The end. And still we will rise (saying goodbye).

I have been blogging considerably less lately.

There are a number reasons for this. Partly, it is simply that I longer need to share in the way I have done previously and more importantly because I am finding that I do not need validation from the world any more. If I cannot find it in myself, I look to my T, my minister or my husband instead.

The main reason for the lack of posting, is because I am finding sharing here has become more difficult. I am left with a bad taste each and every time lately. There has been so much fear, paranoia and resentment.

I am not sure when it changed, but lately I find myself wanting to keep my memories and my pain, close to me. Don’t misunderstand, it’s not about holding it inside, it’s not about keeping secrets. In fact it’s probably the exact opposite. I do not need to blog, to try to feel what is going on inside of me. Feeling, is becoming more natural. I am becoming more comfortable in feeling whatever it is that I am feeling.

Somewhere in there it is also about self preservation I guess. I do not want to be hurt. I do not want to be judged or rejected, and that is more important than ever before. I may be more robust than before, but I am no longer willing to allow others to hurt me.

Furthermore, I do not believe everyone needs to know what I went through. Not because this is something that should be kept private, or something to be ashamed of (though that’s a whole other issue), but it is more, I don’t think everyone deserves to share my pain. Not everyone deserves to know my memories and most importantly, my progress.

I had decided to move my blog, perhaps make it more private, but I find myself reconsidering. While there are still times, I crave sharing what is going on with me, I am not sure I want to do that here, any longer.

This is mine. My pain, my memories. Mine. I am the one who went through it, I am the one who is still living with it. I am the one who survived it and I am the one who is giving everything I have, in order to make a life beyond it.

Those individuals who have been bravely listening to the details of what I endured.. they are the ones who have earned the right to know my pain. The handful of people who have been there every step of the way, validating and supporting me, are the ones who have earned the privilege of watching me grow.

So, exactly two years to the day this blog began, is this now the end? I think so. I am done sharing my memories here and I am done sharing my pain.

It has been instrumental in my healing, but it is no longer. And so I must bring it to an end and say goodbye. So thank you.. for reading and supporting me. Thank you for sharing your own experiences – you know who you are.

 

 

In some very dark moments, finding fellow survivors here was life saving.  It is a club, no one ever wants to be part of, but I have found and continue to find comfort in knowing that as a survivor, I will never, ever be alone. There is a bond between us and though men may have created it, it is something they cannot take away. One day I hope it will end and we will finally be equal in this world..until then take comfort in knowing we are never alone.. Until then, we rise.

 

 

 

You may write me down in history
With your bitter, twisted lies,
You may tread me in the very dirt
But still, like dust, I’ll rise.

Does my sassiness upset you?
Why are you beset with gloom?
‘Cause I walk like I’ve got oil wells
Pumping in my living room.

Just like moons and like suns,
With the certainty of tides,
Just like hopes springing high,
Still I’ll rise.

Did you want to see me broken?
Bowed head and lowered eyes?
Shoulders falling down like teardrops.
Weakened by my soulful cries.

Does my haughtiness offend you?
Don’t you take it awful hard
‘Cause I laugh like I’ve got gold mines
Diggin’ in my own back yard.

You may shoot me with your words,
You may cut me with your eyes,
You may kill me with your hatefulness,
But still, like air, I’ll rise.

Does my sexiness upset you?
Does it come as a surprise
That I dance like I’ve got diamonds
At the meeting of my thighs?

Out of the huts of history’s shame
I rise
Up from a past that’s rooted in pain
I rise
I’m a black ocean, leaping and wide,
Welling and swelling I bear in the tide.
Leaving behind nights of terror and fear
I rise
Into a daybreak that’s wondrously clear
I rise
Bringing the gifts that my ancestors gave,
I am the dream and the hope of the slave.
I rise
I rise
I rise.

Maya Angelou

 

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I’m alive.

Some big news, I just need to share……

I am a real, live, feeling person. Did you know?

I am not so sure I did before now.

All this time, there was someone real underneath all this show, pretense and trauma. Someone with thoughts, wants, needs and desires. And passion. So, much passion for life. Oh my word, I feel so alive.

I find myself wondering if other people see and feel what I do. Is this how everyone feels? If so, why aren’t you weeping all the time- whether with joy or pain? How on earth do you stay so calm and controlled? I feel like a toddler, discovering the world.

Everything is so much clearer. Beauty. And pain. All of it seems so much more vibrant than ever before.

Do you see it? The life? The peace? The freedom?

It’s so damn close, I can taste it and damn, is it so sweet… even the grief, even the pain. All of it.

* Trigger Warning*

 

In some ways, I’m in hell. The memories I am containing right now- hell. The body memories causing surging pain through my jaw right now- hell. I’m containing, suppressing. But it seems, even those things now make me feel alive.

My eyes are opening.. I see what is all around me as clearly as I am beginning to see what was back then. You see, I’m disclosing the worst bits to my T now. Yes the worst. The intimate details.. where I have to tell him the specific ways in which I was hurt, how it felt, what I smelt, how my body reacted, the things I had to do, the things I had to say.. things I have patchy memories of due to the level of trauma. In order to do this, I have to step back into the room in which I was hurt so many times. It began last week and so far, I’ve had to dissociate to disclose, but I’m getting closer, closer to feeling it too and God, that is where the freedom lies. The beginning at least. I’m sure of that.

Because that’s the key.. the very secrets I was certain I’d take to my grave…are my way out from under him, where if I’m honest, despite all my efforts, a part of me has remained.

Don’t get me wrong, it’s fucking torture, yet I have to do it, because I know it is the only way to face who I used to be. And it is the only place I can face him. Only in that room, only by freeing myself from these secrets, can I truly see him for who he is and what  he did to me. This is beyond what he took from my body, instead it is what he tried to take from my heart and soul. It is where I find me.. and I know because it’s already happening. I am already doing it. This is where I take back control.

He told me no one would believe me, he told me my only worth was my body, he told me I was just a set of holes to be used. He told me it was all my fault. He told me I was dirty, over and over and over again.

He called me sexy, and he called me ugly. He called me slut. He called me slag and filthy whore. And worst of all, he called me his…which is why I’ve got to keep doing this, it is why I have to tell every sickening detail. I am not his, I will not be his, we will not share these secrets together. This is the only way I can be free. I am not those things and one day soon, I’m going to know that within my heart too. I’m going to win.. did you know? I am not sure I did.

I’m going to win, I’m going to be in control and I’m going to be free!