Me. Too.

Oct. 15, 2017 7:30 p.m.

(Image credit: thehumanmagazine.org)

I've noticed the flood of “me too” posts on my Facebook today and it really had me feeling some type of way. Like, fucking WOW! Seriously? So many people have been effected. I am not alone. 

First off I felt really sad all day. It was gloomy so I decided to do what any obsessed dog loving fool would do. Go to the dog park. I thought it would make me feel better and cheer me up seeing some pups, but it really didn’t. 

 Life is ironic like that. In good company I've felt alone and sad all day but now sitting here alone in complete silence suddenly I don’t feel so alone. All because the mass amount of “me too” posts. It’s crazy to think, but just two little words have created a connection, a common denominator if you will. I’m just so glad to see people speaking up in order to positively ban together!

I’ve felt so many emotions come and go recently all at once or even all compiled into a huge ball of complete madness. Documenting my emotion is a whirl wind of mind fucks. I’m constantly analyzing myself and judging myself. Always apologizing and feeling at fault, guilty or in the wrong. I know I’m not the only one who is too hard on themselves. Nobody is perfect though.

Maybe I should just take a step back and breathe. Look around and smile at the faces that are also in pain. Compare stories and stop judging. Hug and love. Get back to the basics of human existence, companionship. Let’s just be. I want others to know that I stand with you in this and if anyone ever wants to talk I always have an open ear and purposeful hug available. Peace and love to each of you. Life gets hard no matter what, but never forget to love yourself.

Relentless Pain

Oct. 12, 2017 1 p.m.

Sometimes I awake to an overwhelming sadness. I aspire to wake up happy and not absolutely devastated and sad soon though. Apparently curling up in my bed and disappearing for a while isn’t actually an option; however, getting in my car and driving far away actually sounds amazing. If only running from my problems would stop the pain, I would.

Self-doubt is an understatement. I can’t even imagine getting through all the pain I still must endure to see an end in sight. My heart feels like it’s been ripped from my chest. Will I ever value my self-worth? Can I ever trust? I feel like I’m stuck in a sick, twisted, blatantly fucked up Groundhogs day. Like I’ll never move forward. Maybe I'm just a speck of dust stuck in a torturous moment of time. 

(Image credit: insiderfinancial.com)

As I lay in bed I contemplate going outside, but the sight of the sun makes me cringe. The air I breathe makes me cough. I’m suffocating in my own hell. What did I do to deserve this pain? Will it ever go away? I just want it to go away. Please go away. I didn’t want these things to happen to me. I was just a child. I still feel like I’m that baby being told I’m a bad girl. That it’s all my fault. Our secret. 

The tears on my cheeks feel like fire dripping down my soaked face. I try to wipe them away, but they relentlessly pour down with no end in sight. I try to be tough, but I can’t muster the courage to get out of this bed. Soon I’ll have to though. 

I’ll have to go pretend I’m the happy little spit fire I regularly act like. Fake it until you make it they say. Fuck them! Nobody knows my demons. No matter how much anyone thinks they know how I feel, they don’t. Betrayal is my middle name, along with sadness and guilt. I should wear “Lost Cause” as a name tag because that’s what I am.

Alarm sounds again. Again. Again. Again. To dissipate or descend? No way up or out it seems so I guess I’ll wipe my tears and pretend to pretend again.

Diagnosed

Sept. 6, 2017 7 p.m.

Today has been utterly draining and terrifying for me. It is the day I finally chose to seek psychological help. Diagnoses: PTSD, which if you don't know, is a "mental health problem that some people develop after experiencing or witnessing a life-threatening event, like combat, a natural disaster, a car accident, or sexual assault."

I am not making this post/blog for attention or sympathy, but to simply share my story and tell others that have been through the same experiences that YOU ARE NOT ALONE!!! As a child I was sexually abused numerous times which in turn has caused me to suppress these memories as an adult almost entirely... until now. I am currently on the pathway to recovery and working on mending the parts of me that were ripped away during my innocence. 

        (Image credit: fireemsleaderpro)

Abuse is something nobody should have to go through; however, if you or someone you know have experienced abuse, please don't feel ashamed because you are THE VICTIM and it is NOT your fault. I have lived with shame since I was a very young child and all that has done is make me an angry person. Today I vow to choose my own path, determine my own future and find the happiness I deserve by speaking MY TRUTH. 

If you or someone you know is living with PTSD and need someone to speak to please reach out. Post traumatic stress disorder is a serious mental illness that can control your entire life. Don't wait like I have, please get help. IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.IT IS NOT YOUR FAULT.... #ptsd #abuse #sexualabuse

Incomplete Thoughts

Oct 5, 2017 2 a.m.

 From the beginning of time I've thought that I was special. I never understood why I felt this way. Was it confidence or maybe lack of? Was I just self-absorbed or just feel like I had a purpose? To be honest I’m still confused with why I feel the way I do. Like I can feel people’s pain; look into their eyes and ease their troubles.

In counseling I’m beginning to see my own pain more clearly. Which is probably the reason I can spot others so easily. I’ve been filled with pain before I knew any other emotion. Sadness and confusion have now turned into emptiness and shame. Never knowing or feeling good enough. Always wondering why I deserve happiness. However, instead of helping others for now I’m deciding to take the selfish road and focus on my pain, my needs, my life.

Throughout this process I want to be as honest and straight forward with the memories and feelings I have surpassed, retained, and lingered everyday in the depths of my soul. Some things I remember may or may not be completely 100% and that is okay because what I recall is how it made me feel and has affected me as the woman I am today.

(Image Credit: Naukrinama)

At a very young age I discovered sex. I remember my parents having full out penetrative sex. I mean it wasn’t anything I would consider wild as an adult, but for a child it was horrific. I remember peaking from under my closed eyelids and wondering what they were doing. Was mom happy? Why was she screaming? Was dad hurting her? 

Now I can’t recall years or ages because I’ve suppressed everything for so many years, but in what I imagine now as maybe a couple of years later my parents split up. My dad had a bad drinking problem from what I know now, but definitely did not understand that at the time. So my mom up and left him. I remember us moving into another place not too terribly far away. 

I was sad we were leaving and really wanted to spend time with my dad. My sister, Chrystal who was adopted by my dad at a young age didn’t want to see him. She was a difficult teenager and my father and she did not agree on much. They use to scream at one another. I’m certain he got physical with her although I’m not positive I had witnessed it first hand. My brother T.J. was some sort of a momma’s boy as well so I always felt like my father and I had a special bond. Maybe too special. 

For the past year I had began to have very complex nightmares. Not the kind where you’re riding a rollercoaster and you fall out or some shit like that. Like surreal ideas that someone I thought would protect me and never harm me did just that. 

At first I remembered a blank face touching me and telling me that our secret is safe between us. That it was what people did and that if I said anything I would be in big trouble. In my dreams I could not picture this person. I could only hear their words yet not their voice. I sometimes would feel their breath on me and I would awake soaked in sweat and shivering. Some days I would awake to my hand in my soaked panties.  

 (Image credit: Sott.net)

I’d never understood why I would play with myself before now. I thought I was fucked up and maybe had like sexsomnia or was just a sex addict although I didn’t show signs of being a porn addict or frequent sex with strangers or anything radical. 

Not only had someone hurt me when I was in my early childhood, but again in my early adolescence. My neighbor and best friends older brother took advantage of me when I would stay the night. This was when I first discovered paralysis. He would prey on me while I was asleep. I would awake to his hands in my pants and him poking and prodding at me. I remember trying to tell him to stop. Trying to turn away or get up and run. Scream. Anything. But nothing would ever come out. I always felt that by not defending myself it allowed him to take advantage of me and that it was my fault that he hurt me. I recall trying to scream so loud that little muffled cries came out and I opened my eyes as big as I could. Tears ran down my face. He noticed that time. He stopped. He ran behind a door and didn’t move. I felt stupid. Had I imagined that he was doing that to me?

I finally gained the courage to tell, but felt so ashamed that I couldn’t reach out to my own parents. I was close with the boys family and so I told his mom. She turned away immediately. I knew she didn’t believe me, but I felt so strong for finally mustering up the courage to spill the beans. So I decided to tell my own mom. I don’t recall how either of my parents reacted. I remember them speaking with said boys parents and them deciding he would be punished by strenuous farm chores for the summer.

Since when is sexually assaulting someone punishable by chores? As an adult I’m so disgusted by his ‘sentence’ that anytime I see his face on social media or read his first or last name anywhere I cringe. I cringe because he is a perpetrator. He left me feeling helpless, alone, sad, hurt, confused, disgusted and most of all victimized. I was the victim of his actions. I still feel shame because of his actions. I did not give the okay for him to touch my body. I am the victim. I am the victim. I AM THE VICTIM!

Dig

Oct 11, 2017 1 p.m.

As many of you know, I was diagnosed with PTSD on 9.6.17. I had never openly spoke with anyone about the nightmares that regularly commenced related to my childhood and how much trauma I had experienced at a very young age. However, yesterday I opened up to some people that I trusted and many of the things I had to say were validated. I can’t believe an entire family can ignore or physically not see the pain and hell I lived in as a child. I’m sure on the surface I seemed just as happy as any other kid, but I wasn’t. I was screaming inside although I never cried out. I was confused and felt alone. I thought things were my fault and that I was a bad girl for letting someone do those things to me. I shut out the tragedies and relished in the good-times for so long that I had almost permanently erased the doom that once consumed my soul.

(Image credit: brightnest.com)

When I opened up to a particular person I trusted, he proceeded to ask me why I would want to dig up all this stuff and to be honest I was taken back by this question. I’m not “digging up the past,” I’m putting myself back together. I have been haunted and scarred by the memories buried deep inside my mind. I have been in literal HELL due to the selfish decisions made by someone else. I did not choose for these things to happen to me and I damn sure didn’t deserve to have my innocence STOLEN from me as a preschooler. At age 3 we do not retain memories so all I have been focused on is trying to piece together a sea of puzzle pieces resembling a black hole. Each piece precisely fitting— one by one. 

As the picture is completed I am recalling other things. Horrible thoughts that happened to me and that I saw happen around me. I can remember smells, touches, images, emotional feelings of pain and sadness; basically a gust of unimaginable wind from hell has over taken my life 20+ years later. As much as a I try to see clearly I’m faced with constant debris.  

So i’ve began to research a lot about physical, mental and sexual abuse and thought I would fill you guys in on a little. 

(Image credit: whisnews21.com)

Did you know…..

20% of children who are sexually abused are abused before the age of 8? 

Use of alcohol/drugs at an early age can be a sign of trauma such as child sexual abuse?

One in 10 children will be sexually abused before age 18?

90% of child sexual abuse victims KNOW THEIR ABUSER? (d2l.org)

63% of women who had suffered sexual abuse by a family member also reported a rape or attempted rape after the age of 14?

A child who is the victim of prolonged sexual abuse usually develops low self-esteem, a feeling of worthlessness and an abnormal or distorted view of sex making them become withdrawn and mistrustful of adults, and can even become suicidal?

Child sexual abuse is not solely restricted to physical contact; such abuse could include non contact abuse, such as exposure, voyeurism, and child pornography? (victimsofcrime.org)

As an adult SURVIVOR of sexual abuse one can experience…

Guilt, shame, and blame.

Intimacy and relationship issues.

Self-esteem concerns directly related to relationships, career and even personal health.

So before you question someones intent on whether they should “dig up” old shit, realize that this isn’t just an old issue to us. This has slowly shaped us into the adult we are, yet we are not subject to let this awful past continue to effect our future. I deserve to be a better me and the same goes for other survivors of childhood sexual abuse. I’m taking a stand! Ready or not here I come.