Me & a Gun
So I finally started to talk to my therapist about the sexual abuse I suffered as a child. Mostly, because my slowly settling mind has allowed me to think of it, as well as this summer reminds me of that summer.
The memories are everywhere, peonies, tiger lilies, cherries, ferns, apple trees, the buzzing of power lines in heat, the stark sun of late July.
I always hated summer. Only now, I finally realized why.
I'd spent so long not thinking about this, not wanting to be bothered with yet more memories, that I couldn't connect the dots. Now, with time to think, the memories come flooding in.
There are some I will not let in. They are locked behind a door I shall not ever open. I have guessed at what is there, and it's so bad I don't want to see it.
But one of the more interesting things with the Trileptal I'm taking is that I sleep, and with sleep, come dreams.
BAD dreams. Clear dreams I can't get out of. Dreams that feel like lives lived.
Last night, after finally broaching the topic with my therapist, finally explaining why I cannot stomach to see a real cherry, explaining why having my picture taken bothers me, I dreampt I was being raped. All night long.
I couldn't escape, I couldn't get free, i couldn't get to my husband and child. When I finally did, only because they let me go, I found a book that seemed to contain good things people have said about me, thought about me, and it was titled "Mind over Mind"
I think I'm healing. I just wish it didn't make me want to cry.
The memories are everywhere, peonies, tiger lilies, cherries, ferns, apple trees, the buzzing of power lines in heat, the stark sun of late July.
I always hated summer. Only now, I finally realized why.
I'd spent so long not thinking about this, not wanting to be bothered with yet more memories, that I couldn't connect the dots. Now, with time to think, the memories come flooding in.
There are some I will not let in. They are locked behind a door I shall not ever open. I have guessed at what is there, and it's so bad I don't want to see it.
But one of the more interesting things with the Trileptal I'm taking is that I sleep, and with sleep, come dreams.
BAD dreams. Clear dreams I can't get out of. Dreams that feel like lives lived.
Last night, after finally broaching the topic with my therapist, finally explaining why I cannot stomach to see a real cherry, explaining why having my picture taken bothers me, I dreampt I was being raped. All night long.
I couldn't escape, I couldn't get free, i couldn't get to my husband and child. When I finally did, only because they let me go, I found a book that seemed to contain good things people have said about me, thought about me, and it was titled "Mind over Mind"
I think I'm healing. I just wish it didn't make me want to cry.
I'm crying with you. Just wanted you to know that.
Posted by
Anonymous |
3:42 p.m.
i know the feeling ... especially the bit about not wanting your picture taken ... about the all-nite nightmare sessions.
congratulations for doing the work. it's worth it.
Posted by
Anonymous |
7:30 p.m.
I'm so sorry you're going through this...went through it in the first place.
The healing pain is so very hard. I'll be keeping good thoughts that the jagged parts smooth out soon.
Posted by
Anonymous |
8:22 p.m.
I am so sorry, I cannot even imagine the pain you must go through. I love the end of your dream though, very powerful.
Posted by
Anonymous |
9:31 p.m.
I don't know what to say. I want to cry too for your pain.
Posted by
Anonymous |
3:15 a.m.
I'm sorry to hear you are struggling with this, but this a great healing. Think how much stronger and how much more you will be able to appreciate life once you come to terms with this part of your life and can move on from it.
Good for you for taking on the past!
Posted by
Anonymous |
7:51 a.m.
aww, thanks guys. I wasn't looking for pity, just trying to vent those dreams, and those memories.
It also makes me want to never let my girls out of the house. It makes me angry when people think sex offenders are always strangers, or equate breastfeeding with inviting abuse. It makes me angry that people have to be silent about this, that kids are still afraid to tell their parents.
My girls won't be. And I also know that if it ever does happen, I WILL rip the person limb from limb. I will not allow it.
Posted by
thordora |
10:25 a.m.
I can relate. Even when the son of a bitch goes to jail? Justice doesn't seem to be done. Of course OUR judicial system is so wussy when it comes to sex offenders. A year in jail. Whatever.
And somehow, the pain never seems to go away. It's like scar tissue. It can heal, but the memory will always remain, you know? Makes us stronger though. Battle scars, perhaps?
Meh.
Either way, I'm here for you girl. It's not easy, especially when you have daughter(s) of your own. That's why I dread finding a babysitter.
Posted by
Anonymous |
11:12 a.m.
Wow, that sounds like a hard road but one that has a very positive light at the end of the tunnel. You're definitely getting there, Dor! :)
Posted by
Anonymous |
10:23 p.m.