Remembering those lost babies

A blog called Remembering Their Names about the children that died in the mass school shooting. I don't ever want to forget who they were.

Click here

Writing exercise #6

Contradicting Myself and Fighting The Rationalizations~

(the voice that battles me in my head between rational thinking and irrational thinking)

You know you wanted it.
I told him I didn’t want it. He didn’t listen.  None of them listened...

I went to him even when he didn't ask. I am at fault.
 I loved him and believed him when he said he wouldn’t do it again. I didn’t know it was abuse.

I'm just over-reacting and being emotional.
He raped me. For years. I have every right to react this way

 If he’d sexually assaulted you, I think you’d know for sure what happened, not suddenly “figure it out” years later.
If I hadn’t been sexually assaulted, I wouldn’t be wondering about whether or not I’d been sexually assaulted. The thought wouldn’t even cross my mind.


He didn’t mean to hurt me. He was trying to love me, maybe he just didn't know how.
That’s not love, that’s abuse. I am not/was not responsible for showing him how to love properly. I was a child.

He didn't always hit me. Or always threaten my life. Stop whining and complaining. There are women out there who have *really* been abused.
 He threatened my emotional life. He bruised my faith. He punched my feelings of worth and shoved around my sense of self. All of that is STILL abuse.

He didn't mean to hurt me. He loved me.
It doesn't matter if he meant to or not, the truth remains that he DID hurt me.  You do not rape and beat someone that you love.

I still care about him. How sick and messed up can I be?
He is family, and it's okay to still care about him. Abuse involving family members is very complicated and it's natural to have confused and conflicted feelings.

Most of the time I didn't say no or fight him, that's like telling him it was okay.
I was only a child and he was manipulating me. I was confused and didn't know how to say no to him.

I must have wanted it. If I hadn't led him on, he wouldn't have done anything. I was a tease even at 4.
No matter what I did, he should never have acted on it. Even if I tried to do a strip tease, He was not supposed to act on it with his daughter. The fact that he did it is wrong, and I never wanted it. I wasn't capable of wanting it. I was a child.

I didn't tell on him. How can I be mad now?
He told me not to tell on him, or it would be all my fault that the family was split up. He manipulated my emotions. And on top of that, he was my daddy.  You are supposed to obey your father and trust that he wouldn't lie to you or do bad things.

Other people have been through worse. It could have been worse. So it's not really a big deal.
It was bad enough. I am entitled to feel violated. Trauma is trauma - pain is not a competition. 

I can't remember everything that happened, so I must be making things up as I go.
I dissociated as a survival mechanism. Just because I can't remember, doesn't mean that it didn't happen. Just because the details are fuzzy doesn't mean that it's not true.

I should be over this by now.
There is no time limit on healing.

I must just be doing this for the attention.
If I wanted attention I would be telling everyone. I can barely talk about this.

I made him angry
So what? It doesn't make what he did okay

I am just imagining it.
I remember what he felt like when he touched me or made me touch him. I can still feel the weight of his heavy body on my child sized one. I can still smell his breath. I can still feel the ropes that bound my wrist. I can’t be making those feelings up.

Writing Exercise: Name something that you are proud of today

Writing Exercise: Name something that you are proud of today 

 

Today when my sister found out that I reported my father to the police she texted me, demanding I talk to her. Today I am proud because the old me would have stepped outside at work and done this. But the new me told her that she doesn't get to tell me when I discuss this. This is my story and no one gets to tell me when I have to speak of it. I am proud of myself for not giving in and for sticking up for myself. I am stronger then I know sometimes.

Survivor Bill Of Rights: Writing Exercise~

Many survivors struggle with feelings of powerlessness in the aftermath of sexual abuse or sexual assault and find it very difficult to gain control of their lives and their healing as a result. Other survivors may feel guilt or shame for demanding their rights be acknowledged because they feel unworthy. This exercise is an opportunity for you to create your own personal Bill of Rights in a safe place, where you can work on asking for what you need from others and from yourself and can give yourself the respect you deserve. Created from Pandy's


I have the right to set healthy boundaries without judgement or persecution.
I have the right to treat my body in a loving way.
I have the right to live in peace and grow in my relationship with God
I have the right to say "no" to things that I do not want
I have the right to be around people who are positive and encouraging
I have the right to get rid of people in my life that bring me down
I have the right to move forward and live a life that I was destined to live
I have the right to be heard
I have the right to speak freely
I have the right to sing and dance and wear a tutu when ever I please
I have the right to love and be loved I have the right to protect myself
I have the right to feel good about the person I am
I  have the right to take time out for myself when I need to without feeling guilty.
I have the right to heal on my own time, not on a set schedule.
I have the right to want to cry.
I have the right to be angry.
I have the right to hate them forever for what they did to me.
I have the rights to the treatment of my own body.
I have a right to be who I am
I have a right to my personal space
I have the right to remember what happened
I have the right to be in control and make my own decisions
I have the right to feel safe
I have the right to do what I need to do to feel safe.
I have the right to want a female doctor and not be questioned about it.
I have the right to be afraid of something without anyone questioning my fears.
I have the right not to know exactly what my feelings are all the time
I have a right not to always accept other peoples ideas and opinions
I have a right to my OWN ideas and opinions
I have the right to share only what I wish about my abuse
I have the right be happy and live

Rape Defined

Rape is like being ice cold and burned to the hottest degree all at the same time. Its like being a glass vase dropped from the ledge of the tallest building, scattering to a million pieces. Rape to me is like screaming out as loud as you can while also falling completely mute in the same moment. Its as if I can feel my father, those men, all of them reach into my soul and rip out everything that held me together. They disconnected all of my connections. I became disconnected from life, love, and from existing. Rape connected me to new things. It taught me to live in fear. Rape taught me to blame myself. And to never to trust. To always question the motives of every man because, men always have expectations. Rape taught me that my value was worthy only in a bedroom, on my back.

Rape told me I was unworthy of love in the eyes of my god because of the dirtiness I feel. Rape took my tears and held them hostage, telling me that I wanted it, telling me I had no reason to weep. When I wished to speak of it, rape bound the skin on my lips. Sealing them like glue to keep the secrets intact. Rape taught me that I am a toy to be played with by men and that my duty on this earth is to supply their demand. And supply I did because rape taught me that it wasn't rape. Rape made me believe this happened in every household.

 Rape made me grow up, far to fast, and in much to painful of a way. Rape tried to get me to believe that my body was meant to be hurt, used and betrayed, that this is what It I was made for. Rape taught me to despise my skin and this body that my soul inhabits. So I sought to destroy it. Rape is responsible for so much and yet there is still more that can not be explained in words. Feelings without names, sensations with out cause, pain with out injury, the things the haunt me. Mere words can not explain the extent of damage of which rape has caused. The damage I wear as an oversized crown on my head. Hanging in front of my face and obstructing my vision. Causing me to trip and lose my balance as I walk this road through life.

Rape violently took away a parent, yet more then that it took away experiences I never got to have. A relationship that would never thrive. Daddy was responsible for all of this torment. Yet I loved him inspite of it. I searched high and low, near and far to find the love I was meant to have from him. But all I found was this twisted kind. Still I accepted it because, it was all I had.

Today the memory of rape still hurts like a punch in the chest, only now its a softer blow. Today I have glued back together my scattered pieces and yes maybe I am cracked and yes maybe some of the pieces will forever be missing but I have found enough to make me whole again. My screams are no longer muted. I found my voice. A voice I always had except today I found the courage to use it. Today I blame him and find my worth in this world through my own thoughts and  actions and not the actions of another. Today I am reconnected and finding my place in this world. Today this pain can no longer restrain my life like those ropes that bound my wrists. I can heal, I can grow.

My Prayer

God please help me. I come to you because I no longer feel deserving of your love. I am dirty and I know that you can not accept me. I am used up like trash and there is nothing left of myself to offer to you. The smell of all those men reeks on my flesh, hot showers do not remove the stench. I feel forever tainted and unworthy of your guidance and love. I am as a phony in your house. I should not have come to your place of worship. I feel like an outsider there not deserving of the information that so many others take for granted. I am sorry that I am unholy, that I am the sin of this earth. The filth of my hands should not grip your bibles. My mind is destroyed with the images that play in it, I can no longer absorb your truths. Please god forgive my unrighteousness.

AMEN



I wrote that recently and everyone can tell me a million times that I am not the one who is dirty. But I can't help how I feel. In time I hope to move past this. But with new memories resurfacing and showing me the bitter truth of how bad things truly got I can not go to god in this moment. I will keep my distance for awhile. I'm sure when I am ready he will be there waiting for me.

EMDR

Eye movement desensitization and reprocessing (EMDR) is a proprietary^, psychotherapy in which the patient recalls a traumatic event while simultaneously undergoing bilateral stimulation that can consist of moving the eyes from side to side, vibrations or tapping movements on different sides of the body, or tones delivered through one ear, then the other, via headphones. The technique was developed by Francine Shapiro to resolve the development of trauma-related disorders caused by exposure to distressing, traumatising, or negative life events, such as rape or military combat. According to Shapiro's theory,when a traumatic or distressing experience occurs, it may overwhelm usual cognitive and neurological coping mechanisms. The memory and associated stimuli of the event are inadequately processed, and are dysfunctionally stored in an isolated memory network. The goal of EMDR therapy is to process these distressing memories, reducing their lingering influence and allowing clients to develop more adaptive coping mechanisms.
Although some clinicians may use EMDR for other problems, its research development was primarily for disorders stemming from distressing life experiences, such as post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD)^[8][9]. EMDR was found to be an efficacious treatment for PTSD.



^{Thursday I saw a new therapist to perform this on me. Mine isn't qualified to do it. So i was scared to have to work with a second new person and to have to retell her my story quickly. I've been seeing my other counselor since February so for 10 months she has slowly gotten to hear my story. Now there's this new person that wants to know about me but we don't get 10 months. It was very exhausting telling her all of these things. But i told her and then we started on the actual EMDR. She explained every-thing she was going to do then would do it and ask me what my experience was. At first I told her it wasn't working. It felt stupid. Her waving her hands in front of my face. How was that going to do anything? Then out of no where I broke down crying and the memory we were working on was one of the mildest. One about my mom. I felt like my brain was broken for two days. If that is my reaction to the mildest memory what will happen to me when we work on the worst memories? I hope this actually helps and doesn't just make things worse.}

Homework From Therapy

Things that have changed since I started therapy/support group.

* Less nightmares
* Less panic attacks
* Less flashbacks
* Less repressed memories coming out
* I stopped sleeping in the closet every night
* I can sleep more/easier at night
* I have cried in front of people
* I stopped eating my feelings
* No more trying to hurt myself
* I can look at myself in the mirror
* I started drawing again
* I can write about what happened in detail
* I can talk about what happened in detail
* I can talk about what happened in detail to a room full of people in support group
* I can identify some feelings now
* I am strong enough to do EMDR
* I was strong enough to go to the police and make a report
* I am not as afraid to talk to men
* I use coping skills(tho i need to work harder at this)
* I stand up for myself
* I can get mad about what happened

How Can This Feel So Real?

My wrists hurt, my hands are numb
I look down reaching for my suffering
I examine, looking at each carefully
Feeling it's pain with my other hand
I search for the ropes that tie them
Nothing exists
The skin tingles and pulsates beneath my fingertips
How can this feel so real?

Screaming and choking
I search my neck
Pulling  and tugging at it
I need to release his hands that are killing me
I search
Nothing exists
His grip so tight around me..
How can this feel so real?

I lay curled up on the floor, gasping for air
Crying uncontrollably, unable to move
I am being torn in two
Its an invisible rape.
I am alone, I am safe
Yet...i feel so small and defenseless
His weight crushes me, I cant breath
He isn't here
He doesn't exist anymore
My body is shattered into a million pieces
How can this feel so real?


I lay motionless
The world spins around me.
I am dead now
There is no pain where the dead reside.
There they have butterflies, rainbows and laughter.
I want to join them. I run to the dead ones.
They welcome me with open arms
I let go
This doesn't exist
My body is not ruined and broken anymore

I wake up

I ran away today..

Three days of body memories, flashbacks, and crying on the floor in a ball. I couldn't take it anymore so I ditched work at noon and ran to a friend. Another survivor (the one who did my tattoo) who understands. We spent the day cooking and dancing to oldies. It went from being the worse day to one of the best. I am so happy that i have such amazing and supportive people in my life. I wouldn't be where I am without them.
And most of my body memories went away while I was there. Tho their coming back now, I know I can handle it because I'm stronger then these memories. My wrists may hurt and my hands may be numb but no rope binds them anymore. I just have to keep telling myself that. That rope was there a long time ago. Now I'm free and these feelings are in my head. I will get through this. I will get through this.

When my tattoo was new

When i look down at my wrist I have hope. It reminds me where I've come from and how hard I fought to get where I am today. Its about this POEM but I'm not asking for these things to change anymore. I have the power and control. This is my life now. Not his.

Triggered

Can't stop crying, everything hurts. It feels like there's a boulder on my chest. Its too painful inside my head right now i need to run away.

Writing Exercise: Name something that you are proud of today

Today I looked down at my leg and saw my burn scar that is usually hidden and got reminded of the abuse and got very triggered. I am proud because instead of keeping my triggers to myself and hiding my emotions and feelings I reached out to a friend for help. A few months ago I might not have done that. I am proud that I can see my growth and progress in small everyday things.

Writing Exercise: 101 Things I wouldn't change about myself

Part one:
1. I wouldn't change my religion and faith
2. I wouldn't change my ability to care for others so much
3. I wouldn't change my curiosity for the world around me
4. I wouldn't change my resilience
5. I wouldn't change my love of dance
6.I wouldn't change my love for so many different types of music
7. I wouldn't change my obsession with art
8. I wouldn't change my love of flowers
9. I wouldn't change my taste in movies
10. I wouldn't change my love for reading and knowledge
11. I wouldn't change my love of writing
12. I wouldn't change my survival skills
13. I wouldn't change my creativity
14. I wouldn't change my strong-willed determination
15. I wouldn't change my curly kinky afro hair
16. I wouldn't change my long legs
17. I wouldn't change my tattoo
18. I wouldn't change my laughter
19. I wouldn't change my ability to do what makes me happy and not caring what others think
21. I wouldn't change my sense of humor
22. I wouldn't change my kindness
23. I wouldn't change my silliness
24. I wouldn't change my inability to laugh at times when i should be embarressed
25. I wouldn't change my inability to sleep without a night light and my favorite stuffed animal

Support group tomorrow

Tomorrow is support group and I am the long share person. Meaning I go first, its for up to 15 minutes and I can receive supportive feedback afterward. The topic is: I am able to grieve my childhood and mourn the loss of those who failed me.


I think this is a good topic for me because I have been working on this step for a while on my own. It will be nice to get support from a room full of people as i work on it. It's so hard tho to accept that I was failed by so many who were supposed to love me. It changes the view of them in my head. Like my mother for instance. In my head I've always seen her as a woman lost. Not knowing how to care properly because she was never shown. I excused her behaviors with her mental illness and her own sadness. But her actions can't be excused, I was hers and her job was to keep me safe yet she failed. Failed so horribly. Then she died and never even had the chance to attempt to make anything right. Tho its impossible to ever right a wrong when you don't believe a wrong has even occurred. My mother is right there at the beginning of my pain. I never really mourned her death but I mourn the loss of what could have been. A mother who could see the pain in my eyes and do everything in her power to save me. But I never had that and I never will. I was an innocent child who loved her parents unconditionally. I say unconditionally because I never expected anything in return. They showed me early enough what it mean to lack basic things in life. I never even expected for them to love me back. I just wanted to make them happy and proud of me. So I did the best I could.

So many people failed me. So many saw what was happening or how bad things were getting and did nothing. Those who did anything were ones who wished to contribute to the pain I was already suffering. If one of them, just one had stepped up and done something thing to stop the continuing of evil things could have been so different. All I needed was to be saved by just one person. But no one was brave enough. We as people upon seeing tragedy like to sit on the sidelines and watch. I liken it to seeing a car accident. Everyone slows down to watch but very few will ever actually stop their cars, stop their lives for a moment, get out and rush to assistance. Because that's how this world works. And my life was like a terrible car accident. One of those horrific head on collisions. Leaving people bloody and battered and broken. So no one ever choose to slow down and assist. Then I just got lost in the heap of other boys and girls who no one ever saved. And i stayed that lost child, until I learned how to find and save myself. 

So now its my time to do what no one else ever did. Give that broken child a voice, show her love and save her from the awfulness that surrounds her. Everyday that I write or speak it or cry  about it I let go of a little bit more of the pain that kept that child silent for so long. A friend once told me that what happened is the same as if I got into a horrible accident causing bits of metal to log under my skin all over my body. Every-time I speak its like pulling out a piece of the metal and watching the wound heal. Sometimes I'm surprised at how much was actually lodged in there....as much as I remove there is always more. Sometimes it almost seems like their multiplying. Or going deeper and forming a greater wound. But I am stronger now then that child stuck in that horrible accident called life.

 So i grieve my childhood by saying goodbye to her. Like having a funeral without a body. Similar to what I wrote here HERE Ive said my goodbyes to her in my mind I think the next step for me in this process is to do something. A real something to say good bye. Because I owe her so much. I wouldn't be the woman I am today without her fighting so hard to endure.

Grieving for me is more then just walking around crying and wearing black. Its a chance to honor the deceased, remember them, and honor who them were. I exist today because of a child whose spirit had to die inside of a house filled with rage and anger. I wouldn't be who I am had all those things not happened so I wish to honor who she was. She was smart, funny, loving, trusting, caring, and gentle. She had the ability to love more then she was ever loved herself. She was inquisitive and wanted to know about the world around her. Why was the grass green? Why was the sky blue? She loved asking questions even if they only one she could ask was god. She was independent and wise beyond her years. She was resilient and found ways to smile even when there was nothing to smile about, even when they tried to beat the smile  off of her lips. She lives on inside of me. I love her and want her to be a peace now.

Goodbye little one and thank you for fighting.

Some inspiration

I'm Angry

So today in therapy we talked about anger. I feel like I get angry at a lot of small things because I'm not addressing the actual reasons I'm angry. So we started on this today, not even touching most of it. I never realized how angry i actually am, and I never allow myself to feel like I deserve to be that angry. But I do. And I am tired. So sick of tired of being angry with myself. When the anger belongs with him, when it belongs with everyone who hurt or failed me. Because I was a child. A defenseless baby given the weight of the world to carry before she could even walk. I DO deserve to be angry. So here's my anger:

I'm angry that I was born into a world without love. I'm angry that I ever thought that what happened was my fault. I'm angry that my dad raped me. I'm angry that he did it everyday. I'm angry that he let his friends rape me. I'm angry that they paid him. I'm angry that he hit me. I'm angry that he confused me for his wife instead of his child. I'm angry that he treated me like property. I'm angry that I came from him. I'm angry that he's the one that hurt me. I'm angry that he used my love and trust in him against me. I'm angry that he thought buying me pretty things and nice toys would make up for what he did. I'm angry that I took those gifts. I'm angry that my mother pretended that she didn't know what was happening to me. I'm angry that he sometimes touched me in the bed right next to her. I'm angry that no matter how hard i pulled on her arm to wake her up and make he see what he was doing, she never did. I'm angry that she drank and took so many pills that she was blinded by what was right in front of her face. I'm angry that she was my responsibility. I'm angry that she hit me, tried to stab me or suffocate me anytime i hid her pills. I'm angry i ever cared about her life enough to hide them. I'm angry that I had to sleep with a bed against my door. I'm angry that that wasn't enough to keep the evil out. I'm angry no one saved me. I'm angry that so much responsibility was placed on my tiny shoulders. I'm angry I had to keep these secrets. I'm angry that I let them make me angry. I'm angry that I thought I did something wrong. I'm angry at my shame. And I'm angry that he ever thought it was okay to try to destroy me.

I'm sure there's more anger but that's all i can feel right now

Great weekend completing several different things on my list! Finally some fun. Its time to get back to reality but i needed this break. So lucky to have such amazing people in my life to help me survive and have fun even if its only in small doses. #happy #grateful

Dear life....I hate you

Today sucks, actually most days suck. But today just seems to be falling apart around me. Nothing is working. Therapy is hard, it was waay to intense and we focused on to much and now I'm overwhelmed. I'm sick, had to lose ANOTHER day of work because of that, and I can't even find a decent place to cry in this house because there's so many people and i have no privacy!

I went to my car. Broken down there. The kind of break down where you really need someone to hold you after but instead your alone...crying in a car. In fact I've never felt so alone before. My world crumples around me, my life turning to ash before my eyes and there's nothing I can do but let go and let it happen. I don't have the energy to try to put my life back together right now and I'm missing all of the important pieces to my puzzle. Maybe I will try again tomorrow. I just need to rest now.

Well...its done...

So I did it. I reported. It was completely different that I ever expected. I don't know if i had pictured Olivia Benson swooping down to protect me and catch the bad guy but the experience I got....the cop I got was about a bad as it gets. He was so mean and rude and insensitive...I guess he perfectly prepared me for if this goes to trial and I have to testify in open court. First let me just say, I had to wait for 3 or more hours in the advocates office for him to actually show up because my case wasn't an emergency. So I was already on edge. Then he came right as my advocate stepped out and refused to wait for her. The whole reason we waited there for so long and didn't go to the police station was because I wanted my advocate with me. He did the entire 1st half of the interview without her. I was so scared and nervous. Every-time I started crying he began to tap his pen loudly on his notebook to hurry me up. Then he started asking me things not related to my dad. Questions about my siblings, my mother etc. This would normally be fine if he hadn't wasted 60% of my statement time just talking about my mother. Another 15% he wasted on my brother, 15% more on the other person who raped me with my father. Yes all of this stuff is important but shouldn't we have talked about my father more?! I tried but i felt so rush and like i wasn't answering the questions like he wanted. He didn't even ask me if my father was around any other children that could be in danger. I had to squeeze in the fact that I have a 12-year-old niece that sees him. HE DIDN'T EVEN ASK?! Shouldn't the 1st thing he asks is if children are around him?!

He talked about my mom sooo much. How did she die? When? What did her death certificate say? Where did she work when she was alive? What drugs did she take? ETC ETC ETC Why waste so much time on someone who A. Wasn't my abuser and B. Is dead ? And this just makes me angry. When she was alive, EVERYTHING was about her. What she had overdosed on, what she drank to much of, DUI's, her going into Bipolar rage and going missing, getting hospitalized, ETC. No one ever cared about me. And now even in death she manages to make everything about her. She is really talented. I just needed it to be about me this one time and as usual she stole all the attention i so desperately needed.

The next thing that angered me: I didn't get to talk about any of the other abuse. All this cop wanted to focus on was the 1st rape at 4 and the other person that was involved. Why start on a witch hunt for someone whose face I don't even know when my dad is just right there? Walking around as a free man?

Then the cop got mad when I couldn't answer his questions like How long did that rape occur? How many minutes? I don't know...I was four. I couldn't tell time. But he got mad. And because I couldn't tell him how much blood was everywhere....I don't know it seemed like soo much. But AGAIN i was four...how can I know the amount now?

Then he asked me for my fathers information. I gave him his full name, DOB, city location, and my sisters info so she could give them his address. I even offered to give them his SSN....
Cop: "Well do you have his address?"
Me: "No but he lives in this city, can't you try to find him? His name isn't very common."
Cop: "No, how do you expect us to find him with out a valid address"
Me: "Contact my sister for it"
Cop: "Yeah well we are going to talk to her"
Me: "Your going to talk to him first tho right?"
Cop: "Not if we have to get his address from her"
Me: Can't that be done discreetly? You can get her to give you his contact info without telling her the reasons...you cant talk to her first! she will tell him. You have to talk to him first!"
Cop: "That's not how it works"

WHY? WHY isn't that how it works?! Why tip off the bad guy when they could just work a little harder to get his address a different way? He shouldn't know the cops are coming until they are there....And why can't the cops find him with all the info i provided. I told them the city...its a small population, he would be the only one with that name...cops find people who don't want to be found all the time....if he doesn't know there coming he wouldn't even be hiding. I am so confused and hurt right now. This is the system that's supposed to bring me justice? This cop was horrible but I'm an adult so I can partly deal with it...what if i really was 4 now...is this how he would treat me....just another man hurting me and making me feel worthless.


My heart hurts and I feel like a total failure

Panicking

I never thought I would find myself wishing I for a panic attack. But its been building for days and days, trying to pop up at times it shouldn't so I push it back down and avoid it. Now I so desperately need it to come out. I need one of those hysterical, over the top cries, where someone just holds onto you the entire time. I don't think I've ever needed to go to therapy as badly as I need to go right now. I'll be so relieved when the reporting is over. I've never been so terrified to speak before. I'm so shaky, and freezing, why am  i so cold? Two more days....I say that like in two days this is over. Yeah the initial reporting is over in two days..but this is just the beginning. How do I know if I'm ready for what comes next?

Reporting...

As hard of a decision that this was to make and as long as I've waited to do this, I know that I've made the right decision to report him. But I also know that by coming forward I have to be prepared. Prepared to lose even more then I already have. Lose the small bit of family that I have left in my sister and my niece. Lose control over this secret that I've been holding on to for so many years. But I will also gain a lot. By coming forward I'm free. I'm uplifting myself by taking my power back that he so violently stole from me. However to take my power back I have to speak. This has always been the  part of my journey. To just speak and say what happened.  Now I must tell police, advocates, and many others. I will probably have to tell them this over and over and over again. Yet I sit here wondering how on earth I can possible do this. How can I expose all of those ugly dark secrets to complete strangers? Secrets that I've never spoken of before, some of which I have never even brought myself to write about. How? I'm completely scared out of my mind. Yet also excited to finally tell someone my pain who can actually do something to bring me justice. Its a twisted place I'm in. Caught between wanting so badly to do this and thinking I should just continue to bury it, give up, and try my best to move on. I wish someone could tell me what the right thing to do was. This is one of those moments that I really wish I had a mother. Sometimes I'm okay, you know? I feel fine without her here, I've been guiding myself for so long it seems as if i never really needed her. But then I have moments like these. Moments that  it doesn't matter how old you are, all you need is to lay in bed with your mom as she rubs your head and lets you cry yourself to sleep. I need her arms right now comforting me.

Exposing My Truth

Everyday is a fight, to the death it feels. To simply survive, to be. I do so much work just to function. So much effort I put forth to do things that others take for granted.  Sleep has become one of my greatest demons, figuring out how to sleep, when to sleep, what will put me to  sleep fast, what will keep me asleep, what will keep me asleep but allow me to wake up if i need to from a nightmare, what will reduce nightmares, how to bring my anxiety level down before bed...i could go on all night. Something so simple as resting your head on a pillow and closing your eyes to drift off is something that brings me to tears. This is just one thing that is so greatly affected by what happened to me. And what about all the others? The daily flashbacks, panic attacks, and triggers? I suffer so much just to be alive, and what does he do? He lives his life.... There were no consequences for his actions against me. So I am left to put my life together after he broke it. I am left to hurt and work so hard while he does nothing. How is that just?
He deserves to have the entire world know what kind of man he is. He deserves to be publicly shamed. He deserves to be branded as the devil that he is. And I'm going to be the one to do this. To publicly shame him, brand him, and show the world who he is. I'm going to report him, tell police what hes done because I'm not weak anymore like that small child he once hurt. I am mighty and fierce and with the power of my army behind me I can do this. I've never had a support system like this before,i have never had so many people showing me love and cheering me on. I have all I need to do what I sought to do four years ago.

He can't hurt me anymore, I am untouchable.
I am not silent any longer, I want them all to hear my voice, and see my power, as I expose my truth.

Questions...

Some mornings I wake up and I ask "Why did this happen to me?" But you know what? No one ever answers me back. And if they did, what would they tell me? Would they say what other people have told me? That "Sometimes bad things happen to good people" or "Sometimes things happen that make you stronger. Help you grow." But you see answers like those do nothing because it still doesn't answer why. Why do some people get two parents that love them unconditionally and others don't? And what is unconditional love? Love without limits? Restrictions? Love without expecting anything in return? Why have I never had someone lovin me like this? More then anything I just want to understand. Why me? Why was I singled out? Why was my father so so angry? Do I posses this same type of anger? Is it locked far away, somewhere deep in me waiting to come out? Will it come out when or if I ever become a mother? What if I'm like him? Or what if I'm simply absent minded and weak like her? Allowing the same things to be done, not knowing or pretending not to know. Needed a man so badly that I miss whats in front of my own eyes. Their blood runs though me. I belonged to them. Am I different? Or more of the same, just waiting for the moment to unleash it? How can I be different when I came from such evil? Such Darkness? I was the light in that dark world but they sought to diminish me. Cover my rays. Did they succeed?

I just want to grow, and to become something more then they could have ever been. They wasted their lives hurting others. I want to spend mine uplifting others. Does that make me different? Or were my parents once like me? Did someone also diminish their light? Did someone destroy them the way they did me? Is my only fate to become them? What kind of things have to happen in your life for you to hurt you baby daughter that way, anyway, but especially that way? During it or after does nothing ever click saying "This is wrong" "STOP, THIS IS YOUR BABY, DON'T DO THIS"? I guess I shouldn't seek to understand what goes on inside the mind of a child rapist. I don't want to be able to understand because that would mean I'm like him.
I'm at a loss

Walking Dead

I am floating around this earth, a ghost, unnoticed, and empty.
Yet I leave footprints in the sand.
I breath, and I walk, my heart beating but I feel dead
All I had, every part of me was cut off.
Falling to the ground to disintegrate at the feet of the ones causing my pain
I was stuck in the body of this dead child unable to break free
But I grew, somehow
I transformed and became something else, someone else
I left her body there. I saw what those men were doing to her
So I floated away and she perished with her words stuck in the back of her throat
Words that formed screams, and screams that turned into begging
Begging to understand, begging for it to stop
Begging for an answer, but none came
Now I feel non-existent. Just a soul, traveling in search
In search of something, in search of life, in search of hope
Maybe still searching for an answer
I continue my search yet I find it difficult to move in this decomposed body
These hands are dead, these feet are dead, my heart is dead
My everything is dead
I must put that little one to rest, So I can breath
Closing her eyes, and crossing her hands across that dead heart
I release her
Awakening the spark of life back into my veins
It ignites like fire, then flows through me and down to my fingertips
Throwing all numbness, shame, and guilt in that coffin with her
I lower her body into the dark earth and say goodbye
I tell her I'm sorry no one ever saved her
Throwing dirt on her grave I walk away
I walk away knowing it's ok to feel
To be here, surviving, even tho she didn't
I can be alive for her, because she never got the chance
I can feel life pulling at my ankles begging me to join it and to simply let her rest
So I follow life, to breath, to walk, to keep my heart beating
Yet more then that.
To feel, to  love and be loved, to learn and to know
To remember and yet move forward
To feel not like a ghost but as this beautiful butterfly I have transformed into

 Dear Diary,

My hands are numb. I've barely slept in two days...scratch that make that 22 years I've barely slept. Sometimes when I think back on that memory from when I was four years old I feel like I can feel the ropes on my wrists and ankles all over again. Like right now I am being plucked from my hiding place by my father, thrown on the bed, raped, tied up, raped again by two people, and left there to rot in that filth. It feels like now. Like those memories are knives stabbing me repeatedly in the heart, killing me slowly. I want to stop thinking about this. Move on but its as if someone has pressed rewind on my life and is forcing me to continue to go back. This memory...all of these memories are everywhere. Its all I see, all i feel, all i know. I need a break. I want to run and hide from these things but they follow me. Lurk in the darkness, bringing me back to their reality whenever I begin to move on. Please leave me alone, please let me rest, please just give me one moment of peace. I'm so tired, mentally, emotionally, physically..... I just need to rest my eyes. If I plead with my mind and beg these nightmares to go away will they vanish for just one night?

I Am More

I am more then the lies that he told me, more then the words that he said
I am good for more then making men happy and lying on my back in that bed

I am more then this pain, anguish, and hurt that upon me he placed
I will no longer allow my mind, body, and spirit within his power to be disgraced

I am more then the weight of my world, guilt, and shame that I carry
I am digging through this dirt to find my soul to quickly unbury

I've slowly reopened up my wounds, unraveled my secrets  for the world to see
Bleeding them out through my words to kind ears and I allowed  it strengthen me

I am grieving and mourning but no longer being swallowed up by my past
I will become more then these flashbacks and memories that continue to last

I am more then my sad days, my failures, set backs, and  tears
One day no longer will I be controlled by my minds possession of so many fears

I am more then some victim, and that broken damaged little thing
I can now find joy in this world, be uplifted, my heart can begin to sing

Old Post Then And Now

Old writing I found:

I hate remembering new things all the time. I hate how dirty It makes me feel. I hate knowing what was done. I hate seeing his face or remembering his smell. And I hate remembering my cries and screams that went unanswered. I hate myself. When I look In the mirror I see that dirty girl he saw. I see her as being undeserving of love or attention. I see the worthlessness, ugliness of her every part. I see what he saw In me. Everything bad that he did  I see this when I close me eyes, I see It when I open my eyes. Its always with me, making me remember. I remember hiding In the closet as I heard his footsteps. And I remember the numbing calmness that came over my body as I saw his shadow covered  the light that seeped In. I remember the door opening and the light falling over me, then hands grabbing me, dragging me out. I remember always being found.

I felt dead, breathing and heart beating yes. But dead Inside. A person would have to be dead to endure pain like that, pain that tears through your entire body, paralyzing every limb. A real person can't survive that, so I left my body. I left It there for him to do as he wished with. I went to away to happy times, I laughed with my friends, I ran at the park, I sang In my car seat In the car. I went everywhere I could except to go back to that room, In that bed, at that moment. I stayed away until he was done, then I could come back, then I could go back and sit In the closet, and then I could cry.

Why would anyone hurt a person like this? I was soo tiny and  he tried with his every strength to break me and tear down all of me. Sometimes I feel that he won. I'm still dead, walking around In this body barely existing, barely here, never feeling, never accepting, never dealing. Pushing the pain away

 How I feel now:

I still hate remembering new things, I don't think that will ever really change. However now I can view it differently. Before I saw it as this horrible trick my brain was playing on me trying to destroy my life. Now I see those new memories as what they are...memories. They are apart of me. They complete my story, show me where I am, how far I've come and how strong I am. If I wasn't strong enough my brain wouldn't show it to me. So I don't welcome them, but I refuse to shut them out anymore. If they come they come. I've accepted it.

I don't hate myself anymore, I love myself now. When I look In the mirror I don't see that dirty girl that he always told me I was. I see me now, a strong woman who doesn't have to hide in closets or fear the darkness anymore. I don't feel dead anymore I feel alive like electricity is running through my veins instead of blood. Even in my darkest moments I am still alive, I can feel all the pain and not just be a ghost void of emotion walking this planet.

He didn't win. I may be struggling and everyday and it may be a fight but I'm here and I'm strong. I'm accepting what has happened, I'm surrounding myself with kind, caring people who build me up and allow me to rely on them for strength. I am now far beyond where I was when I wrote those words above.

My Story

In two weeks I have support group again and we got to pick the topic. We all voted and choose the topic "Telling Our Story". I thought this would be interesting for me to think about because I have never sat down and thought about it all, everything that happened to me. It's time.

Timeline of the abuse:
0-3 > Molested often, no beatings or emotional abuse yet. I remember him being really kind, which just      confused me more because it make me think when he does those things that he loved me and is just being nice.

4-8 > This is when the rapes started and continued for the entire four years, nearly every night. It was routine. Violence started between 3 and 4 and slowly just got worse. But it was worse for everyone in the family, not just me.

8-11 > This is my happier time. Mom and dad divorced. It was just me and her. Tho she was mentally and physically ill life with her felt like paradise compared to what it had been.

11 > Life came crashing down on me. Mommy sent me to visit the devil. I hadn't seen him in 3 years. I remember getting on the plane to see him. I remember walking through the front door of his house, and I remember the room, the bed and that the windows had bars on them. I remember feeling trapped. And that's all I remember. Two weeks just completely gone. I don't know what happened in those two weeks but I hope I never do.

12 > Mommy decides shes lonely and wants to marry the devil again. I beg her not to but she does anyways. I'm to old for what he wants now tho. No longer a little girl. Now I look grown up and the events from my life have just aged me that much more. He comes back angry. Not only am I not a cute little girl like he likes but now he risks being found out if he continues to rape me. So the beatings start, belittling, neglect, and he begins to make unreasonable demands. I start working this year, and now have bills to pay to him. They pull me out of school and home school me, but teach me nothing, I work to pay him.

13-15 > These years mush up together. Its all violence, or me having to work, or going back to school, or being taken from school. Walking for miles just to get to school with out a ride from a parent or bus money. Not eating, this is when cutting started. These years hurt a lot more then the others because I felt like I couldn't take life anymore, after everything I was just hurting to much

15-16> Parents split again, she was tired of him hitting or yelling at her. So we move out. I'm now working full time and still home schooled but actually studying and getting A's. I am now solely responsible for my mother. He had told me she was my responsibility when I was 12 but he still watched her for me when I worked. Now she was all on me. Now she started being violent towards me, overdosing on medication while getting drunk. Almost burning down the house several times. Trying to kill me in my sleep on multiple occasions. I slept with my bed against the door. Left for work or school out of my bedroom window. Returned through the front door to check on her and feed her then when back around to my room through the window. This was my new routine.

16 > This is running away, staying with friends, staying with my sister, or my year to just get away. My mother had decided to be with my father again and I couldn't bare the thought of going back so I ran.

17 > I went back, she was getting sicker, he was getting more violent towards her. I know the drugs, drinking and mental illness was going to kill her soon. I had to protect her for as long as I could. His violence escalated and turned to me. But that was okay, it was better then the rapes. And she wasn't being hurt. I could take it. He would chase me through the house to pretend like he was going to rape me. It was all just to scare me. I would come home from work and walk through the front door and duck right as he chucked a 20 pound weight at my head. Being kicked with steel toe boots. The list could go on and on. Mostly at this age everything would be done to keep fear in me. He like pinning me down, I think just to show me he was still bigger, still stronger then I was.

18 > Now working two jobs to pay bills to him, in college, have a boyfriend and am never home he gets angrier that I wasn't watching my mother anymore, so I expected to be hurt in some way whenever I came home, which was rarely

18.5 > Mom dies of drug overdose. He makes me feel bad for him. He had just lost his wife, his children hate him. I stay.....months of no abuse. Final straw: He calls me and tells me to bring him home dinner after my class. Class was over at 10:30. That's strike one I was late. He wanted two burgers instead of the one that I got him. That's strike two. I am fed up and as he is sitting there screaming and calling me a selfish bitch I lose it and throw the fast food bag at him. Strike three. Everything happened in slow motion. Him rising from the chair, me running through the apartment, trying to close the door to my room and lock it, him busting the door down, throwing me on the bed, pulling me to the edge so hes directly on top of me. Pinning me down, his full weight on me, his disgusting smell, the reeking of alcohol on his breath, and him trying to rip my clothes off. It all so vivid in my mind still. Tho four years ago it seems like yesterday. This wasn't happening to me again, I had to get away. I started kicking him, he fly's off of me gets up and lunges at me madder then ever. I kick again he falls, hurt this time I get up and run, out of the apartment, down the stairs and far far away from him.



Through all of these years there were still other things that happened that didn't make that list. The multiple car accidents I was in with my mother as she over dosed on medicine and nearly killed us. Me driving at 12 everyday to protect us. Her worsening mental state, getting locked up in institutions and hospital holds, or going missing for days leaving me alone with him. Me being treated like a slave girl for all those years cooking, cleaning, paying bills, running all the family errands, being made to be a grown up long before my time. Not to mention her violence towards me, trying to stab me or suffocate me if I would hide her drugs or alcohol. My whole life was made up of fear or being given roles that I wasn't meant to have. Sleeping with my door locked with my bed pushed against it. I was scared to breath, to move, or to speak.

I have to face all of these things because they all made me who I am. But I am also much more then this. I have risen from the ashes, from the lowest possible places, somehow surviving all of that hurt and pain. Now I wish to make something out of the life I have left. I am 22 yet at times I feel 82. Like I have lived an entire lifetime and now I'm looking back on my life. It WAS a lifetime I lived. A lifetime of hurt, that ended at 18. Now I have been born over again, I am a new person, a butterfly bursting out of its cocoon. I'm starting over as something new and beautiful, leaving all that other stuff hanging there in the past to rot.

Sharing At Support Group Last Night

 I was so nervous. (Did I mention I decided to go back to group? No well I did, this is my second one and I feels soooo right this time. I walk in there feeling like that's where I'm supposed to be) I felt so stupid for volunteering for the long share(15 minutes) because I didn't feel ready, or strong enough to do something like that, but I was ready. I shared about how my shame over what has happened has infringed upon my life, how the guilt eats away at me tho I know my four-year-old self was blameless. I shared, I actually talked and It was awesome. I went in there feeling broken, and beaten down from the events of last week. And I left feeling liberated and free. I feel like that boulder that I usually struggle to carry alone has been cut in half and someone is helping me carry whats left.

After the meeting was over as one of my friends from the group was leaving I told her I wanted to talk to her really quick. I told her what happened in therapy last week. I talked about the flashback, the rape at four. All of it. And I'm still here, I talked about the rape out loud and I'm still standing. I didn't explode like I've always felt that I would. I have NEVER talked about the rapes out loud before. Not even in therapy. I beat around the bush, I write it down, I never say it. I never thought I would be able to. But last night a little voice popped into my head and said "Tell" so I did. I feel like i just leaped over 10 stairs instead of taking 5 steps backwards like I usually feel like I do.

I am strong, I am not going to hide his secret anymore. I vomited them all out with my words and by doing that removed some of the power they have had over me.

Its like watching a cut heal before your eyes. That's how I feel right now :-)

Operation Be A Kid Again

This is my list of things I never got to do as a kid, got to do but want to do again or just things I wanna try as an adult that have nothing to do with childhood. This list could be call Operation Happiness but I call it being a kid again because doing all of them will give me that feeling you get in childhood. That feeling of carefreeness, were nothing matters and everything is happy and fun and exciting, I want that feeling. I want fun. And I want to take back my childhood that was torn away from me so violently. I am taking all my horrible, sad, hurtful memories and putting happy ones in there place. The ones with the stars next to them are ones I have done so far. If they have multiple stars i did them again :-) I'm documenting everything through photos. So when im  done i will have a scrapbook, kinda like how a mom documents her children childhood  for them. I'm mothering myself.

1. Wear a tutu in public *****

2. Double Dutch again

3. Do a photo shoot*

4. Be a model for a day (these two go hand and hand unless the modeling is cat walk)

5. Learn to skate board

6. Go to Disneyland

7. Take an art class

8. Take a Ballet class

9. Take a cooking class

10. Perform in a dance recital or compete

11. "Build a bear" at the workshop

12. Go to the fair and actually ride the rides

13. Get my face painted *

14. Go on a boat ride

15. Throw a huge dress-up themed slumber party

16. read 10 books in two weeks ( i used to set goals like this for myself as a kid)

17. Audition for a movie role

18. Watch all my favorite old Disney movies in one day*

19. Fly a kite

20. Take a road trip for a silly reason Example: Drive through tons of different city's just to stop at every store the have that sells Hello Kitty stuff, or drive cross country for a shoe store lol!

21. Play hookie from work and have a day of fun

22.Go swimming in a lake at night

23. Swim with dolphins

24. Be in two places at once (yes its possible)

25. Enter one of my drawings into an art show

26. Go to Hawaii

27. Go to New york

28. Go to Bali

29. Go to Europe

30. Go to Africa

31. Make a video on Youtube and go viral

32. Get dressed up, go to a tea place, and have a tea party. Hat, white gloves, scones and all!

33. Food fight

34. Learn to play the piano

35. Learn to play the guitar

36. Learn to play the drums

37. Go paint balling

38. Spend a whole day painting in Color Me Mine or Paint a dream*

39. Learn to Hulla Hoop *

40. Learn to Hulla Hoop with more then one hoop

41. Make my own short film

42. Make a music video (for #41 and 42 see #31)

43. Run around outside without shoes on! (like a kid)*

44. Go whale watching

45. Learn to surf

46. Sky High with friends(a place made up entirely of giant floor to ceiling trampolines)

47. Join a Roller Derby team

48. Ride in a limo

49. Drive a race car

50. Ride on the back of a motorcycle*

51. Tie Dye something*

52. Picnic in a field in the middle of nowhere

53. Ride in a hot air balloon

54. Ice cream for dinner*

55. Make up a city wide scavenger hunt

56. Learn to cart wheel and back flip again

57. Hide and Seek at night *

58. Spend and entire day at the park

59. Spend hours playing in a toy store*

60. For one month pick one day a week to dress however I want (make it interesting like a kid would)

61. Join a soccer team

62. Take a kick boxing class

63. Climb a tree

64. Build a giant sand castle

65. Build a giant Leggo castle*

66. Get on a plane and fly somewhere far just for food. Example: New York for cheesecake haha

67. Race...ride... in a race car

68. Play in the sprinklers

69. Star gazing*

70. Dress up in an entire Hello Kitty outfit

71. Make a giant cardboard car....get my friends, go through the drive through, order food

72. Make a GIANT ice-cream cookie sandwich*

73. Archery lessons

74. Fencing lessons

75. Learn to knife throw

76. Build a model airplane

77. Go fishing

78. Get some of my writing published

79. Write a children's book (these 2 can go hand in hand or can be separate)

80. Graduate from a school and actually attend the ceremony

81. Start a "friendly" dodge-ball competition

82. Play street ball with neighborhood people

83. Bubbles!*

84. Zip-lining

85. Climb a rock wall

86. Pet a Giraffe

87. See a waterfall in person

88. Send a "message in a bottle"

89. Make a fort

90. Go Horse Back riding

91. Go sightseeing

92. Order room service

93. Walk on a tight rope

94. Monster truck show

95. Go apple picking

96. Spend a year doing a nice thing for at least one person everyday

97. Complete my bestfriend bucket list with Lana

98. Catch fire Flies

99. Whale Watching

100. Have a love like Allie and Noah ( The Notebook)

101. Work on a farm

102. Complete a wreck It journal with my bestie

103. Skinny Dipping!

104. Ride on an elephant

105. Three legged race! *

106. Cliff jumping into the water!

107. Paint fight!

108. Get matching best friend tattoos

109. Raise money for a charity with a best friend

110. Write a song and perform it

111. Witness a wedding proposal

112. Hold a monkey

113. Cruise the world

114. Make every single thing in a recipe book

115. Ride a mechanical bull

116. Finish an entire coloring book

117. Learn to juggle

118. Lay in the road in the middle of the night with a guy (Like In The Notebook)

119. Throw a dart at a map and travel where ever it lands

120. Get a small tattoo that means a lot*

121. Change someone’s life

122. See Paramore and Adele  in concert

123. Take a trapeze class

124. Hold a butterfly in my hands

125. Swim in every ocean

126. Write a love letter

127. Receive a love letter

128. Party on a yacht

129. Ride in a horse drawn carriage

130. Ice skate in Central Park

131. Smash a pie in someone’s face!

132. Play in a human hamster ball!

133. Carve something in a tree

134. Sit on top of the Hollywood sign

135. Drive- in movie

136. Sleep on the beach*

137. Ride in a gondola

138. See Cirque Du Soleil Live

139. Go parasailing

140. Flash mob

141. Watch the sun rise on a cliff

142. Learn how to speak French

143. Disney World

144. Helicopter ride

145. Get married

146. Have babies

147. Move to LA

148. Learn how to go a back handspring

149. Learn to do the splits

150. Get on point in Ballet

151.

152.

153.

154.

155.

......

This list could be never ending, i can keep adding to it, and continue doing things on it for the rest of my life. Thinking about doing this stuff makes me happy :-)