I put aside this time to write a little in my journal to prepare for my therapy session tomorrow. My husband is out buying food for a Thanksgiving meal (we will be having a day late) and my children are asleep. I can’t bring myself to open my journal again though. I wrote a lot in it early this morning and after wrestling with myself, I posted one (“Ashamed”). I just can’t seem to go back in that journal right now.
I am feeling pretty bad, but that seems to be the norm at the moment. I’ve been dissociating a lot today and right now I am just full of anger. I’m angry that I’m so ashamed of myself, I’m angry that “he” made me feel that way. I’m angry that I have to feel any of this stuff, I am angry that it was done to me in the first place. I’m so angry. I really, really hate that I was a victim of that abuse, which I am sure is quite a normal feeling. I hate that people know.. yet it’s a relief at the same time. It gets so tiring hiding it, but the point is, I’m angry that anyone has to know. I’m angry that “he” did it, I am angry that talking about it is the only way through.
Sometimes I feel so vulnerable and exposed. I am so private, maybe because of the abuse, or perhaps it’s just who I am.. and so while I’m glad it’s out in the open, it makes me uncomfortable. I was groomed into keeping quiet out of shame. I believed what I was doing (being made to do) was wrong and dirty and that it needed to remain a secret. I believed no one would love me, or could ever love me if they knew the truth. Those feelings have come with me into adulthood and they remain now.
Each time I tell what he did, I am rewarded with a high of taking control, but I’m also fighting shame and that voice telling me I need to stop. Telling helps, but I am so very ashamed of what “he” did- I cannot help it. I was raped and in love with my rapist and that causes a huge amount of shame. I had to take part in vile and lewd acts, I had to say awful things and pretend it was real for me. I won’t go into detail, it’s not what this blog is about, but it was truly sick. I cannot help the shame.
I do know he groomed me to love him and I know he was at fault. I know it’s not my fault, I know the shame belongs to him. I also fully believe that victims of rape have nothing at all to be ashamed of, yet that shame remains.
This is really hard.