This has been an emotional and triumphant week for me. I never imagined that I would be in this particular place. On Wednesday I was asked to be a guest speaker for a small group. I was asked to simply share my story and was told that many of the women attending would benefit from this. I spoke to a group of women (and 2 men) and told them my story. I told them about this life, this pain, this fear and this healing. It was terrifying to speak to strangers so openly…to lay my heart open to them and trust that they would handle it with loving-kindness. The response was over-whelming. I was so moved by their compassion… and so much more… they seemed so genuinely touched by my words… they were moved to share their own stories and we hugged and cried and prayed together. These wonderful people opened their homes, lives and hearts to me and trusted me with their truth. There are no words for how powerful and moving it was. On Sunday we stopped half-way home and visited my aunt and uncle – the first family I have had contact with in over two years. I was able to open up to them and to share my heart with them as well… and they received me without rejection or criticism. After so many years of silence I am finding my voice and I feel like a new woman. I am not saying that I am suddenly healed after years of abuse, fear, anger etc… but I feel a new strength… This week brought so many surprises… so much hope… and for the first time in a long time I feel that my recovery WILL one day be complete. I know life is a journey and I have far yet to go, but I know I will be ok… I am no longer focused on surviving my life… I am finding ways to live my life and to help others do the same.
Tag Archive: rape
Taken at Suwannee River State Park… Some days I don’t know which way is up… some days I feel lost in Alice’s mirror and I can’t remember who is real – me or my mask. Some days my world feels upside down and the ground and sky cannot be distinguished… Inside I’m begging for someone to show me what is real and what is a reflection from the funhouse of mirrors in my mind.
I am struggling today. I feel lost in my own mind and I fear I may go mad if I do not connect with someone. I need desperately to get outside of my own head. It feels dangerous and crowded in here. I do anything, everything to distract myself, to be ok – but none of it is working today. I had this idea in my mind that I would go out to eat after work and sit and sip a nice coffee while I read and was totally at peace with myself and my surroundings… I would get lost in the moment and allow myself to relax in a public setting. I would dine alone with relish at the space – all the room for my own thoughts and ideas and creative urges… I brought along my journal and was READY. I was prepared for great inspiration and deep connecting to my heart. What I actually did was drive between 3 different restaurants in a fit of indecision for about half an hour before deciding to eat at a place I’ve never heard of just because it was getting late and I was verging on panic. So I parked and went inside. It was quiet, only a hand-full of other diners – that is, until I got there. Apparently the dinner rush came right behind me and the place transformed from a quiet haven to a bustling noisy nerve-jangling room full of voices and smells of food and bodies. Now, I know the place was not as full as my mind was making it out to be – but in my anxiety-filled state of mind it felt like a crowd pressing upon me… so no peace. I ate fast and got out of there. Next I figured I could at least go to the nearest coffee shop and pull up a chair and be politely ignored while I read or journal. I arrived at Starbucks (not exactly what I had in mind but I’m still learning my way around this town) and ordered with confidence and sat at a tall table in the tiny coffee shop. I read a chapter of my book (although, in retrospect, I cannot tell you what I read) and sipped my mocha. I made myself read slowly and to sip my drink with apparent relish… but I was not fooling myself. My heart raced, my palms were sweaty and I was hyper aware of every person in the room and through the corner of my eye kept tabs on the people around me. Will I ever get beyond this need to look over my shoulder? Will I ever not feel his eyes on me? Will I ever stop listening for his footsteps coming up behind me? Will I ever forget the feel of his rough hands, stubbled chin…the smell of his after-shave? Will I ever purge myself of this man? Will I ever be able to stay in the moment without escaping into the nearest distraction? Will I ever feel at home in my own skin again? Will I ever stop feeling like a disappointment, a failure? Will his voice ever leave my ears? What ifs plague me. What if he haunts me my entire life. What if I never get better? What if … what if …
It is hard for me when I think about how Eddie’s abuse affected me. I hate that his actions have had such an influence over my life. It has tainted how I view people. It has made it nearly impossible to trust anyone – even myself. I feel isolated much of the time – afraid that if people really knew me they wouldn’t want anything to do with me. Because of what Eddie did I feel dirty and broken inside and that is not fair. I feel like I am always waiting for the other shoe to drop – waiting to be abandoned and forgotten. I grew up feeling invisible – I became the perfect chameleon, it’s how I survived.
I am still affected by his abuse today – I am so broken and so afraid. I cannot function in a healthy relationship without constant guidance and reassurance. I am afraid to have sex because I dont’ want my marriage tainted by Eddie’s touches. I don’t want to think of his hands touching me when I should be enjoying my husband’s caress. Because of the abuse I suffered as a child I feel powerless and tainted and worthless. My life is still affected in so many areas. I struggle in my marriage because I am unable to accept and trust love and affection. I am affected in my job because I struggle to find my voice. I am affected in my relationship with my family because I am still so afraid of them and I still feel crazy around them – crazy and so small.
One strength I developed because of the abuse is empathy. I truly have a heart for the suffering. I have a strongly developed sixth sense about people and their intentions. It has helped me survive. I developed a tender and caring heart and a strong desire to fight for the weak. I developed and artistic eye and a desire to make the world beautiful. I developed a rich imagination and a poet’s heart. I escaped into words, books and dreams. I found a way to wring pleasure out of almost any small thing – whether it is a gift or just the sight of a butterfly. I am a strong woman. I had to be to survive my childhood. I locked myself away inside the warehouse of my mind and kept myself save in there between the dusty shelves. If I survived this I can do anything. I WILL make it out of this. I WILL get better. I will heal. I am worth fighting for. I can do this.
Father, I thank you for the strength You gave me to overcome my past. I invite you into my heart, into my healing, into my broken places and into my marriage. Come, Jesus. Make the broken whole again…
Excerpt from The Courage to Heal pg xxiv ~” Time will dull the pain, but deep healing doesn’t happen uness you consciously choose it”~
John Eldridge says in his book Wild at Heart that “A wound unfelt is a wound unhealed.” So I have to ask myself – how do I feel? How has living with this abuse made me feel…? Following along in the first chapter of Courage I have journaled the following:
How abuse affected my self esteem:
I feel…..
- Bad, dirty, ashamed
- Like there’s something wrong with me
- Like if people really knew me they would leave me
- Like I hate myself
- Immobilized by fear/can’t get motivated
- Unable to protect myself
- Self destructive
I don’t know how to….
- Identify my own needs
- Feel good
- Nurture myself
- Trust myself
- Recognize my own interests/talents/goals (my heart)
I feel like I can’t accomplish what I set out to do
I feel like I can’t move on with my life.
I feel compelled to be perfect
I feel like I am missing large parts of my childhood…
How this abuse has affected my body:
I have a hard time:
- Appreciating and accepting my body
- Feeling at home in my own skin
- Being fully present in my body
- experiencing a full rang of feelings in my body.
- experiencing my body as a unified whole.
I have:
- Hurt myself ~abused my body
- Used alcohol and drugs
- Had an eating disorder
- Had a physical illness connected to my abuse
- Felt as though I sometimes leave my body.
Sometimes I:
- Am not always aware of the messages my body gives me (hunger, fear, tiredness…)
- Mistrust my body
- Feel numb or disconnected from physical sensations
- Startle easily and have a hard time calming down
- Am unable to relax and feel physically safe.
Relating to intimacy – Sometimes I:
- Find it difficult to: trust people, make close friends, create/maintain healthy relationships, give or receive nurturing, be affectionate, say no/set appropriate boundaries.
- I feel I don’t deserve love
- I am afraid of people
- I feel alienated/isolated
- I rarely feel connected to self/others
- I don’t know how to trust
- I feel betrayed and taken advantage of
- I shut down, get nervous, panic when people get too close
- I cling to people I care about
- I expect people to leave me.
It is hard to take an honest look at my life – to survey the damage like I am taking inventory. I don’t exactly know how to feel about all of this…mosty I look over the different aspects of my life and kind of nod to myself and think…”Well this explains a lot.”
Please bear with me dear readers. I am by far not through this journey yet.
Peace be with you.
I’ve been absent from the electronic world for quite a while now… I’ve been working on a wonderful book called “The Courage to Heal: A Guide for Women Survivors of Child Sexual Abuse” by Laura Davis and Ellen Bass. It’s a wonderful therapeutic tool with several writing and meditation exercises. This book has taken me on a journey though my anger, my pain and my memories. Through it I am finding connections to my past in many unexpected places and through many maladaptive coping mechanisms. I am learning to identify survival techniques that helped me claw my way out of hell but are no longer serving me now. I am learning to honor those defense mechanisms and to release them. By no means have I “arrived” but for possibly the first time in my life I am consistently traveling on the road to healing. If you will permit me I would like to share more of that healing journey with you through sharing my journaling from this wonderful book as well as my writing exercises from it and an honest look at my anger and fear and the relinquishment of the same. May love and peace find you-may it find me as well.
Dear Mom & Dad,
I am so disappointed in you. I will never understand the way you treated me. Why didn’t I matter to you? Why, when you found out I was molested, was your first thought about how you could protect your reputations and not about how you should/could have protected me? How can you play nice with and spend time with family that treated their daughters like human sacrifices? Why was it so hard for you to love me? Mark loves me and he says I am easy to love – so why is it so hard for you? Why couldn’t you see me? Was I invisible? Was I too much? You always made me feel like I was too much – like loving me would just overload you somehow. Why wasn’t I ever good enough for you? Why did you turn on me? How was it my fault that Eddie raped me and his daughters? It wasn’t my fault, it was never my fault! How dare you blame me! It is so unfair. you should never have had me – you didn’t want a daughter – you wanted another notch in your belt… another blessing to claim… some other piece of evidence to prove you were a man & woman of God. You wanted a trophy not a child. You treated me like a display and when I wasn’t ‘pretty’ when I didn’t display just right you didn’t want me anymore. You would rather think I was possessed by the devil than to think I didn’t believe like you anymore. You would rather count me among the lost souls than to consider you may be wrong in you beliefs and there may be more to life and to God than wrath and anger. It isn’t my fault you don’t know me (or God.) It’s yours. you had plenty of chances to know me and you didn’t bother. I am worth it. I don’t deserve your criticism our your disdain. you don’t know me because you don’t think I am worth it…well, you’re missing out. I am worth it…I am a good woman. I am smart, beautiful and loving. I love God with all my heart and I serve Him. I love my husband and I am a wife to be proud of. Being raped by Eddie was not my fault – it was yours and you are not worthy to be parents.
It was not my fault. It was not my fault.
It was not my fault. It was not my fault.
It will never be my fault.
Love,
No Longer Damaged Goods
Dear Eddie:
How dare you! I don’t know what’s wrong with you! Who would do that to a child? What kind of sick pervert would touch a child like that?!? You are a monster and you don’t deserve to live. I wish you had never been born. You are disgusting! It is never ok to force sex on a child. Children are not sexually attractive. You diseased, filth-ridden, deplorable man! You should suffer for what you did to me, to all of us. You should be tortured slowly over years for the pain you inflicted on us. You are not a follower of Christ! You should never pretend to be…. all those years of preaching while raping little girls… you are disgusting, filthy and an abomination to humanity. You should not call yourslef a man – that is an insult to masculinity. True men protect those they love – they do not torture them. True men do not use their strength to coerce – they use it to liberate. You do not even deserve to be called human – none of what you did to us was humane. I hope you rot in prison – know that you belong there!
Sincerely,
No Longer Damaged Goods
The Dream:
I am spending time with my uncle, Eddie, and his 3 daughters. We’re at my parent’s house listening to some Southern Gospel music and debating on the merits of the old Southern Gospel music vs modern Christian Rock.. We’re all laughing, teasing and so happy. We’re flipping through CD’s and my MP3 player playlist… It’s a good day and I feel so safe and loved.
So what makes this a nightmare?
My uncle is a rapist and a child molester and in my dream I don’t know this… in my dream I haven’t remembered what he has done to me and I don’t yet know what he is doing to his beautiful daughters.
The part of me that is always me (no matter what I am dreaming) is terrified and screaming at the dream me to get out of there ! I hate that I can feel so safe and terrified, so innocent and soiled all at the same time. Most of all I hate how much this dream has set me back. I hate how vulnerable I suddenly feel. I hate how I can barely accept touch. I hate how I want to hide away and not face all of this. I hate the temptation to morph back into that robot of a woman and pretend that everything is fine even though I can barely breathe.
So what’s the plan? I am going to breathe in and out. I am going to face my fears. I am going to feel this and not be a coward or a zombie. I am going to admit that I have been hurt – terribly – and it is ok to be afraid for a while. I am going to allow my husband to comfort me and allow myself some room to be vulnerable. But most importantly, I am going to go through this. No short-cuts or detours. Because that is the only way I am ever really going to find peace.
I gave one sharp cry when I died. You didn’t even notice. You were so busy basking in your glory that I sank below notice even a you drove the knife home. When you cleaved my soul in two I wanted to scream. I wanted my cry to pierce you to your heart and shatter your blessed reality. How nice it would have been to see the horror of your deed marked plainly on your face for all to se as I writhed beneath you in my throes of death. You in your stupor probably mistook my cry for one of pleasure. Filthy creature that you are, so drunk on the exhiliration of conquring me, you never noticed the look of pity. I pity you. Even in my death, even in my agony I pittied you. To the very marrow of my bone I felt sorry for you. What could have driven you to these extreme troughs of misery? You sank into the abyss of mankind and you shall never again rise to the surface. I am sorry for you because even in your act of conquer, Thanatos found you. He found you and instead of taking your life, he took your family, he took your job, he took your respect, he took your calling and left you naked and begging for his skeletal embrace. He will not take your soul. It is a neat little hell you have created for your-self, is it not? You will die in hell as you have lived…
I gave one sharp cry when I died. That cry will echo through your soul forever.
captivatingbitter 