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Not Another Post!

15 Mar

It is true, I post alot and I post things that I think in everyday life. I share my innermost thoughts and share some very sensitive things that not everyone wants to read. I know how some of the things that I say must feel to others, some roll their eyes and think that I am sharing way too much and care not to read about my life, while others (I have heard) think that it is inspiring and brave to share my story.

Now, Anxiety plays a roll in my life DAILY, while depression comes along every once in a while. But the true fact of the matter is that I cannot get out of my own head. Every day I refer to my abuse as a child, every day I wonder who I would have been without it happening to me. Every day I worry about the same thing happening to my children, which causes panic in me. I worry the most about this. I have little “worst case scenarios” that play in my head every time they go play outside. I think of someone preying on them, taking them and abusing them and worse. I shudder every time and it takes everything that I have in my to not call them back inside where I have constant control of the environment.

Today while I was preparing supper, I was thinking of how they will turn out when they are grown, how they will look, what kind of men they will be when they are older. I daydream things like that while I am alone. I predict what they will look like and what career they will strive for. Then, Mr. Anxiety shows up and I start wondering how I am going to cope letting them go….letting them move out of the house and be their own people. Having their own homes and going off to university, and their safety. This is what I worry about the most. Who is going to be there to keep them safe? Car accidents, freak things happen, and even murders. What the hell would I do then? I don’t know if I could bear it. I know, it turns selfish, it sounds selfish as I read what I write, but  I cannot help it…..this is the monster called Anxiety. This is catastrophic thoughts. This is a disorder. I cannot switch it off.

I am trying. I am really trying. I meditate and I am looking in to learning Reiki. I want to become a Reiki master. It would fit well with my husbands Holistic Nutrition and I dream that we can have our own little slice of “heaven” and do things the Holistic way and be able to sustain our finances while doing it. Ah, to dream!

But,I do think it’s  getting better, I seem to have  more of a grip on reality, which is what it feels like I have a lack of when having an anxiety attack.

Yes, it is yet again, another post about anxiety, about my struggle…..but it is real. It never leaves me.

I was trying to explain to my husband how it feels every day to be in my head. What I think of and how I cope. I told him this ” the first blowjob I ever gave was when I was 3 years old”. That is a hard pill to swallow. That makes you imagine it, to see it and fills you with so many emotions. Yes, it is true. I remember what it looked like and I remember how I felt and the hesitation and ultimately the trust that I put into that one person who I was raised like a sister to. It fills me with all sorts of emotions, and to let someone know how it feels is impossible unless they have been through it, but this is the only way that I could  verbalize the actual brutality of what was done to me. Plus, I think that it is a way to start getting prepared to tell my story to someone else who could really help me. Yes, Mark made me do  all sorts of things and he touched me where he shouldn’t have. The one good thing that I can say is that he did not mess with my virginity. He abused me from the time I was 2 or 3 until I was 5, and then again when I was 10. Only to have my first real sexual experience end up in rape, that was another story with another abuser.

Yes, anxiety is in my life forever. Yes, I will talk about it again. No, I will not shut up. It is real. Yes, it is REAL. I am jumpy, I scare easily and I feel like I am always scared. I try everyday to be better. I suffer everyday. I see the depths of my own hell as no one else can see.

I have taken you on a little voyage of my reality. The glasses are far from rose coloured. I feel better when I know I am just listened to. I feel justified in my fears and weirdness and quirks when people know my story. They see the “why”, not just me as I am now, as the result of the past, the pain. It’s a hard story to tell, but I know it must be hard to read as well. People are either disgusted and don’t want to read it, or are sympathetic and want to know my story or they are disaster whores, the ones who love to see the gore, who dive right into other people’s pain to feel better about their life.

I am okay with it all. As they say, everyone has a story, this is yet another post about it, but it is my Story. My Life as it is.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Cons and Cons

9 Mar

Lately I have been inspired to get out of my everyday routine, to do things that I don’t normally do on a day to day basis. I posted it on facebook to see if my friends had any ideas that I wouldn’t think of. I got a few responses for me to volunteer. I thought, that is perfect! Now that I work part time and I am more relaxed, what a great way to give back, to fulfill my everlasting need to help anybody (animals too) in need. This inspired me to get apolice request from my children’s  school to be a volunteer. I had to get the request form and go to the police station to fill out the proper paper work and pay the $11 to get the police check done. Well, while I was there, the thought popped into my brain to make a statement to the police about being molested when I was young.

This idea brings forth all sorts of feelings. I want to do it, I want it on the record that he is a pedophile, I want it to be hard for him to live anywhere and to maintain a job with dignity. I have that hatred still….but I also want to do it because the other victims of his senseless acts can have a voice. I know of two and possibly three others who have been harmed by him. With this being said, it would knock open a huge door that has about a dozen different doors behind it. My caregiver who is the molestors mother, was a foster parent. I don’t even want to think about how many other children he has harmed and of those, who had been previously harmed and then subjected to more harm? Oh, the pain just keeps going.

1366505-68386-img-648-a542d8629a-1484648097I think about the lengthy statement I will have to give and subject myself to the harm all over again. To relive it, to tell the whole story. The whole story…. the unrevised version, the clear memories which put me into a deep state of depression for months on end. I have to tell that to someone, who will write it down and ask questions. It makes me feel queasy just thinking about the feeling of telling it and reliving it. Then I think about my family. I don’t know how these things go, so, would there be a court hearing? Would I have to publicly testify in front of him? Would his mother be there supporting him and how would I face her? Which leads me to more questions than I ever thought of.

Did she know? Did she really know in the deep recesses of her brain and just brush it off like she was being paranoid? How could this happen, to not only me, mind you….but to others without anyone knowing about anything?

I remember a time when I was about 10 or 11 and he came to me at night, three times in a row. The first time I told his mother, she cried and said it was her fault and that if I told that I might not be able to go back into her care. I was young, I loved her like a second mother and I couldn’t bear not going back to her…..so I said nothing. Now that I think of it, I don’t think she spoke of it either. I can’t recall, but if something was said, do you think that I would be let back into the house with HIM? NO! At this point, he was around 20 or so and was dealing with demons of his own and abusing drugs and alcohol and creating demons in children, like me.

I don’t want to blame her. And I didn’t mean it to be portrayed as so, but these are the honest questions that are coming to me while I debate with myself about going official with everything. I know this is a heavy burden to bear and I get it. Sometimes the effects that it will have on other people’s lives is just too much. By him doing that to me and others, and if I go to the police about it, could rip apart so many lives because I said something. I know in the first place it was him that has caused all of this, but really, the weight is on my right now. I have two other people who are ready and willing to stand up if I chose to do it. They have given me all of their information which I can pass on in  order for him to be charged even further. I have this option.

If I don’t do it, am I weak? Am I going to be the one who doesn’t stand up and then others like me will feel like they shouldn’t either? Do I hold that responsibility? Is that on me? Am I a source of strength for others? If I don’t go through with this, am I then a source of weakness? Look at Amy, she was weak and didn’t stand up and say it, she didn’t have the intestinal fortitude to believe in herself and the justice system, she didn’t stand up for all of the others who either have been or could be harmed by him again.

I know that opening my mouth to the officials can made drastic changes in a lot of lives other than my own. Alot of pain will be brought to the surface, alot of anger and relationships will be shredded. With my sensitive mental state, could I do it? Could I endure it? Which also leads me to another honest question….. am I using my anxiety as a crutch to not deal with everything else? Is my anxiety a product of the abuse? Am I dealing with mental and physical anguish by creating a mental disorder? Was my mind just not strong enough to deal with the truth? Who am I really?

questionSo many questions. So many truths to find out and so many hurtful realizations of myself through reasoning whether I should do this or not. It seems like every option is a con. There are no pros and cons here, only cons and cons. I know it seems like nothing good can come out of any option I choose, and I am not sure there is anything good in a situation like this.

At work this morning, it was all that was going through my mind. All I can do it to let you know how it feels, what I am going through in hopes that it helps someone else. If even one person understands or is going through the same thing, that thing you are going through becomes a “normal” feeling and response. Hearing someone say something that you feel has such a forceful effect on your emotion, it can bring you to tears.

I still don’t know what to do, but that is my struggle. My maze of thoughts, feelings,justiceactions and reactions to find my way through. I will make a decision, with a couple of professional opinions and some friendly advice, in the end I will make the decision that is right for me. I refuse to make a decision that I will be unhappy with. I need to think logically and not emotionally about this, for justice is blind and I have vision. So I must close my eyes and think long and hard.