Our Lies, letter to my abuser”) was a result of another shift in my perception of my abuser. The letter helped, it brought a whole heap of anger and hate to the surface which I released a little with my T on Friday. I certainly feel calmer for it this weekend.

I’m very aware that after next week I have 3 weeks off therapy and while I’m fairly sure I’ll cope without my T, I am not allowing myself to explore anything (new) too deeply right now. I feel like I’m containing, just about. I won’t be risking jeopardising that in my last therapy session on Friday.

Before my T goes away, I’m hoping I can deal with my difficulties in using my journals. I find I cannot go near my journals at all right now. Fear mostly. Fear of exploring what I know is there, fear of facing “them”, fear of pain, fear of not handling it…

I really need to get past that before the therapy gap. Without my T, I need the outlet that writing brings me. I know I have here and believe me it helps a lot, particularly right now, but I censor what I post. I need somewhere to get it out where I do not have to censor at all.

 

So, I guess I am a little better than I have been. I’m containing what’s going on right now and PTSD symptoms are improved too. I am however, nervous about an upcoming (huge, mega, biggy of an) anniversary, stressed about house move stuff and frightened of what’s changing for me (see “battle”) right now.

 

I’ve tried hard this weekend, I accomplished a lot around the house yesterday, while fighting through waves of flashbacks. Today, I have been working on grounding much of the day, in the hopes that those flashbacks and memories will stay away for now.

I am so desperate to be on top of my symptoms and memories, I really, really need my therapy break to be as calm and relaxed as possible. I want to spend it getting my head around recent disclosures, not spending all my time grounding and counting the days until my T returns.

 

 

Rape and clothing- a link.

*Trigger Warning*

 

The link speaks for itself.

Sexual Assault Survivors Answer The Question “What Were You Wearing When You Were Assaulted?”

 

 

PJs, jeans, dress, skirt, school uniform, jogging trousers, nothing at all. It didn’t matter what I was wearing, I was raped anyway.

 

If you have been raped, please remember your clothing had no bearing over what was done to you. Rapists rape because they are rapists.

Battle

 

The monster in the shadows, is one I’ve known for years.

Lurking in my memories, he infiltrates my dreams.

And I cannot shake him, he still lives and he breathes

in the lasting darkness within me where my fears have not ceased.

I know of what he is capable, I don’t know how to rid myself of him

I am not sure that I am able, or that he will ever leave.

 

Now I am reuniting them both, together they will be one.

And already the darkness has company; my monster and my love.

Working together, they prepare for combat,

their reign of terror over me and I’m not ready for that attack.

Now I am facing both, surely, I do not have a chance?