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01-02-01
02-02-01
03-02-01
04-02-01 05-02-01
We have had to come to the realization lately, that what happened to us wasn't an accident. It wasn't about lack of impulse control, or the inability to control anger. We are learning more, getting more depth of understanding, and it appears that our family set out, methodically to destroy us. I know that sounds over-dramatic. But my mother and grandparents made plans, they did not just act on the spur of the moment. They spend hours planning their games, collecting bugs, waiting for meat to spoil. These weren't impulse activities. They had to wait, they enjoyed the activities more if there was planning involved. My mother, not so long term in her planning, would work out the best way to break us. Yes she would lose her temper, she would run at us anger blazing. But even in those moments her mind was working, she would be thinking of things that would hurt, things that would hurt more than anything physical she could do. So what does that mean. We have always
found comfort in the idea our family were just sick people, people that
had bad experiences that led them to be unable to control themselves.
Now we are faced with another reality. That they not only enjoyed
hurting us, but would make special efforts to be as cruel as possible.
How are we meant to deal with that? I don't really know where to
put this information. Now to sit with it without it devastating us
totally. I think that's part of the reason we are struggling so much
right now. There is no way to understand this, to excuse their behaviour.
A big part of me wants to say we will never have any contact with them.
But here's the hard thing, the thing I know confuses a lot of people.
I don't want to lose my family. I don't want to have no one, and
everyone has a family. Ok so that's a myth, but it does feel like
it's my last chance, the final failing to somehow not even have them.
I want the impossible. I want my mother to acknowledge what she did,
to apologise and then learn to be better. But I can't make her, I
can't force her to do something she doesn't want to do. A couple
of Christmases ago my mother told me that although she can remember everything
about my brothers childhood, mine is a blank, she then went on to say,
"but I am having nightmares about it". So she doesn't want to know,
doesn't want to remember. Her denial is a comfort to her, and yet
in many ways causing her nightmares. But that's not my problem.
I just know she will never look at what she did. So we are lost,
we are without family just don't want to admit that yet.
Learning to speak, something that it sounded like I had done years ago as an infant. But we are realising saying words and speaking are two different things. We have not truly used our voice for such a long time, terrified about what might be thought of us if we did. We are so concerned with how others view us, how correct and nice we are. We are terrified of not being liked, of being wrong, so we keep ourselves hidden, never truly speaking. All these opinions and views hidden away from the world, out of fear. So now we want our voice back, we want to yell, to speak our truth. But old habits are hard to break, and to speak is a struggle. Not only to do it but to not hurt ourselves afterwards, not spend the next few hours beating ourselves down. Time has come to speak of our lives, to let the light shine on that, own it as ours and not be afraid of it. The things that happened to us, although were not our choice, are our responsibility now. We are in charge now, we are the ones that have power. We need to own our truth and to deal with it. So why do we fear the words, fear of telling our truth. We are crying out for someone to listen, but when given the time and opportunity we just go silent, words can't be spoken, and its rather annoying. Why do I still doubt everyone, worry about their safety their trustworthiness. On Wednesday when we got home from therapy I was a mess, well we all were, but I am usually the best at keeping it together, and I couldn't. I spoke to Joy, got upset about my life, it was only kinda bad, I mean I did it and felt terrible but being messy around Joy felt at the time ok. But then the next day I come online and she isn't there. I spend the next 4 hours sure she has run, that my pain, even that small amount was just too much for her to handle. That she had left us. Now she had had to just go out, take her mother somewhere and couldn't get online. There was nothing bad, nothing to worry about and when she came back things were just fine. But we just assumed she hated us, because we weren't all together. That she couldn't handle our shit. That's such a big issue for me. I am always worried Joy will leave because we are too messed up, that we are too damaged. There are times when I am sure it would be better if she, if everyone, just left me. We have been so damaged, and we will never have a "normal" relationship. I know Joy loves me, cares about us all. So why when she was later than usual did the feelings of abandonment rush so quickly to the surface? Well that's an easy one to answer.
We are sure no one can stand us. We are use to people leaving us,
used to people saying we are too crazy to be around. Why else do
we spend so much time hiding ourselves away. Because unless we can
do the calm and together facade then we are too much. And we don't
believe Joy would be any different, we hope she is, we hope we can have
someone that cares about us. But all we think is that we are too
hurt. Everyone has walked away from us, everyone. We are use
to it, and because of this we judge people on the actions of others.
I know Joy isn't the people we have known. She knows we are who we
are. She has told me she is different. And most of this is
the fact everyone just doesn't appear to care or even think of us.
We have heard nothing from Andrew and Chrissie, people we had thought of
as friends from DP and other email lists haven't noticed our absence have
made no contact. We just disappear of the face of the earth.
We aren't important enough for them to remember. Invisible people
that are only thought of when something is needed.
I know I am probably sounding like a broken record here at the moment, but the thing is it hurts a lot and I just need to keep saying it. It would probably help to say it to certain people, but lets face it we are too chicken-shit to allow that to happen. So instead, we write it here over and over. Hoping that somehow it will lessen the hurt, make us able to move on. It doesn't seemed to have worked yet, so maybe tonight it will. I hate this feeling of invisibility, of not counting in anyone's life, of not being important enough, holding enough meaning to be missed or thought about. I think DP was the proverbial last straw. We thought we had a couple of friends there, we thought we had touched people, become someone they would think about occasionally. But it seems that all of them had little interest in me. We keep getting our hopes up, thinking maybe this time we will get a friend, someone that likes to talk to us be with us. And yet every time it ends the same way. I do think if we hadn't had it happen so many times it wouldn't be a problem now. And this coming on the heels of being forgotten by Andrew and Chrissie doesn't help. It talks little to ring, drop me an email, or instant message. I don't think it's that much to expect that I am not the only one making an effort. Yes I have this whole issue around believing no one could possibly like me. People see only interested in us when they can get something. This is about the people in my real life now, I realize as I write this that the hurt from losing touch with those friends I have made online is only a slight hurt compounded by years of it happening real life. So back to what I was saying. People seemed to be friendly, interested in us, but soon it became obvious to us something was wrong. We discovered we were either the local entertainment, or we were being used for the things they needed. When we pulled back a little, still offering friendship but no longer being the doormat that would supply other things the friendship died off. When we would around after then, give them sexual favours they were all over us, claiming meaningful friendship. But that stopped and we never hear from them. It becomes too much of a hassle to ring or to message us. And we are left feeling alone and empty, used and thrown away. We want friendship, we crave it, but it ends like this, with us hurt and the other people moving on to the next person. I also think some of these alone feelings
are coming from the fact that lately we haven't been to well. The
chest pains happened twice last month, and now our back is playing up again.
We realised the night of the last chest pains, when we panicked and thought
we were dying, that no one would know. That we could be lying dead
for a least a week without anyone really knowing. Joy would be the
only one to notice our absence and with her being half the world away there
would be little chance of her knowing what was going on. Its scary
to know no one would miss you enough to worry. And if the pain continues
down my leg I may end up having another back surgery. When I went
through the first I was all alone, no one knew I was having the surgery,
no one visited me, no one worried how the surgery would go. It was
our first major surgery and we faced it all alone, now we are worrying
that once more we will have to go through the same thing. These fears
add to that sense of isolation and loneliness. They make us feel
lost in a world full of people. That we have no contact, no grounding
with this world at all. We don't want to die alone, to have no one
grieve our passing. We could just disappear of the face of the earth
and I doubt that anyone, other than Joy would even notice. Morbid
thoughts to go to bed on.
Mum and Dad are down tomorrow. Really don't want to have to deal with that. Have them come to this house, try to behave normal knowing what we know right now. Earlier today a child showed us what happened to her, our mother molesting her, raping her with such ordinary objects. The look of pure hatred in her face as she hurt us, but not only that, the arousal that she was feeling, the pleasure both mental and sexual she took from what she was doing. Its awful. We used to say she was just physically abusing us by sexual means. It made it easier to understand. There is little to no discussion out there about mothers that sexually abuse their daughters. It didn't make sense. It didn't seem possible. Everything was so easier to understand when we were able to label it, to make sense of it. And now what do we do about it, what do we think. How can we sit comfortably with the fact my mother derived sexual pleasure from molesting us, and making us perform for her. And more importantly how do we stay around her, how can we face her without screaming and wanting to flatten her. We are slowly realising that it is not healthy for us to be with them. But still that fear, that fear of having no one, not even a family is hard to shake. I don't want to lose them, I know they aren't great, that they were sick twisted people, but still I don't want not to have a family. It's probably hard to understand, hard for people outside of me to realise this. Everyone has always said to us, that they don't understand why we still have contact with them. Some have even questioned whether we are telling the truth because we chose to remain in contact. I can understand that, if they are as evil as we make out then wouldn't anyone run from that evil. But there is more to it, there always is. We had years of indoctrination into this family. Constantly being told we belonged to them, that we/I wasn't a person in my own right, I was the thing they owned, they gave birth to. I had to stay I had to be the daughter they wanted me to be. Then, by the time I got to adulthood and started to remember the past the abuse had majorly lessened, it had become insidious, constant but minor put-downs and insults. It was hard to see that as abuse. Add on top of that this need, to belong somewhere, to be loved and we felt trapped. Trapped in a family that wasn't good for us but still gave us a foundation a place to belong. I know how hard it is to leave unhealthy
things behind. They feel comfortable and safe. It is in a lot
of ways easier to remain sick rather than fight to get well. It takes
courage and risks to get better, to give up old habits. The old habit
of trying to be the good daughter to make my family happy and proud of
me, to be the best I could for them and maybe just maybe they would love
me, is a hard one to give up. It's incredibly hard and heart breaking
to say good-bye to the idea of family. To go off into the world alone
and unloved. But slowly over time you have to make that decision,
we have had to find our strength to leave behind what isn't good for us
and find what is. We still have contact, yes, but far less than we
did. We no longer feel the need to report everything in our lives
to our mother, to keep her informed, to keep her happy. We want to
have our freedom. We don't see them unless they come down.
We make no enough to contact them. Last christmas will be the last
one we spend with them. I don't know how we will handle it this year,
but we don't want to go through that anymore. We are stronger now,
we are better informed. And slowly we are finding our strength outside
of what they deemed was acceptable for us.
Awful stinking horrible day. We spent it with our parents. They arrived about 11 and from then it went downhill. What gives my mother the right to think this house is hers that she can do what she wants in it. I suppose a lot of mothers are like that, they think their daughters need to do what they say, the way they do things. But this is our goddamn house. We have a right to do things as I say. If I don't want the groceries in the kitchen then don't bring them in, if I don't want my kitchen brush used outside in the dirt I don't want it. These things might seem small, but it the context it is big. All our life we have not allowed to think for ourselves, we are not allowed to challenge our mother. She comes into this house, our safe domain and acts like its her. She got shitty when we said we wanted our way. Refused to speak for 30 minutes when I told her there was not enough bench space for the groceries. Well she still put them down, pushing everything to one side. But then she sulked. This is the thing, she's such a child in so many ways, she won't take responsibility for her own feelings and expects everyone to keep her happy. We have all learnt to kowtow to her, our father even does it. He has done it all his life, keeping mother happy, making sure she doesn't get angry, at any cost. And that usually meant allowing her to hurt us. He would never stand up to her, would never disagree or challenge her behaviour. She is the key that we all revolve around, we all remain unwell just so not to threaten her existence and I am damn sick of it. I can't stand this anymore. I can't
be with this family. It hurts too much, just 5 hours today and everyone
is shaken and upset. They never loved us, that's so damn obvious.
And they still don't. My mother spent 3 hours today in town, trying
to find the perfect present for my brother, she ended up getting him this
amazing rugby book for $45. For my birthday she sent me $10 cash.
Am I bitter about that? Big yes! I don't want to be nothing.
I don't want to be this less thing. I want my family to love me,
but they never will. I know that now, I know they will never love
me, they will never think of me as a valued part of them. Maybe the
time has finally come to move on. Or maybe it's just that the pain
is so fresh. I don't want to be alone. But I will always be
alone in the family. It's the worse kind of lonely, when you are
with other people and still alone. And that is only exaggerated when
it is your family that you are with. I don't want to hurt anymore.
I don't want others here to keep feeling their pain. Everyone has
been so hurt again. We keep thinking they will be better this time,
but they will never change. I can't keep hoping for that, I can't
be responsible for them anymore. We have worked a long time to get
better, to get to here, where we are finally dealing with our lives.
It was terrible, it was heartbreaking work, it hurt sometimes more than
the past did. But we dragged ourselves through it. We wanted
something better. Our parents don't. They aren't willing to
face their demons. Hell, the doctor told my mother she needs
therapy of some kind. But she refuses. She wants her denial,
and when it breaks away momentarily she panics. They are weak people
that will never face their past. But that isn't our responsibility.
The only responsibility we have now is to heal our own wounds.
We run, it's what we are good at. Whenever anything is too hard, too painful, too scary, we take off. Maybe not physically, but one way or another we run. We have run away from our past, from relationships. Its this theory that if we can run soon enough, far away enough that nothing will catch us, and therefore nothing will hurt. But at this stage of life, we have run out of running room. There is no where to run anymore. So we are standing still and letting all the hurt catch up to us, suffocate us. that's what it feels like, the past, all the hurts we have ever run from, all the things that we would now run from, they are swamping us, trying to drag us down. Like something from a horror movie, the person standing there whilst thousands of little creatures pull her down and destroy her. It is a sigh of getting better, supposedly. That we are able to face up to our past, to deal with it instead of running. But it doesn't feel like an improvement. It feels like a disaster, one we won't survive. We don't have the skills to deal with this, we have been to busy running to know what to do when we stand still. So we want to run, but we can't. We don't know what to do now, other than to fall into pieces and hope we can put ourselves together at the end. The thing is, that we don't feel the way we are is acceptable. We think that our pain, our multiplicity, is just too much for people. Maybe that's why we are so alone, because the real us is not appropriate to us. When we meet someone new, we put on an image, that of the person that is so in control, that isn't overrun with problems and issues. We come across so together. Then as we get to know them, as we spend more time with them, we can't keep it all out of place, all hidden from view. The cracks start to show, the others come out more, or more truly are seen more. And the person begins to wonder what happened to the one they like, the person they knew. But she was only an image. She was the "ok" person we wish we could be, the person we can be for short bursts of time. What we are, is someone incredibly damaged, someone with so many problems. And no one really wants to deal with that for too long. They like the image, they want that person, but she isn't real, she doesn't exist. So slowly they move on, they walk away wondering what went wrong. Seeing us as the damage person we are, and not really wanting to be with that. We want to be the healthy person we pretend
to be, running enabled us to do that. But it's not the real us, and
to get healthy we need to be that damaged person. For only by being
real can we deal with the reality of the damaged caused by our past.
We have to face the pain, we have to accept our lives, and find a way to
live with that, find a way to get more than surviving and running.
We have to stand within the turmoil, and let ourselves feel what we need
to feel, to finally feel the emotions that have been kept away for years.
Our family tried to destroy us, and that is a horrific thing, but we didn't
allow ourselves to feel that horror, or even acknowledge the things done
to us. So now as an adult, someone damaged so, we are standing still.
We don't care that we will probably lose all that we have held so dear.
But those things, they were not what we wanted, they were things we needed
to keep ourselves running. But we don't know how to handle losing
another lot of friends, another lot of people that just want us to move
on, to be fine. I wish I could do that, I wish I could be the person
they want, but I can't. I can't uphold the image, not now, not with
everything fallen apart. My acting skills have gone away, and playing
the normal one isn't something else I can do. But it just all means
more aloneness, more heartbreak.
Well we are under orders to write a journal tonight.... hello darling *smile* Ok so what do I write about? That's hard because I don't want to think anymore. We are so tired of the grief and hurt here. Knowing our life, knowing things we have long since avoided accepting. How do we deal with any of that. I know now the extent, the totality of the abuse. There wasn't one thing, one area that wasn't touched by these people. I wonder sometimes if anyone could possibly believe it all. It seems so extreme, too much to of happened to one person. I watch on tv here recently, of a young child beaten to death by his mother, for not eating his dinner. It sounded so familiar, an echo from my life. But why then did our abuse not kill us, what happened that we were able to keep living when others were unable to. I just don't get how so much could happen to us and yet we survived. I don't understand what it was that made these people do that, nor how we didn't just collapse, fall under their abuse and die. But with all the fears of believability, we know it was real, we don't look upon our memories with blind acceptance. We look at them with real light, we investigate them. We know that they are real, the denial has crumbled away. And what is left is a sinking feeling of hurt and grief. We have lost everything now. It feels that, that our life, any good thing we have held on has falling away. With all that pain is a desire. To tell the world. To stand in the middle of the Octagon and tell everyone what was done to me, what we survived to make it to this point. I don't want any of it to be a secret anymore, I am tired of holding onto the pain, being the quiet sufferer. It's not fair, I didn't do anything to deserve this treatment so why should I be the one still paying for it. Why do I have to stay quiet as if it is my dirty secret, as if I am the one that should feel shame. The people whose fault it really is have either died without taking responsibility or live happy normal lives. No one has been held accountable, no one but us have paid for what happened. I want to have this life, we dream of it
all the time. Nothing special, a job we enjoy, a partner that loves
us, a home. Its not wide dreams of riches or power. It's just
a normal life. That's what I want, a normal life. But I can't
just get it. We have to work to get the basics. We have to
struggle for every minute detail. Our life will never be easy, we
will never just find a world of peace and contentment. Instead we
have to fight through all the damage done to us, we have to rebuild ourselves
piece by piece. It isn't fair but we can't change that. We
can't be born into a normal family and have a normal life. This is
the one we were given, and if we are going to live it then it's up to us
to do the necessary work.
Well last night turned into a technical disaster. Don't even know if it's worth doing this today, since I have no idea if I can get it online. Anyway back to last night. I created a few new pages and thought I would get them online before working on last night's journal. I open up my cute ftp to find it has expired, I thought made that was the trial period one, so no big deal, I will just download the free versions that are online. I open up my internet, to find I can't connect with the download site. I don't know if it's because I updated my internet explorer, it seems a coincidence. But if so why is it only that site and my site that I can't get to. I managed very late last night to get to the hosting site and was lucky to find the place to upload the pages but I don't know if it worked. Right now I can no nothing about my web site, and we are worried we have lost it and will have to find another hosting place and start all over again. I know everyone hated geocities, not sure why exactly, but at least there I never had any trouble with it. But I liked 50megs. I felt comfortable there. I am just really annoyed. Can't concentrate on anything else but trying to work out what is wrong and I don't have a clue. I hate that feeling, I need to know what to do, that sense of confusion and frustration is not one that sits comfortable with us. On another note. We are beginning to speak out about what happened to us. The pages we got down for our web site last night were about the abuse, and more will be added. And we sent this list, a list of all we could speak of, to an email support group. I have been unable to look at that group today, because of the fear and shame. But we sent it, we spoke those words to the world. Ok that list is a sheltered and safe part of the world, and it's not like screaming it out to everyone, but it's the closest and safest to doing that. It was an easy list to write, we just shut off our emotions and typed it out. But now the next day all those feelings coming swelling up, the fear, the shame, the pain, and a concern to do so was just being over dramatic and self important. I talked to Alison yesterday about that, about our belief that wanting to talk about our past is about being self important. She says its not, its about wanting support and to be heard, to no longer hold a secret. But its not like I will get a lot of support, especially if I can't be around the list that I told. And what of real people, do I want to risk freaking them out, or worst having them say or do nothing, like it is nothing, like I am discussing the weather. I don't expect gushings of emotions, but I want some show of emotion. Shit horror and disgust in me would be better than the empty nothingness I have gotten in the past. Well that's my journal for today, no idea
if I will ever get to upload it or not. Think I might reload the
whole site onto geocities, and just run them both for a while. Just
so I don't feel so lost again.
Well 50megs is working again. It's a relief. I hated having it go wrong, or more to the point I hated not being able to fix it. Must of been a problem on their end. So now everything is back to normal, all the new pages are up and in place. I will continue to work on the site, there is so much that needs to be done. I wonder if I should keep it on geocities, just in case it goes pear shaped again. Don't know yet. It surprises me that I am still working on it, usually by this point we shut down, put it aside and move on to something else. I know this is about the past, and had a lot back then to do with being multiple. It was hard to stay on task, to complete tasks, when you were switching without any communication. The person coming out would have no idea what the person there was doing, so a lot of things would be forgotten, and then there was the risk of being punished. Doing anything was opening us up, making us vulnerable, do it bad and we would be emotionally abused, do it well and we would be physically abused. Therefore no one wanted to do anything, and when we started something the abuse or fear of it made us stop. So we got the label of someone that never finishes anything. Why start that, its not like you are going to finish it. We were told that so much, whenever anything new came along, the first thing said was about us not finishing. Because we were nothing, we had no existence, we would cling to any concept or label that was given us, making it something to incorporate, and therefore we would be something. Back then the only things we were were negative things. But it was better to be something bad, than to be nothing at all. Maybe we are finally separating from the
past, finally becoming a person in this world. W don't want to be
just those things, be just someone something bad happened to. We
want more. We want to self determine. And part of that is not
hiding the abuse, not being ashamed to claim myself as a survivor, but
I don't want to be the abused person. There is a difference.
A survivor acknowledges what happened to them, fights against all the messages
from the past, and learns to live as a healthy whole person or people.
but the abused person, they tend to sit in all their pain, wanting to be
taken care of and never challenging the negative parts of their life.
They accept it, they make excuses for not dealing with it. But all
I see is someone that is too scared to take responsibility for themselves,
or too comfortable with the victim label, since it gets them what they
want. We can never do that. We need something more. But
in the past that meant pretending we weren't a survivor, it meant being
like everyone else and hiding anything different about myself. I
can not do that anymore. I need to acknowledge the past, to feel
it and live it before I can move onto the future. I need to be both
now, a survivor that has still not moved away from the abuse. It
has still got a hold on me, effects me in countless ways, but I am a survivor,
a warrior because I want more now, and am willing to do the work to achieve
that.
This weekend is the hen's night of a friend getting married next week. The whole thing, wedding and hen's night has been a total humiliation for us. Bringing into the light just how damaged and poor we are. I don't believe the other people involved truly understand that, and I know my issues, especially the monetary ones is making me look like a spoil sport. The hen's night is on Saturday. They have organised a whole night, and of course I was invited. But this whole night includes, a meal and getting a gift, then going out for a night on the piss. I have already gone without groceries this week so I can afford $20 dollars for the night. However that includes $10 for a taxi home. So on $10 I am suppose to afford a $7 meal, a gift of lingerie, and alcohol for the night. And that aint going to happen. It was suggested that I could just go for the meal and not eat anything. I can't believe that suggestion was made. Don't they have any idea how humiliating and degrading it is to sit at a table whilst people eat around you. We had to do that as children, at my brother's birthday. The rest of the family and friends would eat their meals, all that special food whilst we had to sit there and watch. We had no choice back then but to suffer through the humiliation, I am not going to allow us to voluntarily go through that again. So now I am going to be phoned, and told where they will be. This will mean having to get on a bus, to be brave and get down to town, and then find our way to the rest of them. That's another $2 out of our funds, and that's only if buses are running that day. Will need to look into that. It annoys me that there has been no suggestion about picking us up, we only live about a 5 minute drive from town. But it goes to the fact that we aren't important, that no one would make extra considerations for us. I would personally choose not to participate in this hen's night. But the people are Kat's friends, and she feels it's important to make an appearance. Then there is the wedding itself. Oh the damage done to some of us over that. Kate had her feelings hurt big time, and probably only worse because it came so soon after the mother trampling on her. Kate had offered to make the wedding cake, but someone else was planned for that. The first time Kate thought, fine it doesn't matter. She then decided to make a heart shaped lolly cake for them as our wedding present. It was all we could afford. But later it fell through and the people involved spent a lot of time with other friends organising a replacement cake. They decided on lolly cake, therefore making our gift obsolete. They got it all organised, and then when it came to making it they thought that it would be ok and perfectly responsible for Kate to make it. Now that's just offensive in my mind, and I know Kate was hurt by the whole thing. She wasn't important enough to discuss it with, or ask for her to do one, but she would be ok to do the work to make it. She is not the hired cook, she's a person that would like to be treated as part of something, not someone to call into at the last moment. The wedding itself is down south in Balcultha, about an hours drive from Dunedin. When it was decided to be there, we realised that we couldn't go. We have issues about being stuck somewhere without means to get home. We never go anywhere without our motorbike or taxi money in our wallet just in case. There is no way our bike would make it to Balcultha and back, it's dying unfortunately. So we can't go. We had organised another friend to take us, and act like our chauffeur. She didn't know anyone so she would leave when we were ready. It was very good of her to offer, but due to a miscommunication that has fallen through. Now I know that for most people that kind of thing wouldn't be an issue, they would just get a lift with someone else. But we are not most people, we are damaged people. And the night of the munch, when someone had a go at us about not going because of this reason we felt like shit, like the crazy person in the corner. This was only made worse because the other people, people that know my story sat back and didn't say a word. Not one word of understanding or support. I am kind of wondering why Kat is still
thinking of these people as friends. Maybe I am just run down and
in a bitchy mood. But this whole wedding has hurt us in a lot of
ways. Made us feel less than, again and that is one feeling I wish
never to re-experience. It's the worst.
We have been thinking a lot lately about how we present. About this need to look and act normal. About how it hides our issues, pain and unhealthy behaviour from the world. Joy is coming over soon, and I have friends (kind of) in our life. And none of them see our shit. We keep it so hidden, putting on that facade of a strong capable one. In so many ways its a great ability. To be able to live a normal life whilst in chaos. I don't believe we would truly change it if we had the chance. We don't want to be the weird person that can't look after herself. But in saying that it's also hard being the person that is suffering, but no one is aware of that. We never let on. The community has fail safes that stop anyone flash backing in public, that keeps the emotions on a level. We seldom get emotional, stressed or terrified around people. No. See I am doing it again, pretending it doesn't happen. The truth is we get all those things around people, we remember the past, we have flashes of abuse. But it is all kept hidden. We can be sitting in a room full of people, and have flashes of a memory and yet look like nothing is going on, like we are either bored or just quietly listening. And yet inside everyone is screaming and running from cover from the storm. We live alone, spend the majority of our time alone, so we can get away with it. We can hang on 'til we are home and then we can fall to pieces in safety. We will scream and hide and shake for hours. We will hurt ourselves, not take care of ourselves. But all the time keeping up that appearance. We self harm. For a long time we wouldn't call it that. Because it wasn't bad enough, wasn't important enough to be labeled self harm. And yet we will pick holes in our skin, scratch between our legs 'til it is raw and seeping, rip our toe and fingernails off. But no we could never call that self harm. No one could see it or if they did it wasn't bad enough to be a concern. It wasn't so much that the self harm wasn't important. It was that we weren't important enough. It didn't matter how much we hurt ourselves, as long as we were living a normal life. As long as we didn't slice ourselves open. Then it wasn't self harm, not to us, and no to anyone around us. But after years of training, years of being taught ways to hurt ourselves without drawing attention to it, and that ingrained, absolute, that we could never let on that anything was wrong, we have become experts at hiding our pain away. As long as no one can see, we can sit all
day and not cope. We can vege out on the couch, totally lost in our
pain. We can curl up in a ball and shake, have horrific nightmares
that means we won't sleep for days, not eat, not be able to leave the house.
All sorts of things, but if no one knows it's fine. But what happens
when we have to live with someone? What happens when we get
so tired of coping alone? It's hard to get support and understanding
when you don't let on that things are miserable. People get that
image of us as strong and capable because that's all we show them.
So when we try to reach out for help people don't see that. One because
they are use to seeing us as someone that doesn't need help, and two, because
we aren't good at asking. We don't know what help we need, nor do
we know how to get attention for our pain. I can't blame anyone for
over looking us. We have made a lifetime career of being overlooked.
And now as the pain drags us down, it hurts to be so alone.
Well for all our trepidation, last night's hens party wasn't a total disaster. I still hated being the "poor relation" and having to constantly budget, but for the most it was a good night.. I was lucky to get a lift home, and really appreciated that, even though the guilt rushed in for taking her away from the party for 10 minutes. I need to relax more, realise people are capable of saying no, and give them the right to say yes. But we danced a lot last night. God some of us love to dance. And we managed it without getting even slightly drunk, but then Datyn was out and going, and that girl has no inhibitions. Unfortunately the places were so crowded. I suppose that happens, it was Saturday night after all. But we don't like to be crowd in, it triggers off the feelings of being trapped and in danger. So we had a couple of silent freak outs. Mira came out during the night, which is really cool. She's a wonderful woman, and loves being around people. But it's hard for her, being a mute she can't talk to people and socialise, and most don't get that, since the moment before we are chatting away. So usually she sits on the edges and just watches. But in a busy, noisy situation like a dance bar she can come out, dance, be with people and no one notices. After all, being mute isn't an issue when its too noisy to hear anyone speak anyway. So next weekend is the wedding, we can't
go. Nothing can be done about that. It's just the way of things.
I know many see us as being silly, or pathetic or something, because we
won't just go because it's our friends getting married. But the reality
is, its just not possible. They may never understand the reason for
that, nor accept it as a valid reason. But that's not our issue.
The reality is we are damaged people, struggling to repair ourselves and
that's one of the damages that needs fixed. We can't just talk ourselves
out of that feeling. And its not our problem that they can't understand
that, ok party it is. We never let people see the hurt side of us,
we spend our life being strong and capable. So when something comes
up, that goes against that image they can't understand it. Not from
me, not from the person that is so together. I sometimes wonder if
it would be better to be a nutcase. To be the one that can't cope
with living and society. If I portrayed that image then less would
be expected of us, people would understand when we feel to pieces, they
might not like me much as that person but at least they would be able to
say .. oh that's just her, it's the way she is.
Well we start down last night to watch our favourite documentary, "The Human Body" We really enjoyed the couple of shows we saw the first time it played and have been looking forward to the repeat for ages. Watched the first part last week, and knew it was started with birth and worked all the way through to death. We knew it would be about birth, but didn't think anymore about it. Sat there enjoying it, learning a lot, watching in fascination. We were really enjoying it. The last thing of the show was the birth, about how the baby comes out. That was ok, until they showed the baby pushing out of her mother. Then it hit us, the grief, the hurt. Olivia went into full flashback, remember her baby being born. It hurt so bad that we were unable to move, sitting on the couch for the next hour weeping uncontrollably. There is so much grief here associated with children, our daughter being killed an hour into her life, our mother making it so we can never have children. That undeniable ache that never seems to go away. We should of been prepared. We have long known that babies make us sad, we can't think about them or see them without Kate and Olivia feeling the grief of motherhood lost. But I think that we saw that programme as a documentary, a show about the scientific, technical side of pregnancy, rather than any emotional context. So when all the pain and memories hit, we were totally unprepared. It was a shock that was only compounded when the body went into shock from the memory. It was a hard night, and today has still be hard. There is so much sadness here. After we calmed down from the flashback, we felt so drained, so overwhelmed. The flashback was a strong one, it truly felt like we were given birth, the weight of the child resting on our stomach, and then the warmth of her spilt blood could be felt like it was actually happening, and I can't get that stench, the smell of her body being burned on that fire, out of my mind. She was our daughter, we got to hold her for an hour, got bonded with her. Olivia at the time truly believed she would be allowed to keep her, that she would have her daughter with her for the rest of her life. And then there's the guilt. Rationally, we know there wasn't a thing we could of done, we were so young, surrounded by lots of people, and still in pain. We couldn't of escaped, but all she can think is why didn't she run, why didn't she get her daughter to safety. She feels as responsible for her death as the people that killed her. We didn't do a thing to keep her alive, to get her to safety. No matter how much we know that was impossible the guilt still remains. Our daughter would be turning 21 this year is we had managed to save her, she would of had a life. But she was gone before she had a chance, and the grief of that is unbearable. We also know that she, our daughter was the only child we will manage to have. We have been made sterile. Our mother saw to that, taking a pot scrub and scarring us so badly that no sperm will manage to get to the egg to fertilise it. She took away our chance to have children, our choice to determine what happens to our body. Yes we can still have children, with the new technology of artificial insemination. But the natural pregnancy is no longer an option with us. We have forever lost that. I try not to think of myself as damaged goods, but I can't help it. I know many people that have chosen not to have children, and I am fully supportive of that, but I would of liked to of had that choice. I would like to be in charge of my own body, instead of having it ruined by someone else. I personally don't want children, but that's not the point. The point is that what I want doesn't matter, it has already been decided. And I know that Kate still dreams of being a mother, that for her and Olivia there is a still that dream of holding a child, their child, watching it grow and develop, going through all the trials of parenthood, the pains and joys, the heartbreak and pride. I don't know if we would be a good mother, I just know I wish we had the opportunity to find out. So now, the day after the flashback, after
being triggered, we feel like a heavy weight is on us. Everything
feels so bleak and hopeless. Its only a child I tell myself.
I have to move on. But we can't stop weeping, can't make that ache
go away. I just want to curl up somewhere and disappear
for awhile. I don't want to have to think about what happened, don't
want to remember the way our daughter looked, the smell of her body, and
I no longer want to hear the things my mother said, the spiteful words
as she damaged us forever. I just want to be a normal woman.
Well another day has past. We are so tired. Emotionally drained. There is just too much right now to deal with. I don't know where to turn. I don't know how to find some peace in this world. Everything is in so much turmoil. I hate being this disturbed, but I hate even more that I can't fall to pieces around others. Why can't I be the sick one for a while. I spend my days helping others, being there for them. I walk from crisis to crisis and all the time I aid others, counseling them, being their shoulder to lean on. I can't keep doing this. I can't keep being everyone's volunteer counselor. It's not working. It works well for everyone else, but for us, it means we are closing down on our own needs, pushing them aside for others. Today I spent 2 hours trying to help a friend that didn't even want my help, that wasn't prepared to acknowledge that his issues were causing others problems. I did this because I was asked to, although she later denied having been involved. I did this because I considered this person and the other people involved friends. But did anyone bother to ask me if I was up to it, do any of these people take the time or the energy to see I need help. I did this the day after holding a knife to my stomach, wishing I could gut myself I was in so much pain. But no one knows that. Partly because I don't show them, but mostly because they don't want to make the effort to find out. I can't keep pretending. It feels like my only choice now is to hide out from everyone, to shut them out of my life and disappear. Karen, my nurse, the lady that comes to see us once a week, is away on holiday for 5 weeks. Her replacement seemed like someone to talk to, so we tested her. We showed her a list of abuse we survived. Immediately she changed the topic, moving onto philosophical discussions. It was fun, but it was moving us into a intellectual head space. We can't talk to her anymore. She can't handle our life. So we have no support, not for the shit that we have to live though. We are having flashbacks every day. Major ones, little ones, flashes of images, full reliving. I can't make a coffee without seeing my grandmother pouring boiling water over my hand, can't go to the toilet without seeing my grandfather coming in and on it goes. We are living like this and yet no one is here for us. Even the people paid to be there to listen to it, want to run from it. They want to spend the time on a level distanced from the hell we are living. They think that is helping us, but all it does is make us move deeper into shame and isolation. Why is our pain too much for others to deal with, why if we can live it does everyone else run a mile from it? It isn't that we are stronger. Maybe it's because they have a choice, maybe if we had a choice we would avoid thinking about it too. Shit, no maybe about that, we would run a mile. But we can't, we are stuck with this life. So why can't one person just listen, can't be there to witness our fear and pain, to hold us, and shed tears with us. Is that too much to ask? I keep thinking, if we could be more obvious with our pain, if we could act out then someone would see it, someone would pay attention to it. I know it's stupid but I wish we could slice ourselves up, long deep cuts in our arms, or stupid eating 'til we need hospitalisation. It's the chicken shit way out. But it would mean that we can't speak out to the world. We can't say our pain, we hide it away and ache with sadness and loneliness. I just wish I could feel differently. Could allow myself to feel the pain that we do, and let others see it full on. The filters and walls inside are so strong, I don't think I can get past them. I don't know how to fight my way through all these barriers, not only to allow someone in, but to also let all my pain out. Everything is so stuck, years of holding it back and we don't know how to break through. So we will feel totally alone, we feel lost from the world. It's 11:30 at night and I feel like I have been staring at this journal entry for hours. I have no idea what to write, nothing important to say. I don't want to go on about how lonely I am, about our abuse, our wishes to hurt ourselves. Even I am getting bored with that. Sometimes even though all the pain is still there you just need some time away from it, sometime to think about something else. We actually got a lot of work done on our site today. Put up some old poems we found in the book. Don't know who wrote them, and well they aren't our best work. But to find them written down was a surprise. Most things are destroyed as soon as they are done. So we put them up here, they deserve to be. And we also wrote about our daughter. Man that was hard, that memory is still so fresh. But its there now, the world now knows about our child. Ok so the whole world doesn't visit our site. I wonder if anyone actually visits our site *chuckle* But she exists now, and anyone with a computer has the possibility of knowing she was alive. The money side of things is getting to
me. I really need to pay off that loan. Its eating up too much
money. I need some self restraint. Since its a line of credit
we used it as it gets down. So it never gets down because we draw
on it again. So the plan is no extra spending for 6 months, that
way it should be empty by the time Joy comes over, and then we will get
it down again. Ok there is a bed purchase in there, and that will
put us back, but maybe the Sallie's will have one, and I can swat it with
my single, or at least get it for a cheaper price because of that.
I need a bed when Joy is here. If all else fails I will get a loan
of an air bed, but that's not the best option. Its just a stand by.
So its tight strings for a while. All money is kept tight and there
will be no purchases. It would help if ACC gets there act together.
I can't believe they swatted that. There should of been a little
more leeway. But then that was half Dr. Turner's fault. Why
she had to know all those details is beyond me. She was just being
nosy and on a power trip. So because of that the money that got me
through has been canceled. I hate having to deal with money.
I hate being so poor I barely have enough to get me through the days.
I can budget and I do pretty well. But it would be nice to afford
to go out just once without having to go without, or let those that want
to go for junk food do that. But the reality is that I am on a benefit
and you aren't meant to have more to just live on. So I learn adapt.
Well this will do for today. It's
the most boring Journal entry I think we have done. But it keeps
it going, I think that if I stopped too long I would just give up.
So I will write even if its boring shit like today's.
Last night we had this dream, a nightmare I suppose. Like most of our dreams it started off with the usual bizareness, things about motorbikes not getting up hills, and talking to strangers in supermarkets. But it turned from that and went into one about my family. We had visited, and been molested by our parents. After they had finished, I had decided I had had enough and was going to leave permanently. They seemed very amused by this and when I was packing up my stuff, worried that they would destroy all my dragons if I didn't take them with me, my father laughed and said something about my sister. It's cloudy now, and I can't remember the exact words, but in the dream I had a sister that they had killed, that they weren't ready for her so they just killed her and buried her somewhere. My brother was suddenly there, but it wasn't him, it was some blond gay guy. My brother is very homophobic so maybe making him gay was my revenge. Anyway he seemed very confused about me leaving, not understanding what the trouble was. Everyone around me was rather amused by everything, and acting like I was silly for behaving like this. In my dream I remember thinking, well at least today's journal wont be as boring as last nights. It was about then I woke up. I know there was more to the dream than that, but my brain can never hold onto dreams once I start moving. I had got out of bed, and went online, looking for someone to talk to. It had disturbed me, not upset or frighten me. I wasn't crying or scared, just well.... perplexed. I have never thought of dreams as being prophetic, or any great meaning. To us, dreams are like the scientists say, the brain going over the events of the day, putting them in order and understanding them. They have never meant more than that to us, maybe because our psychic stuff has always happened when we were awake, so we expect that kind of information to come that way. I do not think it was a memory, well of course not, cos it was set in the present. But I do not believe my father was or ever will be abusive in that way. He was an enabler, and never really noticed me other than his put downs. I do not believe the dream was trying to tell me he had molested us. But I have this feeling there is some information hidden in it. Something about my sister. Although not about a real sister, at least I don't think it was that direct. I have no real sister, just my brother. And unless there is some family secret, then that is true. I think its more about the killing thing. At last therapy we had a major reaction when Alison asked if my mother ever threatened it. Basically Rose had said my mother would be happy if she had beaten us to death, and when Alison replied about whether it was threatened Chaos broke out. There is something there, something we aren't willing to remember or look at right now. So I think it was coming through in the dream, somewhere amongst that forgotten information is a clue to something we are trying to avoid, and I think that's where the disturbed feeling came from. There is also a lot of that need, to leave our family behind, to say good bye to the past, and to them. I can't, however just abandon them, turn my back and disown my family. It's just not an option, and although I know most people can't understand that, it's just not something we are capable of. Maybe if I had that indisputable evidence it would be different. But even then I doubt it, there is something so final, so isolating to no longer have a family. And we are not strong enough to be that alone. But we are saying goodbye in many ways. We no longer feel the need to report in, to give detailed reports of even the most minute details of my life. My mother no longer has the right to know about my finances, my relationships, my life plans. I no longer feel the need obey every wish of my parents, nor do I have to visit them, or ring them. I am finally at age 32 cutting the ties and becoming and individual, separated from my family. There has been a backlash from my mother over this. She gets highly insulting when I do not answer her questions or run immediately she demands. She and the rest of the family, had put major work into programming us as the devoted daughter. I was never meant to have thoughts and needs of my own. So that showing through now is hard for them to deal with, they try harder to control me, invoking the land mines that they implanted years ago. It's incredibly hard to break through. But we are now strong enough, focused our own well-being to know that we can not go through life as an automation. So this is how we are breaking away from the family, how we are saying goodbye to them. Slowly as we become stronger, as we learn to be comfortable with this new self, they will either have to learn to accept it, or it will be their decision to leave. It isn't as chicken shit as it sounds, its not waiting for them to change, for that aint going to happen. But rather it's about being the person that we are proud to be, it's about doing what is right for us, and allowing the responsibility for how other people react to be placed where it belongs, with them not with us. Maybe we are getting healthier after all,
just wish it was not so damn hard.
Little Disclaimer: I do not make a habit of watching american sitcoms, for the most part I avoid all american comedies, much prefer the english variety like Waiting for God and Black Adder. Now with that said and my pride intact :) I was feeling really blah the other day and sat down in front of the television, not really watching rather it was background noise, and the programme "Friends" came on. Now there was this chick.. umm.. Monica. And I have never seen anyone so damn skinny. I watched thinking people would probably label her as attractive, that in this society the woman with no flesh, let alone fat on her bones are deemed the most attractive and desirable. What I saw was a walking skeleton. and it repulsed me. Now we have a major body image problem. We believe we are too ugly, too fat. At its worst we believe that our mere appearance could be fatal to others, and that we should be put to death because of it. So I think that counts as a distorted self image. But we are struggling to overcome that. Struggling to know that being fat doesn't necessarily make you ugly, just as being skinny isn't always the same as being beautiful. In a world that can not say I am fat without adding and ugly on the end it is hard to be a woman of weight. If I can move into my intellectual head space I can say this, that I am above the healthy weight range described by doctors, but that doesn't effect my intelligence, my desires or my worth as a person. That's from the intellectual place which really doesn't mean much as the emotional space is a lot stronger. In that emotional head space I think that being over weight makes me ugly, I think that the way I look is repulsive, that no one could like me because I am not thin, that I do not have the same rights as those that are thin. Why are we so afraid of this body, why when in general it is no different than any other female body out there. Someone once said I should look at my naked body 15 minutes a day in the mirror. We couldn't do it, we got so upset. Not only was it too ugly, it also had breasts, and genitals and hair. We wanted to destroy it, rip it away. We ended up curled in a ball sobbing uncontrollably. We being female, well those that are female. We take pride in our female body. But yet we are disgusted by that. Such a contradiction. It's just that we feel shame at those parts of our body, personal shame that can definitely be traced back to our past. You are too smelly, you are too hair, look at those little breasts and on it went. We were taught to be ashamed. So now as an adult, one that is, generally, rather feminist we have this major contradiction. Pride of being female, pride at our reproductive system, proud of looking feminine, hell we would be major proponents of rejoice your cunt society if it existed over here. But all the time we live in fear of it. Our body terrifies us, we don't want to know how it works, the mechanisms and biology of us. We want to be distanced from it. But back to the incredibly skinny woman
I watched on television. I found her unattractive because of her
size. It looked unhealthy and well.. un sexy. So maybe I am
beginning to learn, beginning to think it isn't the total lack of body
fat that makes someone beautiful. Maybe that out saying is true after
all. That real beauty comes from within. Always thought of
that as crap said to make ugly people feel better. It is important
to us though, to change that attitude of ugliness. It isn't a matter
of being told we are beautiful, or about achieving some mysterious standard
of beauty. It's about being able to be satisfied with our body, being
true to ourselves. I doubt I will ever attain the society's standard
of physical beauty. It just isn't going to happen. But we can
find a place, a belief that our body is not only acceptable the way it
is, but it is also something to be comfortable with, something to rejoice
about. I wish to be the sort of person that is comfortable with the
facets of themselves, to be able to remain naked when alone, to accept
her bodily functions and take pride in the body she was given.
I am tired, I want to hide out again. Close the doors and hide away from the world. Things are irritating me majorly lately. I read the Army's definition page today, and got so angry at it. The whole tone of the page seemed to me to be derogatory towards multiples that have survived abuse. It's an issue that keeps reoccurring around the "empowered" movement on DP and other web sites. It fucks me off, like somehow because I am dealing with my abuse, because my abuse is the cause of my multiplicity that I am somehow less that the next multiple that doesn't have an abuse related multiplicity. I am tired of hearing it all the time, the "fluffy" multiples, as in those that need support. What the hell is wrong with needing it, I have been to hell and back, and I struggle, yes, but that doesn't make me a victim. And yet victims and survivors are labeled the same. Like lower class citizens in the world of multiples. Sure its great if you don't need to worry so much about triggers, if you can totally protect yourselves from them. Good for you, but if, like us, you still have to struggle through them, if trigger warnings are helpful to avoid issues you aren't strong enough to deal with that day, and that sometimes you need support then does that make you a weak victim. Not in my books, it means you have had shit that you have to deal with, and that sometimes you aren't as strong as you usually are. I am getting more and more irritated by the assumption that there is one type of empowered multiple. That to fit into that system, there is one way of being. Suddenly it's wrong to call your people alters, ok we hate that term, but if another multiple likes it, does that make them not empowered. In my book no. Isn't empowered the right to choose what is right for you. Just because you don't follow the code, doesn't mean you are a victim. I have made the decision not to go on about this on the list, basically because I am tired of it, and can't be bothered repeating myself anymore. So I vent here instead. And on top of that is this total fed-upness
with the people here. I don't want to hear about weddings, I don't
want to have to deal with people's egos, with their selfishness.
People here are tired of being trashed by others, being used up and spat
out. I will no longer allow it, I have had enough basically.
There is only so much that a guy can take you know. I can't see the
point of burying all our shit so someone else can be taken care of.
All it means is eventually things get so bad for us we can't move, that
we are so broken down we can't cope with the normal activities of life.
I am not able to run around taking people that aren't willing to help themselves
anymore. I can't stand watching some of us weeping anymore because
they feel so abandoned and used. I don't want to have to put up with
other people making us feel small, or worthless. Everyone is different,
they have different interests, different strengths. And if we can
respect that why can't others? Why do they have to be so frightened
of someone else having opinions and views different than their own.
It seems to threaten them and therefore make them hostile towards us.
That's the feeling I get, the feeling of being attacked, however subtly,
for who we are, and what we think. So we are feeling totally used,
and ignored. That along with going through life being on the outside,
always just there, but never allowed in. It feels like we are barely
tolerated, an amusement at best. So maybe it's better that we run
again. We can hide away, continue our life, and once again, people
wont notice we have gone until it's too late. Not a bad way out,
except its damn lonely.
Joined this new list the other day, and maybe I just wandered into it at the best time. There was this discussion going on about talking to rocks. I was so surprised. I didn't know other people in this world realised the stone and rock could talk back, that they have a consciousness. From there we got talking about my spiritually, about how wonderful and helpful it is for us. Man this list feels so safe and welcoming. There was no raised eyebrows, no mention of finding God. It was just this feeling of acceptance of our differences. Our spirituality and our culture, the ones that come from inside are so important to us, we actively participate in them, in both worlds. I don't think many people understand that, it isn't some fantasy we think about, or imagine. It's a real religion, a real culture, something we actively pursue. And to find people that accept that, is such a wonderful experience. And one of the people on it, mentioned today that she has a lot of non humans in her system. It was such a relief. On most lists, in most interactions, real life or online, we hide the fact that we are mostly non human. Only about 30% of us are purely human. When we have mentioned that before it has usually been met with fear or skepticism. Now we think we have found a great list where we can be open about so many things. And it's so exciting. It is hard to keep hiding that. To brush over details so people don't think we are crazy. To put aside things because others don't understand it, or don't want to acknowledge it's importance. A good and simple example of that is that in Idia it is deemed incredibly rude to wear shoes inside. I don't know where that comes from but I know that its a strong belief for us all. We never wear shoes inside other than when we are putting them on to go outside, but it's always the last thing we do. When we go to other peoples houses we will take them off if possible, but we understand it's not their beliefs so it's not so bad that we can't take them off. But the thing is, when people on the rare occasion visit us, we can't ask them to remove their shoes. They just wouldn't understand it. So we have to ignore our beliefs. I remember years ago when I did a course in cultural safety at Polytech, the lecturer talked about how the Maori culture had been shut out of society, how many of their beliefs were almost lost, and now people are reclaiming them. I felt a sense of longing when he was talking, I knew (without knowing) that the same thing was happening with the culture of Idia. It just wasn't known the rest of the world. And now we have a strong feeling of needing to honour our culture, all aspects of it. We want to embrace our culture, our religion, our ways of life. Just having to do it secret is difficult. There is a sense of shame, a sense of isolation
that goes with no one else knowing your celebrations, your practices, your
culture. It's lonely knowing you can't rejoice together. In
this world, ethic and religious groups band together for that sense of
community, that sense of common bond. They celebrate together, they
worship together. We have that in one way, we have each other, but
we also have to live in this world where we are all alone. The list
we joined yesterday has helped, but it also has highlighted how alone we
are.
Chaos now reigns supreme over Idia, the people have scattered into the woods, terror is the primary force running through the fabric of life. The village lays abandoned and the wildnerness has returned. There is no safety, some huddle in camps, others run aimlessly through the trees. What will happen now I do not know, will remain out here in the cold forever, never growing further, will the world slowly swallow us? Perhaps dying is now our only option, we should not of disintergated, we should not of failed, but we have and now we stand on the end of the abyss. I do not know. There is always hope I hear from the depth on the night. Hope for what I scream back, hope for more pain, more suffering, more aloneness. Is that the life we were meant to have. All I hear back is hope, hope will hold us strong. But it didn't did it, look at where we are now, look at what has become of the people. What world is left now. Will there ever be more than this again. Maybe tomorrow things will settled, maybe
by next month the village will rebuild, maybe by next year we will find
our strength and peace. A lot of maybes, especially now all there
is, is destruction.
MY NAME IS CHAOS AND I HAVE BEEN VICTORIOUS.
Ok she is scary, damn this all is terrifying,
someone help please.
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