Some thoughts

I wish they would try to understand. I wish they had the capacity to comprehend.

I’m not asking them to know my agony. I’m not asking them to change their lives.

But where is the compassion?

Why are they so thoughtless, when they have been told so many times?

When I am trying hard not to remember, why do they strive to remind me?

 

A good day, and I’m feeling better, only for them to hurt me once again.

Not out of malice, I do not think.

Does that mean I should not be angry?

Well, I am. I am raging now.

 

Why am I never first?  Why do I not matter?

I worry endlessly about other people.

I question my thoughts and feelings and those things I have or perhaps should have said.

I never want to inflict hurt on another. Ever.

Is it so wrong, to want some of that back?

Am I over sensitive perhaps?

 

 

A rare good day that has now turned bad.

Perhaps that is my fault too?

Yet, I find myself blaming her instead.

That poor child.

The one who was forgotten. The one who was left.

Forever hated. Forever alone.

Forced to choose a half life, or face certain death.

And what am I doing? The same as them, surely?

Or maybe I am much worse.

Because I am sure that I hate her most.

Much more than they ever could.

 

Can they see she still lives within me?

Maybe that is why they hurt me so.

 

 

 

 

Suvivor’s Guilt

Apparently this is common in people who have experienced traumatic events. I have certainly heard of it in relation to soldiers who have survived war when their comrades did not. Yet it seems less talked about in survivors of rape and abuse. I cannot be the only one to experience this in some form, even if the reasons behind it differ?

Rape and abuse survivors experience so much guilt, it seems to be something almost all survivors have or will go through. Guilt that we didn’t fight back, or didn’t make it clear that it was unwanted, guilt over what we said, or did, where it happened and who was involved, etc. We certainly don’t need any other sources of guilt to contend with.

I no longer struggle with the guilt in the way I used to, at least not with the aspects of abuse we have and are discussing  in therapy right now, but survivor’s guilt- if that is the most appropriate term, is something I continue to struggle with.

Today, for example, it hit pretty hard. I was overcome with emotion after observing and feeling the pain of another survivor. I left the room to cry for her- tears for her came so easily.

I see her daily, but today her suffering was more evident than ever. Without going into specifics (because her story is not mine to tell) she needs money, that she just doesn’t have and is unlikely to have in the near future.

Watching her today left me feeling utterly ashamed of myself and twisted up inside with guilt. I wanted to help her, to give her the money she needs, to be there for her, to do something- anything.

Why? I feel guilty that I am OK, that I can afford therapy, that I can afford to buy what I need (within reason) to make things better for me. I feel guilty that I have moved forward and away from my abuser and I am getting further from the grips of his grooming and control every single day.

I was ashamed of myself today too and I am not even sure why- as part of the guilt perhaps?

 

These are not new feelings, so often lately I feel responsible for other survivors. I want to help, I want them to experience healing, I want them to be safe. Perhaps it doesn’t make sense- but I feel guilty for being safe, I feel guilty for healing. While at the same time I know being in danger, or by remaining unwell, I cannot possibly help anyone else.

I know the rational arguments, I know what I should feel and why- yet this survivor’s guilt, remains. I know I deserve to heal, I know that I cannot help anyone if I do not help myself first, I know I did not abuse her or anyone else and cause suffering. I do not control the actions of others. Yet, I cannot help but feel responsible and guilty. Am I alone with this?

 

Grooming, Attachment, Anger.

 

My head may explode, this week was supposed to be calmer. Work was nuts, house purchase is all systems go, children are driving me nuts, to do list is getting longer. I just wanna sit on my couch and hide from it all.

Tomorrow is therapy day, I’m looking forward to it this week, I’m desperately trying to keep a lid on my feelings. I am hoping I can release them a little with my T.

 

I have been reading up on grooming again, I find it is a need right now. While this was something I started to face and come to terms with last year, I know I am not there yet and my most recent therapy session has thrown it up again for me.

I have been reading some of the NAPAC (National Association for People Abused in Childhood) website, have you been there? I never really thought I belonged there. I don’t consider myself as someone who was a victim of child abuse. I was a teen. I hear child, I think pre pubescent. Am I the victim of child abuse?

Either way, a lot of the stuff on the website really resonates with me. Particularly as I am dealing with mixed feelings towards my abuser. It seems to be common/ normal/ expected. The  feelings I have right now, aren’t about now, they are 14 year old feelings, but they leave me confused and conflicted. It helps to know I am not alone.

 

I have known all along, that I had feelings of love for my abuser. Even though that love was out of manipulation and grooming, the way I felt was real. But following my recent therapy session, I now realise how much deeper it went.

I  think I formed a bond/an attachment to my abuser. I needed him, I really, needed him.  And as I faced his betrayal with my T on Friday, I was devastated.

How the hell am I supposed to feel about that? Sick, for one. Guilty too. I read that the bond/ attachment is normal. Yet I feel anything but normal. How could I have needed him and loved him so very much, when he hurt me in ways I didn’t believe were possible? What does that make me?

 

I know, I know- he caused that, he groomed me into needing him. He worked hard to sever my bonds with anyone else, he was cunning in isolating me from anyone and everyone else. I was so young, I needed someone. He was the only someone left. I know I am looking at it with hindsight. But I don’t know how not to blame myself.  Perhaps, because it’s easier to deal with that way? Easier than the reality? Or perhaps it’s because he ground me down so much, I still struggle with finding self worth.

Either way, it adds to my anger. The anger that I ever felt that way, the anger that I feel this way now and the anger that exists to hold down the growing pain.

It was supposed to be easier and better this week. Where’s my break? When will it end? I swear, I’m not far from my knees here.

 

 

 

My fault? (That damn question again)

Is it my fault?

That is a question I’ve been asking myself often, for a very long time.

As therapy has progressed and I have moved forward, that question has continued to bother me from time time.

Each time there’s a new memory revealed, I find myself asking that question again. “Is it my fault?”.

Sometimes the weight behind it, is not what it was. I know the truth, intellectually at least. I know what my T would say, the argument against, the rationale.. however, the question continues to bother me, time and time again.

 

A new disclosure on Friday and it was horrible. It seems to get harder as I move forward. I feel more than ever before. I’m not simply telling a story- emotionally detached from the reality- I feel it now, every word I say. It was  incredibly painful.

I couldn’t tell my T everything, it was too much to deal with in one session. I was in danger of reliving what I went through, so I purposefully left some of it for another time.

One of those things I left out is really bothering me (and I’m angry that it is already bothering me, can’t I get a break??). Among other things, it is leading me to that question again- Is it my fault?”.

I cannot really explain here because that would lead me to feeling exposed and vulnerable again and I’ve felt that enough the last few days. I do not wish to share the details of my abuse here, certainly not right now.

But I cannot shake it- is it my fault at least in some way? My own actions, participation- it’s not as simple as that I know.  When is choice, not really choice? Willingness, not really willing?

I know I was groomed, trapped, coerced and forced. I often did what I had to just to survive. I don’t mean I believed I’d be killed if I didn’t, but it was  for my own emotional survival. I did what I had to for my own sanity.

I guess I find the need to justify myself, I find myself trying to remember what my T has said when I have previously shared my feelings of guilt and fault. I need that reassurance right now. Because I cannot get out of my head that at least some of that particular day, was down to me-my fault.

I so don’t need this right now, I’m still trying to recover from my therapy session on Friday.

Dark heart?

 

Have you ever seen the TV series “Once Upon a Time”? You should, it’s good 🙂

Throughout the series the “Evil Queen”, or the “Evil One”, rip out the hearts of others. The hearts are red and glowing. It’s not as gruesome as it sounds, it’s very fairy tale like, which I guess is what they are going for. The Evil Queen, Regina has her own heart ripped out on one episode and observes how blackened it is from all the evil she has bestowed on others.During another episode, Snow White has her heart pulled from her and is shocked to see that it too has started to blacken from an evil deed she did.

This  part of the show has really resonated with me, particularly right now with what I’ve been dealing with in therapy.  I have been carrying a massive amount of guilt and self hatred since I was 16 years old. I have blamed myself for what my friend went through, I’ve been deeply ashamed and battled with myself  since that day. I felt as if it were a huge dark secret that I had to keep to myself, the longer I kept it inside, the bigger it became. I hid myself away, I didn’t allow myself to ever get close to another friend like that again. I feared I was the cause of pain and destruction, I suppose I felt cursed. I fully believed that a part of me was dark, that in some sense my heart was “blackened” too and the longer I kept the secret, the more the darkness spread.

When I first began to confront those feelings, it felt as if that “blackness” had taken hold. As I told what went on that day, I hated myself, I felt like I had given myself over to evil. Dramatic, perhaps, but I was deeply upset and incredibly angry with myself and what I believed I had put my friend through.

In a small amount of time, that has changed and continues to change. I do not believe I am evil, I do not hate myself and though I still carry deep regret and guilt, I know on some level at least, that it was not my fault.

My heart is not dark and it never was. What I was consumed with, though poisonous, was never mine to begin with. I look forward to feeling well enough to knowing the relief of no longer feeling cursed, no longer feeling evil and no longer hating myself. I look forward to beginning to love myself and I look forward to truly feeling worthy of love from others too.

 

Sacrifice?

You were in my dreams again and it was like it used to be. You and me, joined at the hip again. I loved you so much, I know that now, I loved enough to sacrifice.

And sacrifice I did for you, I did everything I could. I held your hand, I cleaned you up, I brushed your hair and gently hushed your distress and I got us out of there. I was determined and viscous in my conviction to ensure you would never suffer my fate again. I found my voice and I stood up to them and you were safe once more.

Dare I believe that it wasn’t my fault? When I have carried this for years? Perhaps I fear an empty space where my self hatred has made it’s nest, weighted but settled in my soul. Will I be empty without my guilt, or will it be replaced with pain? A pain I hate, a pain I don’t want, but a pain that represents the truth?

Horrible week

Wow, what a horrible week. I keep waiting for it to get better. Last therapy session was so very hard, my T was great as always, but it was really scary. I feel beaten up, I feel bruised inside and out. I don’t want to write about the session or how I feel, I feel too much. I don’t like the way I feel, I don’t want to address it, I don’t want to feel it, nor do I want it to go, because it feels deserved some how.

Some of the added stress this week (that I won’t got into) is probably my fault, I am not doing myself any favours. Last night I was awake in the night, I felt so overwhelmed and stressed, as usual, I struggled to get my thoughts to settle. I could see flashes of light, over and over and hear voices, my mind felt crowded and chaotic. I recognise that I am extremely stressed but I can’t seem to help myself out of it.  

My lovely husband has insisted I sit and relax this evening. I am trying to do as he has said while he’s busy doing everything that needs doing. I can’t concentrate on TV, reading has been out for months now (PTSD affects my ability to concentrate, reading particularly, I struggle with very short term memory loss when reading), I have a few other things I could try, but it seems too much effort. So I find myself on here, blogging, I am not even sure why. Is this helping? The poetry stuff helps for sure, but do the general moans/ updates? Perhaps. I think it helps to know people are reading. It helps to still log how I feel when I just cannot face using my journals and the thoughts that come out in those. 

I feel crappy, I’m fed up, agitated and full of self blame and guilt and I’ve had enough. But what choice is there, what is the alternative? I guess when things are this bad, the only way is up, right?