It is one of those days when my heart twists inside me like warped metal… feeling immovable and beyond repair.. I think about the View from the Pit sometimes and wonder why so few writers embrace and write about the pit… but I think it is because the pain there is so deep and so very personal that writing/speaking honestly about is like giving a piece of your soul away to strangers… it feels foolhardy, dangerous and way beyond vulnerable. How do I articulate this?…. Hmmmmmm… I have unshakable faith in Christ and I have a hope for a better life beyond this one… but if I did not have my faith I must say I don’t think I would have survived my life. I would certainly not be as close to daylight as I am now. I may sill be in the dark… I may still be in the pit… but I can at least see the blessed sun now and I know that I will one day soon feel the warmth of it on my skin with all of its life giving glory.
Tag Archive: cult
Some days it feels like there are no ears to hear our cries. I have faith that this is not the case, but some days I wish that I had a definite answer… some definite sign that my prayers were heard and that an answer was on the way… Some days faith comes so easily to me and other days it feels nearly impossible…
OK – well that’s a rather lighthearted title but this is a heavy post… I have unearthed new memories… very vivid ones and they are terrifying me. I feel like I am losing my mind and I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings that threaten to drown me.
***Disclaimer: this may be triggering to some – read with caution***
Here’s what I remember:
I am young (Don’t know what age, exactly) and I am being forced face down onto a soft surface (bed? couch?…) and I am wearing a dress and my panties have been pulled down and I am being raped from behind and I am beyond terror and the weight of the man on top of me pressing me down makes it impossible to breathe…
I feel my heart start to race and my insides twist just remembering this and writing it down feels dangerous… like he’s going to read this and know it’s me and come after me (even though I have protected myself with anonymity in this blog) I am so afraid sometimes. I hear a car door outside and jump and my heart will pound and I’ll have to calm myself down and remind myself that he is not coming after me. Some days I wonder how long will I carry this… and when will the remembering be over finally? I thought I was done with that part and I have made peace with the gaping holes in my memory… but they are determined to surface. I pray this is the last of them. I am ready for this chapter to close and the healing chapter to be in full swing. I know I have made lots of progress and I am proud of the work I have done to get this far. I have worked so very hard to be where I am and I do not want to dismiss that with my desire to be all the way better… and I also do not want to be content here… I know there is more out there for me and I desire and deserve all the wonderful things ahead of me.
I have a love/hate relationship with self-help/personal-growth books… On the one hand it is helpful and gratifying to know that it is possible to make it through the darkness and thrive on the other side of it all… on the other none of them really give you the view from the pit. It’s ugly here and no-one wants to look at it. Many of them give the briefest of descriptions of the ‘dark days’ and then focus on their steps/ideas/practices that got them out of the mess they were in. I want to see the pit… did life feel as despairing & hopeless to them as it does to me most days? Were they breathing in and out through lungs filled with un-heard screams? Was the pit every bit as deep and dark and ugly as it feels to me today? I would like to know the view from the pit… Then I can feel better about my chances of making it out alive.
I am working through this book right now – Healing your Emotional Self: A Powerful Program to help You Raise Your Self-Esteem, Quiet Your Inner Critic, and Overcome Your Shame. It’s a very good book… I have read about half the book so far and the section I am on right now is dealing with Identifying and Disengaging from our Inner Critic. Some of the phrases Ms. Engel suggests to use (out loud) with your inner critic are the following:
*Shut up!
*Stop it!
*This is poison. Stop it!
*Get off my back!
*This is garbage!
*These are lies.
*These are the same lies my mother/father told me.
*I don’t believe you.
*No more put-downs!
If you are anything like me your inner voice gives a running commentary on every thing you do or fail to do… I know my inner critic has been particularly vociferous of late. I am working to silence those voices that tell me that everything I do is wrong and the thoughts I think are stupid. It’s a long road and I find that the voices are loudest when my anxiety is running the most rampant. Today is a bad day. I must admit, I’m about a 6 on my Levels of Not Okayness and it feels like a struggle just trying to feel at home in my own skin. But all of that aside, I am determined to use the tools I have been given and call on the strength I know I have in side and I WILL overcome this. I am more than my failings and I am not what has been done to me. I am strong and smart and determined to get through this. I will find that inner integrity and I will cling to it like a life raft… I am not crazy or weak… I am enough and I can do this.
Heart torn –
yet not given
the precious gift of death…
I can only breathe in..and out…
waiting…
I’ve been thinking a lot about Dante’s Divine Comedy…specifically his Inferno and I have decide I have 7 levels of my not-okay-ness…I know this is not grammatically correct 🙂 But it’s the best way I can explain it… Here’s how it goes… In this scenario I knock my contact solution off the sink edge due to my infinite clumsiness…
Level One: I have no reaction… I just pick it up and put it back.
Level Two: I take a deep breath, sigh, then put it back.
Level Three: I take a deep breath, huff, blow, slam it back down.
Level Four: I growl at the contact solution, pick it up, slam it down, huff, mumble and clench my fists…then take a deep breath…
Level Five: I growl, glare at the contact solution, leave it there, huff, sigh, take a moment to calm myself down and take a deep breath.
Level Six: I yell at the contact solution, I glare at it, I kick it across the room, yell at it some more and pick it up and slam it down.
Level Seven: I yell at the contact solution, sink, mirror and any inanimate object around, I pick up the contact solution and throw it against the mirror, I cry, I pick it up and throw it again.
Does anyone else have days like this filled with irrational emotional craziness? I hate this rage…this overly emotional out of control feeling….I certainly don’t want to go through life feeling like this… How do I get a handle on it?
It is the oldest dance in existence. Hunter and prey. As I walk into your room I recognize the rhythm as the familiar tune blares into my brain.
I am not alarmed. I am not afraid of you. I have come to expect this from you. I love only for one purpose, to fuel your desire, to sate your appetite for dominance. I am meek. I am submissive.
You are a good man, as they all have been and I already have forgiven you for the pain you are about to inflict on me. It’s ok. It’s fine. I know you’ll be gentle if I don’t struggle so I sit here in my self-loathing and let you torment me.
People say we reap what we sow. What seeds have I sewn to reap this harvest of pain and fear? I listen to your words and hear their meaning. I do not despise you, I cannot. you are a good man.
Is it my fault because I am beautiful? Do I pursue beauty because on some subliminal level I desire this maltreatment? Do I feel that I deserve this?
You are a good man. I do not blame you for your torment. You are a good man so it must be me who is wrong. I am the bad one. I am wrong. You are a good man. People look up to you and respect you. you give guidance to them. They depend on you to direct them. You are a good man. My punishment must be just. This is what I am here for here.
Am I wrong because I love you? Am I bad because in spite of your treatment I admire and obey you. Obedience is better than sacrifice. What have I sacrificed in the name of obedience? Where is the line drawn between obedience to a good man and sacrifice of one’s self?
How important is innocence? It encompasses our lives and leads us to misery. The pursuit of wisdom is good… then why does wisdom destroy innocence?
You are a good man…
My grandmother is fiercely loyal to her favorite son. For reasons no one really knows she worships the ground he walks on. It is not unlike a cult, with Eddie the proclaimed prophet or savior. I will never understand where this unhealthy devotion comes from. Growing up in this family of 8 children, Eddie was the one who could do no wrong. He molested some and possibly all of his 5 sisters. When they came and told their mother, she told all of the children to keep it a secret and not tell their father. She was worried that if her husband found out he would kick Eddie out of the house. She was more willing to sacrifice all 5 of her daughters to this man than to save her daughters and put him away where he belonged.
Later, after the children grew up and some had girls of their own, the entire family gladly left their daughters alone with this man knowing full well what he was capable of. It was more important to save this “good man” this “man of God” than to be sure their children were safe. It was more important to preserve a reputation than any of the girl’s innocence. We were all disposable. Just something to be sacrificed at the Altar of Eddie.
If I live to be a hundred years old, I will never know where all of the contempt came from. Why were the girls in my family so despised? Why were we so worthless to so many people? Why were our lives not more important than the reputation and freedom of one man? Why was it ok for Eddie to molest and rape us?
I know it’s impossible to ever get answers to these questions, but I long to understand. There’s a part of me that believes if I could just understand this, my life would suddenly make sence. I know this is pure fantasy and will never happen, but I just long to categorize these experiences and make them fit into some form of sanity. I want to have simple explanations, even if they are painful ones. Instead I am stuck with this horrible feeling of worthless-ness. Of being a disposable object… a thing of contempt. I feel like I must be truly broken for an entire family to want to toss me to a monster, then protect the monster.
I know one day I will be beyond this in my healing and the quest for answers will not matter so much. I know that one day I will learn to accept that my family is just profoundly broken and twisted and wrong and completely unaware of what love actually is or what it means. But between now and then I have this gaping hole in my heart and a pain that permeates all I touch and a sadness that lingers behind my smile.
captivatingbitter 