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01-05-01
02-05-01 03-05-01
04-05-01 06-05-01
08-05-01 09-05-01
Never written here, don't know if it's a good idea. But I can't keep this inside. I have been ripping at my genitals all night, scratching them raw, I can't stand it, can't handle how it feels. I want to pour bleach all over me. I know it's sick, I know that I shouldn't even be thinking that. I can feel it inside me, I can see its eyes, smell it's breath. It feels like I have been tainted, that I have been infected. So fucking dirty, I can't ever get that feeling out of me. I want to destroy the parts it touched, become clean again. What is wrong with that. Ok I know I can't, because I have to share this body. That's the only reason I don't do this, that I don't pour bleach inside me, because it isn't just my body that would be affected. If I was normal, you know one person in this body I would do it, I would burn myself clean. Then maybe it wouldn't feel, it wouldn't make me sick anymore. I don't know what is worse, the feeling of that dog inside me, or the fact that everytime it happened they would watch, that they would stand around me and stare as it was happening. Why did they have to see it, why couldn't they of at least given me the privacy, why degrade me further by having them watch. I can see their faces, hear their voices. I don't want to have people know, have people see. Oh shit why then am I writing this here, people will also know. Shit I need to just delete this, to get out of here. Damn cat is annoying me now, I haven't
got the patience, its only a cat, not not not, only a cat she's small and
harmless. But I don't want to be around any animals right now, don't
want to see them or hear them. They make me feels sick, repulsive.
I just feel so completely dirty, well filthy and vile. Man why doesn't
this go away, why doesn't it just close off and leave. I don't want
to have to keep remembering, I don't want to keep reliving, keep feeling.
Just let me die and then it would stop. Top of Page
Night comes and we don't want to see the morning, we don't want to make it to sunrise, and have to face another day. I thought that therapy was meant to make things easier, but yet all it seems to do is make it more real, more alive. I can't get all the images to go away, I can't back off from this edge. Our body is a mess again hanging onto life. Not that we want to hang on, right now we would do anything to just let go, to fall into that unknown. I wonder why it's such a bad idea, would it really matter. Shouldn't our needs count. Why should we spend every day weeping, in pain. Why should we continue living if its just more of the same over and over. It's just not right. I don't want anyone worrying about me, I don't want people panicking that I might be dead any day. I just want it to end, I just want to be nothing, that emptiness. There is all this shit in my head, this craziness. I don't want any of it anymore. I don't want to deal with memories of this bizarre crap. My mother, my grandparents, those people that are never going to deal with what they did. They are off living their lives, or have lived there life without any consequences. And here we are so damn screwed up. I see blood, I taste dog semen, I feel the bloods, smell the breath. I live like this every day, what's the fucking point. I ache for a normal life. I wanted for a long time to have someone here with me, holding me whilst I sobbed, but now I don't want anyone to know anymore, I don't want anyone close enough to see how damaged we are, how tainted and evil. How can I look anyone in the face anymore. I feel like something evil and twisted. I don't even see myself as a person anymore, its like my soul, my essence has been so destroyed there is just some rotted body left over. I aren't being over dramatic, I just think that what these people did has left us forever destroyed, and we don't want to live like that, and we never want anyone to know. We have to hide for that. So this is the life we have. I can't
see anything good in it, all I can see is a deep sense of loneliness, combined
with self hatred. I know things I shouldn't, I will never not have
those things happen to me, I just don't know if I can live day after day
knowing this, being this. It hurts too damn much. Top
of Page
I am part of a multiple system, I thought I was use to not really being here, not being seen as a person, an individual. But when Kat joined the local bdsm group I felt even more invisible. Now I understand her reasoning, and totally agreed with it. Most people wouldn't understand I was a different person, a submissive person and just think Kat switched (as in from dom to sub). So I have remained hidden, not really been an open part of the body's life. I just haven't gotten as use to it as I thought. I thought I was ok being the invisible one. But I ached for someone to know me, to have me as part of their life, to form a relationship with them. But I think I wanted it too much, I think I forced it onto Joy, before she was ready for it. And it's just exploded in my face. I have lost her. And all I can do is weep. I wanted someone to love, someone to love me as a person. But Joy wasn't able to keep up the relationship, I believe she was forced into being a dom when she really didn't want to me, and that I was too extreme for her. I am now left alone, with no one to talk to, no one to be with. It was the right thing to happen, it was the only reasonable solution. But man it hurt to give her collar back, to walk away from her. I know in my heart it was the best thing for Joy, that she will be happy remaining in the relationships she has with Kat and Abra. And I do want her only to be happy, and I can go back to spending most of my time inside. Oh aint I just the martyr, but I mean it. I can't force her to be something she isn't and if I did she would just be unhappy and eventually it would fall apart with us both hurt. So it's better that I just get this hurt and deal with it, being able to process it and then move on, leaving her behind. I know it will be hard when she finally gets over her, seeing her here, the others being with her. Maybe I will of gotten to that grownup place where I can just see her as a friend, where I can spend time talking to her without crying, and wishing for more. Oh the joys of being multiple, it's not like I can go out and find someone else. It's also not a fact of once it's over never having to deal with her. She will remain a part of our lives, and that's good for her, and for the rest of us, just hard for me. It's funny in a way, my grandmother trained me to be a purely sexual being, to solely have that purpose, but I broke away from that, I started learning to think and act of my own free will. I am still highly sexual, I know that, but I am also someone that needs an emotional connection. If I hadn't of broken away from my grandmother's teaching maybe I wouldn't be hurting so much right now, maybe I wouldn't even be alone, I could just remain someone's fuck toy without feelings without that ache to belong in someone's life. Oh the joys of getting well. I have been dealing a lot lately with my past, actually telling people what happened to me, thinking of talking about it more. Talking about the past isn't easy, it takes so much strength to think about it. Justine talked last night about how it would be so much easier to talk about things if they weren't so bizarre and unheard of. I think she's write. I know our therapist says that is just wasted energy, thinking about something that can't be, and although I agree, it doesn't take away the fact that it is all so fucking screwy. I mean, I know that life conspired to present the opportunity to make money from me, and that was through being prostituted out to people that wanted a child sex slave. That's just the way it went, but sometimes I just hate the way things are. I want a normal life, a normal childhood, and to live my own life with someone important just for me. Man we are so worn out, we are tired of
dealing with all the abuse, now I have to deal with the normal shit that
goes along with living. When is it going to end. Top
of Page
Nearly forgot to write my journal tonight, I have been busy reading a very good book, "Trauma and Recovery by Judith Lewis Herman. MD". It, so far has spoken of the development of the diagnosis of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder and how it manifests. It is an interesting read. I don't know how it will go, but so far it's intellectual discussion has gotten me thinking, about the trauma and how it is being played out in our lives now. It's funny, I have been wondering lately about how focused I am on the abuse, the effects of it. I couldn't understand why we seemed so obsessed. But it hit me today, that we are doing memory exposure work in therapy, and that has lead us to want to feel, and deal with that trauma, so surprise surprise we are actually involved in dealing with it, thinking about it alot, trying to make sense of our life. This book, although about our life is also a distraction. It is a text book, about PTSD rather than a personal recovery book. There is something safe about dealing with issues from that intellectual space, it no longer becomes real, no longer is about us. And I hope to learn more about post trauma issues and recovery so that I can aid our own recovery, take more control over what is happening to us. Maybe by doing lots of reading we can become our own therapist. But still I need my therapist, I need that person out there that will listen to my pain, comfort, and support me through it. In the book, Herman talked about the conflict of the bystander, how they have a choice, align with the perpetrator, and do nothing, which is all the perpetrator asks, or align with the victim and bare witness, sharing a little of the burden of pain. I was talking about that today. How people don't want to know my truth, mostly because it makes them feel useless. A friend does not want to be in the position where they can't help, where they can't make their friend feel better. But the reality of the situation is nothing but time and our own hard work will make any of this better, so it puts the friend in that horrible place of feeling useless, unable to help. Because all we need is a witness to our pain, someone to walk beside us as we travel through it. There is no cure, nothing they can do, but watch and comfort. It is hard to remain that useless witness, and for most it is easier to walk away, to believe the image of someone in control, it doesn't have that sense of powerlessness about it. I don't blame people, it's human nature, and actually if the roles were reversed I would feel the same, I would hate to be the one not able to make everything right. My pysch nurse came today, funny I thought
I would be hospitalised, but yet we had this intellectual discussion, we
talked about the reality, but not the emotions. I know she is aware
things are difficult for us, but I also know we didn't show her just how
difficult it is. I wonder constantly if I should be in hospital,
I know the feelings of suicide are strong right now. But we also
spoke about the suicide being a symptom of the memory exposure work, and
the reality that even if I went into hospital I would have to learn to
deal with the pain eventually, on my own. So this isn't something
that will change unless I do the work, unless I find a way to keep ourselves
safe. I know hospitalisation will make staying alive easy for a while,
but eventually we have to deal with that responsibility ourselves.
Sometimes I wish for a unit, an inpatient programme that understands multiplicity
and trauma. But I suppose I will have to make do with what is available.
Top of Page
Well I am pissed, the television kind of exploded today. Kids wanted to watch a Land Before Time video this afternoon, so I was putting it on, and my head was near the screen, I felt the electricity, pulling at my hair, then a crackling noise and a bad smell of burning rubber. So no televison. We thought we were going crazy with this. We need our television for distraction, for enjoyment, and to just get through the day. We saw the next week with no television, and well it was scary. Ok I don't watch alot but I like to have it on, it feels kind of less lonely. But Rebecca our neighbour, leant her's to us. We went to see if her father could take our's down to be repaired, and Rebecca offered her's until we got it fixed. Am considering making another website about my BDSM lifestyle, nothing to do with the multiplicity issues. I have always been very opinionated on the lifestyle, and it would be a site about the opinions and experiences, rather than anything pornographic. It would be interesting to do, something I have been considering. I don't know if Joy wants to contribute to it, or just do it all myself. Will have to talk to her about it. Ok this must be the shortest journal ever,
but I really can't think of anything else to say tonight. Top
of Page
A wee while ago, Lucy, our cat jumped in through the window, we didn't notice she had a mouse in her mouth. It would of been fine but the creature was still alive, and when she let it go it scurried across the floor, things started going wrong then, we could feel something in the background of our mind starting to get agitated. We opened the door, trying to get it out, but Lucy ran after it and caught it again, heading back inside. We had to call on our neighbour, who was outside at the time, she came and got Lucy and the mouse, but it was too late, we were slipping into flashback. It was embarrassing, I mean we used to be so good at never showing that, of never having flashbacks in front of people, and now we were having one in front of our neighbour. She was very good, she took care of the whole mouse situation, then came and helped us ground back into reality. But still the embarrassment remains, she saw us at our most crazy. Now we don't want to go to bed, we don't want to lie down, the mouse has triggered that memory, of being locked in a box, the lid closed on top of us, and left there, with what felt like hundreds mice, all crawling over us, no escape, no getting away from them. They didn't hurt us, but we can feel them crawling over us, can hear them, feel their feet and fur. OPne little mouse triggered all this, has made it hard to relax. I am pertrified, I hate it, hate the feeling of the memory tugging at my mind. It's not fully there, but we are aware of it, just waiting to hit again. I know if we lie down in the dark, the memory will come, something wants to strike out at me, to take the memory back into reality. I think, as I am writing this, that there
is something about the memory, something in it that is important to know.
I only really remember being in the box, remember the fear, the physical
feeling of it. Maybe I am just too much into recovery now, that I
am trying to make sense of everything, other than just knowing that I am
a survivor, the memory recovery stuff is now about learning information,
gaining awareness. Maybe it was just a bad memory of mice.
Top of Page
Well another day, didn't write a journal last night, we were just too tired and needed to go to bed. We didn't get much sleep the night before, the mouse thing was playing on our mind, the sensations were were when we closed our eyes, so mostly we just sat up all night, waiting for morning to come. So by the time I thought about doing this journal I was just too tired. Getting kinda depressed again about our relationships, we are so damn lonely again. But there is no one to fill that void, people keep us at a distance, or probably more true we make it so people will keep us at a distance. We are too scared of being hurt again, but because of that we live an isolated lonely life. The smart side of my brain says it is better to be lonely than get hurt. But yet I want contact, I want someone I can call a friend, share my life with, the good stuff, the boring stuff, the gut wrenching horrible stuff. Joy seems cool, but yet we know she reads these journals but never really shares. Once again I am wondering is she really isn't interested. I am probably being hard on her, I don't know. I just wish I didn't feel so alone, we have all these people we talk to online, and some of them we consider friends but we don't see them, we can't just call around for coffee. Loneliness sucks, plain and simple. I suppose part of it is I don't make a
good friend, I am not good at maintaining relationships. My own shit
gets in the road, and I end up keeping things away, especially people.
I don't really have the social skills needed for friendships, never really
having one, especially growing up, when people were dangerous, if they
got too close they would see all the shit I was. Not only do I not
have the skills, I am also not the easiest person to get along with, the
fact we are multiple means we are erratic, changeable, hard to get a handle
on, and then on top of that is all the crazy stuff, the things that get
in the road of a normal relationship. Well at least I am not totally
isolated, I have the computer to talk to people on. Top
of Page
Can't find anything to cut myself with, it's driving me insane. The only glasses left are those ones that don't shatter and all the kitchen knifes are too blunt. am really considering buying a craft knife tomorrow, that way I can at least know there is something in the house, even if I don't use it all the time, but something here for nights like this when I really need to bleed, really need to release the pain. Of course I can't speak to anyone about this, all they say is cutting is bad, and destructive. But what else can I do, when everyone is screaming, when the suicidal thoughts come, when everyone is overwhelmed and nothing is calming us down. When I cut enough to watch the blood run from it, even the little bit that comes from cutting the skin with the glass in the past. I need to get a knife, or something, need to find a way that I can get some relief, any relief, just to feel the numbness return. Supposedly feeling is good, but no one gave us the instructions on how to feel, how to deal with feelings. We are floundering here, we are getting all these emotions, these awareness and we don't have a clue where to move, what to do. It's all so damn hard, and lonely and scary. All we want is a break, moments of quietness, where we don't feel anymore. We had that for years, we never really allowed ourselves feelings, never fully anyway, they were always so controlled so buried, and now they are erupting. We try to be this normal person, talking about normal things, living a normal life. And yet it feels like we are standing in the middle of some disaster area, struggling to remain upright, not to crumble under the weight of it all. We are terrified, it feels like our whole world has been shattered. Funny thing is we have always lived this, this hasn't just happened over night. This stuff has always been there, it's just now we aren't in denial.. oh for denial it was such a gift. I don;t understand how we can appear so
normal anyway, especially when everything is such a disaster. No
one sees it, we talked to our mother, going in and out of awareness, not
really switching just fading out, and she didn't even notice, we hold such
ordinary conversations with friends when we can barely hold onto reality.
Keep wondering if I am lying, delusional, making it all up.Top
of Page
Had therapy today, got so angry. But that anger is just a cover, a cover for the fear we are feeling. We hate this out of control feeling. The community was always so good at keeping the memories under control, as in, we would never go into flashback in public, not even with our therapist, probably the only person we trust. Well last week we did. Now just remembering and talking, but full on, back to the past flashback, and one containing new, previously unacknowledged information. Basically we JUST don't do that, we have so many safety precautions in place to avoid that. But that seems to have failed, the memory got through, not just sitting on the background, but surrounding us and pulling us back into it. That scares us totally, we don't like to feel that out of control. Alison went on about how good it was, how letting go those barriers are actually benefit and improvement. Now that's just dandy for her, she doesn't have to deal with it personally, she can see it solely in terms of recovery. But for us, it makes a whole new dimension of danger. Take tonight, we go to this meeting. It was going well, then halfway through the crying starts inside and the panic grows. We know that a memory is on it's way, and we have to stop it. We ended up having to get to the toilets, making it look as normal as possible, trying to get people calm, push people into the background, keep them guarded from reaching the outside. We didn't think we would make it but we did. We returned to the main area, sat down, probably looked so completely normal.. ok we were digging our fingernails into the palm of our hand, and actually still have the marks about an hour later, and we couldn't concentrate on any of the discussion happening around us. But we looked normal and whatever memory was coming was diverted. It's still a good thing that we prevented it, but we worry now there will be a time when we don't. We also spoke about what was written at the end of yesterdays journal. That if all this abuse is real we should show more symptoms. I know we are feeling it, but at the same time it doesn't show. If it is real shouldn't it show on the surface, shouldn't we be less, well normal. I think of other people, their disorders show loud and clear, they look like they are distressed, like they are dealing with heavy issues. And yet us, we live our life, we carry on like a normal person without almost any sign of what is really going on. Now Alison says that survivors are good at hiding their effects, but with the amount, the diversity, and extremity of our stuff, I don't see how we can not show it. Maybe it's just another form of denial, the hope, the wish to have all this be some kind of delusion. but I keep coming back to the fact my symptoms are so hidden, that I can behave so normally, fit in with the crowd, take care of myself. I would of thought that if someone had lived though all this then there would be some sign of it, that we would fall to pieces, exhibit dysfunctional behaviour. Yeah we have that, but it is never seen by anyone. Ironically we crave to be truly normal, but yet worry that we look too normal. Spoke to my mother yesterday too.
Got so angry with her. My sister-in-law is supposedly wanting to
meet me for coffee when her and my brother is over. When we discussed
this with my mother it was politely but bluntly put that we didn't want
her coming to our home, we don't feel comfortable with people we don't
know coming into our place. We said give her our phone number and
she can ring to arrange a place to meet. Well we find out yesterday
that mother gave her our address. She said that Michelle will probably
come up sometimes in the next few days. How dare they? One
my mother knew I didn't want someone I didn't know coming here, and wanted
to see her somewhere separate. And Michelle, well surely she has
some sense that if I don't know her then it really isn't polite to just
drop in. Friends I have now, people I know, hell they can come up
anytime, just drop in. I have no problem with that. But married
to my brother or not, I have never actually met this woman, don't know
her, haven't even spoken to her. I do not want her coming to my doorstep.
Top of Page
Well the denial and self hatred are back
with a vengeance. We are even again wondering if we are multiple
at all, but mostly it's concentrated around the abuse stuff. We are
just making it all up, none of it happened, not really. And
since everyone tells us we aren't psychotic, then basically that just leaves
us lying, making it all up for some perverse reason. It could be
that I think it makes us special, or it will get us attention.
Maybe we just like hurting innocent people. Or maybe there isn't
a reason for it, it is just because we are lying scum. Thus enters
the self hatred, I mean it's not just about lying about our past, its about
who we are, it encompasses it all. Basically we are just bad, vile
and disgusting. I don't have the words for it, it's that strong.
This feeling that we completely HATE all we are, our appearance, our abilities,
our beliefs, the essence of who we are. It hasn't been this bad for
a while, and I know no one really gets it, really understands. And
the thing is it doesn't really matter what others say, it doesn't change
how we view ourselves. We tried for so long to become a good person,
to be someone lovable, someone worth caring about. Hell that's why
we started therapy in the first place, to become someone worthy, someone
good. But it just didn't happen, we remained bad horrible person.
Maybe we just have to accept it, that is the way it has to be. I
don't know, I don't know how to change myself, how to become something
good. I don't want to be bad it really wasn't my goal in life. Top
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Sitting here waiting for my sister-in-law to arrive. I can't say I am nervous, it's more I have no idea what I am going to say, I mean I have nothing in common with the woman except she is married to my brother and we have both had sex with him. And that's hardly likely to be part of the conversation. So what am I going to do, how can I be sociable and normal. I have to shut down to deal with this, I can't look or act even slightly weird. So on top of everything, this is going to be hard. Well they came, yep, both her and my brother. He hugged us, I felt the panic rise inside, and then that dead feeling. But we stayed in control, kept the right people out in front and acted very normal. That was hard in a way, we have gotten so use to being ourselves, to behave as a multiple around people, then suddenly it was back to being covert and hidden. Weird feeling, very unnatural. Anyway we sat at the table having coffee, and cake, and chatted away, like a normal family. Nothing was spoken of, not the distance that has developed between us, not this so called abandonment of my brother. It was like none of it happened, like we spoke regularly, were one big happy family just separated by physical distance. It was all very weird. About half way through the afternoon, I realised that he wouldn't look me in the eye, whenever he talked to me he would just look at his wife, never once meeting my gaze. I don't know what that was about. Part of me thinks it is because we are bad and disgusting. Too vile to look at. Some say that we remind him of the life we lived within the family, and thinking about that would mean acknowledging his part in that life, and he didn't want to face us or it. I know some of us are having major issues, remembering the beatings he gave us, the times when his anger overwhelmed us and he would beat us til he was exhausted. It's hard though, he was taught to do this, not just by observing others in the family, but literally shown how to hit us, how to inflict the most pain but leaving the least amount of evidence. He was indoctrinated into that abuse, in many ways he didn't really have a choice. I don't know.. I know I forgive him, but others here can't not without an acknowledgment and apology. I don't blame them, it was them that suffered at his hand. But yet it feels kind of harsh to still be angry at him. Maybe that's because we still find feeling anger at what was done to us a very hard thing. I know almost the fear is there. It was pushed aside when they were there, then we rang Joy, then Rebecca came over for dinner, so now it is starting to surface. He was so tall, so overpowering, it reminded us of the past, his presence, the closeness of him, that fear of what he would do. Ok can't go down that road right now, it is starting to get too real. Mother's Day today too. Man I get
so sick of all the mother stuff, the be grateful for all your mother has
done for you, time to repay her love. Someone sent an email to one
of my lists about mothers, and I got so angry. It wasn't their fault,
most mothers think and behave differently than mine did. But still
I can't deal with it, I can't handle the whole idea of mothers right now.
My thinking is all tainted, I hear mother and I think monster, the person
that rapes and beats their children. I can't think of a loving supportive
mother. I am glad the day is over, so now all the remember your mother
ads will be off the tv and radio. I wonder what it is like, the mother's
love thing. What it feels like to have one, a real one. I mean
I understand it is not always like the tv, not always happiness and hugs,
but what is it like to have something other than my one, to have someone
that isn't setting out to destroy you. Top of Page
Have therapy tomorrow. Getting a little worried about it. There is a possibility that Alison will put us in hospital. I don't know, she might not even mention it, but we are getting worried about it. Already there is talk about running away. I don't really know where we could go, or what our plan once we are there is. It so stupid. But if Alison does, then the relationship will be very damaged. We won't go in voluntarily, so she would have to commit us, and I don't think that would do much for our trust in her right now. The fact is hospital won't help. They don't want to deal with our multiplicity and in the past they have reacted angrily and insultingly when we have gone into flashback. We get threatened with sedation for what for us was just normal behaviour. Told we would have ECT if we didn't start feeling better and stop having memories. So we see hospital as only abusive, a place of fear reminiscent of our past. So even though our safety is fragile at best, it would not be beneficial to go in. This, of course means we don't have the same safety net everyone else has. Also about a fortnight ago, there was talk about this therapy session being a meeting to determine the support I will receive. I don't even know if that's going to happen. Don't see much point really. I have had the barest minimum of support the last 3 weeks anyway, and we managed on our own. They had said that my professional support would be increased to take up the slack of having little personal support. And as good as Joy and Shelli are, online support is minimal. Kind words, but sometimes you need someone there to hold you as you cry, to help you ground, to listen to the insane rambles that come out our mouth. But since they are both a fair distance, they have only been able to offer me a limited amount, but I am very grateful for that. So Alison and Karen decided to arrange extra support. Two more days a week when someone would come and visit. That lasted for 2 weeks, then it just stopped. For the last three we have only had the support we always have regardless of the fact we are in a place where our support needs have dramatically increased. I kind of wonder if it's out of mind. out of sight. Alison doesn't get it, that was obvious by her comment that our inability to control flashbacks was a good thing. Ok it's much later. We have just
come out of a disgusting flashback, it must of been bad because we vomited
and we seldom ever vomit. Even trying to type this is hard we are
still shaking, I hate this feeling, that we are so alone. Coming
back to reality I looked around for someone to hold me and tell me it was
all going to be ok, and there wasn't a soul. Even Lucy was outside.
We were little, probably about 4, hadn't started school yet. On holiday
with the family. Gone up looking for firewood, grandfather there,
he lead us higher into the hill. Then he found what he was looking
for, dead sheep. He took the knife and cut it open, It had
been dead a long time, maggots flies we had to undress and lie amongst
the decaying flesh. The smell, the feel of it, covered with blood
and maggots, the smell all over us. He raped us like that, then turned
us over face first into the sheep's body as he orgasmed making us eat some
of it, It didn't last in our stomach, don't even know if it got down
to our stomach, think our body rejected it before it got past our throat.
He just laughed as we vomited. Taking us back down to the river and
throwing us in the clean off before returning to the camp. We were
in shock, numb blank. It was then that time that Clara died, her
fear was just too much to handle and she died. And from that death
5 people were born to carry on, each so damaged by that one event, never
really recovering. I am going intellectual, because it's too much
to deal with, there is too much anger and pain involved. The horror
of it wants us to curl up and shake forever. It's all so sick and
twisted, almost impossible to believe. I don't think I would believe
it if I just hadn't remembered it so clearly, felt it, tasted it, smelt
it. Can still smell it. Just going to go now. I can't
think to type, can't concentrate past these aching feelings Top
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Had therapy. Talked our therapist into never putting us in hospital, she promised never to put us in without our permission, so we won't have to worry about committal. Its a good thing, but also in a lot of ways a very unsafe. We will never willingly go into hospital, no matter how bad we get. I mean by rights we should be in there now, we were unable to give Alison any guarantees of safety, she knows we are in a bad way right now, but her hands are now tied. If she tries to commit us then she will be breaking her promise and that will damage our relationship. So we are, both, now backed into a corner. It doesn't help that we are so damn confused. Hospital is the last thing we want, but yet it feels like we are left hanging without a safety net. I suppose it's about taking responsibility for myself and my recovery. But hospital, too scary to go to and yet scary to be doing this work without a back up. I worked out today in therapy I am basically doing this alone. I have therapy but that's not support, it's work. I have Karen, but she only comes once a week, and is here to most ground me, not talk about what is going on. The rest of the time, with all the memories and emotions we are on our own, struggling to keep our head above water. Really got that need to isolate again. Never leave the house, not talk to anyone anymore. I think it's to do with not only the shame of what we are dealing with, but also our fear at no longer being able to be in control of our life. So we want to stop down, never leave the house. Hide away from the world and just suffer in quiet, at least then we won't be a bother, or feel like the crazy one. I am tired of dealing with this shit, and feel it would be easier to just not show it to anyone. I can't stop it myself, but yet I don't want anyone to know. Life was so much easier when I was in control, always coping and always normal. Yeah I am still miserable. I really
don't think anyone has a clue just how hard things are for us right now.
Or maybe they don't want to know. Sometimes it is easier for people
not to know. Can't say I blame them. But fuck it's lonely.
Top of Page
No one will like you if you are fat. If you weren't so lazy and useless you wouldn't be so fat. No one will ever want to fuck you because you are a fat pig (umm yeah that worked) You must be stupid, because you are fat. You deserve people hurting you, you are fat after all. You will never be pretty as long as you are fat. You are a disgrace as a daughter because you choose to be fat. Fat people never get married, have children, be happy. Fat is a choice and it shows you are a bad person. If you loved me you would be thin. (these are either direct quotes or paraphrasing from my mother) I learnt since I was a little girl that being fat was a bad thing, it was something to be ashamed of and a disgrace to my family. I believed it was something I had done, that I had chosen to be fat. It was a outward sign of the badness, the evilness inside me. My mother started me on diets when I was 8 but no matter what I couldn't loose weight. This infuriated her, she didn't want a fat daughter, she was disgusted in me and saw my fatness as an insult, as if I was being fat to upset her. As the years went by I learnt that it wasn't just the family's view of me being fat. Society in general, has a problem with fat people, they see them as inferior, as stupid and lazy. It is still one of the socially acceptable prejudices in the world. People see fatness as the people's fault and therefore it is ok to hate them for it. As a fat chick, I have had abuse flung at me for being fat from total strangers. I have had people abuse me in pubs, yell insults because I was eating in public. It is, afterall my lack of willpower that has me fat, if I just stopped eating as much then I wouldn't be. I personally have issues with eating disorders, not the people themselves, my neighbour, a good friend, is a recovering anorexic, but with the attitude I have seen within the pysch system over here in New Zealand. People see fat as strong and capable and thin as fragile and needing care. I have watched as people rush all over someone with an eating disorder. Maybe it's because their problem has such a visible symptom. But when I as an fat woman, struggle alone it gets irritating. I live in a city that doesn't have one sexual abuse survivors group, but has a public and a private hospital unit for eating disorders, and I have heard 3 community support groups. It is, in my opinion because society likes the idea of the skinny weak women needing rescued. They can look and go, oh dear she is so sick, I have to do something. I have been told off for "picking on defenseless people" because I spoke my mind in a therapy group, saying fat wasn't an emotion, and then asking what was really going on. You see I am the big strong one, therefore the mean uncaring one. It is that attitude that fat is strong, that fat people are always happy. And yet the adverts on tv talk about fat people as sad and depressed, and when the fat drops away (miraculously on the diet, without effort) they are suddenly happy with themselves. We are taught that fat people hate themselves and skinny people's life is perfect. It's bullshit. Fat people hate themselves because they are taught to, because it is indoctrinated into them for years that they should feel that way. The word fat is almost always paired with ugly. People say I am fat and ugly more than they say they are just fat. And if someone says, they are fat and beautiful generally the response is laughter. People talk about the old nudes (would say the artist, but I can't spell it) and how that used to be seen as beautiful. But it is always spoke in the past tense. We are now seeing some bigger women on television, but it is still believed that the ideal beauty is the pencil shape, the natural curves of a female body as wrong. Personally I don't get it, I don't see anything that attractive of skinny women. But maybe it's just me. I know I have a distorted body image, well
actually, I have been told I have a distorted body image. I sometimes
feel so fat and ugly I can not go out in public, afraid that I am too repulsive.
I sometimes wish I would be able to starve, because then I wouldn't be
such a bad person. My weight is something that I feel shame for.
But also believe it is my fault, that I should do something about it, and
yet I don't. I have lost weight, but it will never be enough.
I can't look in a mirror, hate trying on clothes, hide away in case someone
sees me. I want to believe I am not ugly, not worthless because I
am fat, but at the same time I get that message constantly from the media,
from society, from my family and friends. It is an unforgivable sin
to be fat in this world, and therefore it is ok to torment people because
of it. Top of Page
Saw Karen, our pdn today. She took the initiative and is going to organise more help. We said we didn't want it, but we also told her we are doing the stubborn and proud thing. Basically what happened was the organising of it fell through and we were left unsupported after asking directly for extra support whilst doing this memory work. When we felt abandoned and uncared for that facade, or projection of being strong, and not needing help came up. We didn't want hurt, we didn't want to risk saying we need something. We are tired of hoping for something that never comes. We aren't the best at asking for help, but recently our attempts at asking have fallen on deaf ears. Either the people involved get tired of us, or see us as coping, or just don't want to help. But it's hard to keep asking and get hurt so we gave up asking, just carrying on by ourselves hoping we will make it through. It feels like this thing called support isn't something we are entitled to. Ok that's not entirely true, recently we have received support for a couple of people. But that in itself is scary, we don't know how to react when someone shows caring, it feels nice but at the same time it's so strange and a little frightening. I know that's because we aren't use to it, we don't know how to deal with someone's concern or support. Hopefully those people that have been showing it will stick around, will not become tired of our slow recovery, so we can learn it's safe to reach out and take the support when offer. I have a couple of ideas for pages for the site. Might work on them tomorrow. One is the topic that has been interesting me lately as I watch people online and in real life. That is the manipulative behaviour I see in people. The inability to ask for what you want, but more so, manipulating people to do what you want them to. It's getting to be a soap box for me, so maybe if I write out an essay I can get my head a little clearer, not be so annoyed with what I have been seeing. The other is a discussing on internal worlds, not sure where I want to go with that one yet. It's good to have ideas though, was getting a bit stagnated with what to do next. I know we want to add stuff to the Museum, things about our life inside. But the way it is getting written makes it sound more like a fantasy story, don't know, maybe it's just that it is written in a narrative form. It is our lives reported. We just got interested in showing that lately. And there is still talk of a recovery section in the library, although now we are worried we will sound like we think we are an expert. I don't want that, I just want to write out some of our ideas and opinions about the recovery aspect of our life. Ok I am off to bed before I freeze.
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Been thinking all day about my symptoms. I still worry I don't show enough signs of the abuse. Maybe it's just another form of denial, but I can't help think that the extremeness of the abuse should relate to extreme symptoms. I look at how we live, and it all seems so normal, so devoid of symptoms. I know I have been diagnosed with complex post traumatic stress disorder, and I know that I fit that. But yet I wonder where the other things are. I would of thought we would be self harming badly, or self destructive, or housebound or something. Instead we go about life, living normally, like the next person. We shop, we pay our bills, we take care of ourselves. I can't help but that that doesn't match up. Sure we are in a lot of pain, and we hide out a total shambles most of the day. We want to become housebound, some talk about gutting themselves with a knife, but we don't do any of those things. we just act normal, doing that would draw attention to ourselves, doing it would mean we weren't strong anymore. But I don't understand why we can divert the need and act normal. It just doesn't make sense to me. I suppose denial is still there, still
inching in on our thinking. Last therapy, I found out that Alison
didn't realise Devon had gone into flashback in her office. We immediate
thought, we weren't doing it right, that there was some way of having a
flashback and we weren't doing it that way, which lead quickly into the
flashback really wasn't happening and we were making it all up. I
think sometimes, it would be a lot easier to believe if it wasn't all so
bizarre and extreme. Not saying that other types of abuse isn't bad,
but rather, at least you know about it, people talk about it, there are
things written about it. But my stuff, it all seems so abnormal,
so crazy. I can't find anything like my stuff in the literature.
Maybe because I don't have access to a lot of books, but it is awfully
isolating to not know anyone with a similar story, and makes me wonder
if it's all to bizarre to be real. I have flashbacks and I can't
deny it, but when I am sitting here, looking at it from a distance I have
to wonder. Top of Page
Had therapy, just talked about the stuff that has been in our journal lately, the feelings about symptoms and wondering if any of it is real. Alison seems concerned about the amount of distress we are under. Probably rightly, but at the same time the distress isn't related so much to the work we are doing with her, but rather where we are at the moment. Mainly the fact we are having so many memories at the moment, all the flashbacks and intrusive thoughts. This is happening on it's own accord, rather than what we are doing in therapy. In fact the therapy gives the pain a direction, a purpose. The pain is somehow bearable when it is directed towards recovery, even the really hard stuff, the realisations exactly what we lived through, how our family thought of us, and our own screwed up thinking. It becomes a bearable ache, hurting intensely but also with a feeling of recovery. These last couple of weeks, we haven't had memory recovery work, and the memories are still coming, still hurting us intensely but it's that undirected ache. you act so fucking hopeful all the time
but you aren't fooling us, you might be able to convince everyone out there
that we are all doing so fucking great but we know the truth we know that
life is shit always has been always will be what is the fucking point why
keep putting up this facade your smiley face makes me want to vomit you
know always being the cheerful one holding inane conversations looking
so normal with everyone else maybe most of them don't want to look maybe
most of them are caught up in their own shit but listen up chickadee all
this hopefulness is just killing us it makes us despair for we never get
to be real anymore we are going through hell baby and your need to look
normal is making us all feel unwelcome crazy for having these feelings
there are people here that are totally down to their last piece of strength
and you are making them carry on you are making them be strong because
of your insane need to keep up some fucking image we don't want or need
that image anymore darling we have all had enough its not a crime to grieve
to be distress to be angry we need to feel and if it takes locking you
up so we can I will do that I will take you away somewhere where you will
never be able to find your way out without a guide so listen up chickadee
it's either back down loosen your grip of control or we act we take you
away into that dreaded dark place decision is yours baby girl Top
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Well just heard from Karen, and from what she had said would happen and what she said on the phone, I wouldn't be surprised if this extra support as fallen through. Trying not to jump to conclusions. But she had said after speaking to Bob she would ring me at 3:30 and tell me how it went then Bob would come up some time during the week. Well she rang at 4. I was just about to go back online so was lucky to catch her. She said she didn't have time to talk to me about it, but would go over what happened when she came to see me on Saturday. No mention of Bob or meeting him, she didn't say it was set up, just that she would explain what happened. So, although I know I get paranoid and negative it doesn't look good. And the thing is she had to convince me to try again for support, if it's falling through now, well I don't know how we will cope with that. This thing about trusting people, about giving them a second chance only to get hurt again is getting tiresome. We have had enough hurt, we are tired of putting ourselves out there again and again only to suffer for it. I understand this thing about us being in control and informed during our recovery process, but I have to wish that she had just gone about trying to organising it, without telling us, without some of us getting our hopes up that we will get the support we need. Because having the rug pulled away from under us is far worse. Someone wants to know what we have to do to get the help we need. We tried being healthy and direct, maybe we just have to be manipulative, act out to get attention. Maybe if they knew of the nights we stood on cliff edges, or maybe if she actually stabbed us with that knife instead of just wanting to, people would see we are struggling to remain in control of our life. Yeah we are angry right now, we are scared and tired of this fight, so we reach out, we tell people we aren't handling it, that we need help and they go yes I can see that, will help you, then that help falls through. Why don't they just be upfront, telling us for whatever the reason may be, we are on our own. Really that would be a lot easier to deal with that constantly hoping something better. I am just totally fed up right now. It's triggering off all kinds of shit,
I have to stay in control, keep everything inside before it all comes screaming
out. We don't need to fall to pieces right now. Fuck this is
so stupid, why do we keep trusting, keep hoping. Why do we let it
hurt us so much. We should be use to it. Top of Page
Was writing on one of my email lists today, they were discussing coffins and cult activity. I suppose I should know better, not to talk about my stuff at the moment, but I did, I mentioned stuff about being reborn into the cult, and it all started hitting. We are still very shaky, still half in and out of the past. We haven't had any ritual memories for a while, there was that dog thing, you're dissociating again. Oh yeah sorry, Keep thinking of that ritual, believing I was going to die, remembering the coffin, being lowered into the ground, certain I was never going to come out of it. And the sickening thing, the gratitude towards him when he came and got me, I willingly did anything he wanted, he was my saviour, I said the words without hesitation, complied with the sex, it was just such a relief, to not be dead to not be left there. It was so frightening, I know that was the point, to terrify me into agreeing to anything. The feeling of gratitude, the feeling of being welcomed in to a group. They knew we were vulnerable to that feeling, the feeling of belonging somewhere, so they got us into a heightened state of fear and confusion then played on that to make us do and feel as they wanted. Oh fuck stop analysing this, yeah I know that's important, but at the moment we have terrified kids that need our attention, we have feelings that will need to be expressed. Don't just suddenly move into the intellectual head space, it isn't good for anyone, it's the old habit that has got us into this mess in the first place, ok the second place, the bastards that did all this were the original arseholes but don't be one yourself. that was a terrifying experience, it was then and when we remembered it, when we all had to know what those kids felt we remembered that fear, we need to remember it. Going intellectual only shuts off all those feelings. Keeps us trapped. I didnt like that coffin the sound of the
dirt hitting the lid I thought I was going to die in there you know.
They said I would they said I was dead. When he came and got me he said
I was a dead girl. I know you don't believe me but I am dead they
said so But it took so long, lying there waiting, and no one came.
I screamed and screamed and no one come. My thought hurt and my hands
where I hit at the lid trying to get out. They said no one would
come they told me no one would miss me no one loved me. I know thats
true I know But it was so scary it was. I didnt know what happened afterwards
I glad she got reborn wish I had being dead is lonely and it isnt nice
Top of Page
Well we are starting to stress out about this assessment tomorrow. We are hoping to get some money from ACC but before that we have to have an assessment. We were getting it, but they changed the assessment process, and because of that bitch Lisa, we had it stopped whilst they arranged to re-assess us. Can understand they needed a new reassessment process, the last one was stupid considering its about being abused. I mean some of the questions were ridiculous, they seemed to have nothing to do with being abused, more about having an accident. The hard thing is we have no idea what they will ask. We got worked up for the last one, and it was so simple, but this time it might be a lot more intense. Who knows? That's the hard thing, I don't know, I have no idea what it's going to entail. Shelli is coming with me, I don't know if that will work, we are worried we will start looking strange. Well ok stranger than usual. If it is intense we might get triggered and start switching out of control, weird people might come out. We struggle to keep only the normal ones, the ones that can past as normal out. I know we need to loosen up on that, but at the same time we know some of us are pretty unusual, and I don't know how people can handle something or someone totally out of character to what they expect. Maybe I am not giving them enough credit. Maybe we are just still scared of looking or acting weird. We are still so worried what we look like to others. That judging ourselves, judging our acceptability related on how others feel about us is so tiresome, but yet so comfortable to us. Well of course it is, we won't be rolling in friends if half of us talked to them, not exactly sociably acceptable are we? Face it when most of us have had life experiences that are sick and twisted, we don't make for pleasant conversation, and people want pleasant. They don't want to be challenged, especially their cozy little safe world.... oh bitter and jaded aren't you.... you bet your arse I am darling, People aren't my favourite company, most live such sheltered lives, or if they don't they are just so self absorbed they don't want to think of anyone but themselves, and basically I am sick of it. Hmmm ok, back to what I was saying, which was?? Man I hate coming out after you Jasmean, you leave my head scrambled. Well just got off the phone to my mother,
really it makes me so angry. She has wool that use to be mine.
I told her it would be too thick for what I wanted, but hell no, I wasn't
allowed to say that, she got annoyed with me for making that decision,
said basically she would used it and I HAD to wear what she did.
I don't want this jersey, I will end up throwing it in the cupboard and
never wearing it, but how dare I tell her I didn't want something, hell
should of known I had no right to an opinion. And then she went on
about a pattern she brought, one that is so damn ugly. When I said
that she got shitty, she had brought that pattern for me to wear.
Well I didn't ask her too, I didn't want her too, it was her own damn decision,
and it's not my fault I didn't like it. She doesn't know me, she
doesn't know what I like and what I don't like. Once again how dare
I have taste of my own. She got shitty because I wasn't playing the
good little daughter. I was starting to get a bit angry with her,
talking back to her, but I could feel her temper rising and we got scared.
Silly I know I am safe but when it starts I get that old feeling, that
terror, wanting to run and hide, knowing I am going to get hurt.
Fuck my family is so screwed up. Top of Page
It's late and I am sitting at the computer screen, trying to write something, anything positive, and yet all I want to do is pack up my sorry little life and head off into the unknown. so many of us are thinking about that, heading off to find what lies beyond the woods, what else is out there. I wonder if we all did that what would happen to the body, if we all just packed up and left would this body continue to function or just stop working. We are all so tired of fighting, and so terrified of what is happening to us, the lack of control, the emotions that spill over. The rules that were once held so dear are now disintegrating around us. And that scares us, not only because we have always relied on the knowledge that those rules were there but also because without them, people will see, they will see our pain, the damage that is here, and because of that the shame will only increase. So we dream of disappearing, never seeing another person, never talking or interacting. Total hermit sounds so appealing. But yet at the same time we are aching for someone to know our struggles, to be a witness for our pain. We want someone to know, not only of the past, but also of the effects of that. To bear witness, to walk at our side. But why would anyone want to do that, face it we wouldn't if there was any way we could not remember. Hell we spent years avoiding it, now only to have it thrust in our faces. We are tired though, of going through it alone again, we ache for the one thing we will not allow ourselves to have, the comfort and compassion of another person. And now on top of all of this, a shift is happening. A change in those that regularly interact with the outside world. We realised this a few days ago, that none of the "original" ones are now playing a major part in the outside life of the Shire. Kat is the only one that has remained in that position, and even she didn't play that big a role a few years ago. Now we know we aren't a static system, roles and positions change regularly, but usually slowly. And we worry with the change now, how the people in our lives will handle it, how they will deal if the image they have of us won't match up to the people that are now taking their place in the front position. Kat probably won't go, she is required out because of her relationship with Joy, its an anchor that keeps her from loosing her position in the front line. But so many that people know, that people identify as Shire are only playing minor and supportive roles in that life. I think this is alot to do with where we are. One, the abuse, the pain we are under, it is now to hard for those that were once interacting to continue, they are too hurt, in too much shock, they can't handle all this knowledge. Their whole life was to minimise or ignore our pain, to be ignorant of the life we lead. Now this isn't an option, no one here can truly hold onto "not knowing" even those that major job is to be in denial, to not believe, still know what they are not believing. Then there is the paradoxical thing, with all our distress and hardship there is also improvement, in fact the improvement is what has made the distress and hardship possible. So those that were in the front, can no longer be, the rest won't allow it, they are the ones that are too sick. They are the ones that prefer to remain sick, to be a good girl and not hurt anyone. Now we don't really want to be that good girl, we don't want to hurt anyone but at the same time, we are unwilling to damage ourselves to keep others happy. These switches in position have always
happened, just realised why it's so much of an issue now. Simply
put there are people now that will notice it. Always we have kept
ourselves isolated, alone, so when the shifts happen no one is there to
deal with it. It isn't a problem for us, it's a way of life, regularly
occurring experience. But we have people in our lives that have known
us for over two years, or people that have gotten to know "Shire" well.
Usually these shifts mean a withdrawing, starting again. People in
our lives don't have to adjust to the new Shire, because she is no longer
in their lives. But we are getting better, and we don't want to lose
the friendships we have. But will we anyway. I know Kat being
around still will help, but she can't be a host, she can't be expected
to be out all the time. Not if she's going to survive. Staying
out on a permanent basis is the equivalent to suicide for a person.
I just don't know how people in our lives will cope with this. Top
of Page
Last night, at that bdsm group thingie,
I realised why I am so uncomfortable with doing the D/s discussion night
I had planned on doing with the group. It comes down to this, whilst
I am extra careful not to judge other people's d/s relationship, at least
out loud, I see that others don't seem to worry about it as much.
Hmmm well actually they are very nice when talking about me directly but
when they talk about other ways in general then the prejudice shows.
Now I have developed a pretty thick skin when it comes to that, but still,
it makes me withdraw from speaking openly about how I live my lifestyle,
or else I go on the defensive mode. Both of which result in me removing
myself from the conversation, either directly by withdrawing, or just not
wanting to contribute about stuff because I am too busy stating "it isn't
like that". The group seems to have a majority based direction
when it comes to D/s, it is one that is more on the lenient fun side.
This is good, because it works for them. However when other ways
are discussed it is generally in a derogatory way. I am tired of
explaining I don't bark out orders or punish constantly. Yes I have
rigid expectations, I have a lot of rituals and requirements. But
that means the slave I am with needs to like those things too. She
or he thrives on the control, the ritualised aspects of our D/s relationship.
I do not have to scream at them, order them around. It is not constantly
"on your knees bitch" like was implied. I am now confident in the
manner of which my D/s takes shape. I no longer feel I have to change
to be acceptable. However I do not feel comfortable discussing my
side of the lifestyle, I do not want to have to defend it. Yes if
it wasn't consensual, if it hadn't of been negotiated beforehand, then
yeah have a go at me, I would deserve it. But I just can't be bothered
with the way the more "extreme" d/s is talked about in the group.
I sat there last night with new people, hearing how extremeness was about
barking orders, always punishing, and well basically either offensive or
pathetically funny. I joked as well, it is the way I deal with it,
I wasn't going to show that it was annoying me, I wasn't going to get into
that defensiveness of having to justify my relationship. But
it does mean that I will not be putting myself out there. Ok maybe
I am just too sensitive, but right now I don't need it. I am tired
of standing on the outside of groups, never truly belonging. Funny
thing is its ok, and actually beneficial to be extreme in play, even
when someone else isn't, but extreme in d/s just gets derision.
Ok well, I wrote this all out only to find a journal had been started, just a hint people, if you write a journal let the rest of us know. Anyway, cut and paste is my friend. We are just so scared. We don't know if we can make it through this. There isn't anything anyone can do, and yet we are screaming for someone to do something. It feels like we have been abandoned. Even though we know we haven't. My intellectual therapy understanding knows all that can possibly be done, has been, but yet that sad scared feelings are aching for someone to come and help. It makes things hard, there is so much guilt here at feeling like a victim, of wanting someone to come and rescue us. We really need someone to walk with us in this, but we can't trust anyone to see us at our worst. There is so much damage, it feels like they won. They set out to destroy us, and although they didn't succeed in killing the body, they destroy the child that was their responsibility. I wonder all the potential she had, that girl, what could of happened to her, if only. It's that if only bit that gets us, that hurts and like the why question can't be answered. We will never know what we could of been, what we could of achieved, if we had been treated just a little more like a human child. Instead what is left is a broken person, broken so much that we will never be able to become well. We might get better than we are now, at least I hope that's a possibility, but we will never get fully well, we will always have that damage to deal with. It feels so overwhelming, looking at our life, at what we are now facing. Ignorance is bliss in so many ways. We can't pretend anymore, we can't pretend we weren't hurt, and we can't pretend that the damage wasn't done. We just don't know how to keep going looking
at all that damage. Having it so obvious now. There is so much
here to find a way to keep going. We are getting so tired of being
normal, and yet we panic at the idea of giving that up, of truly being
ourselves. What if people see, what if they hate us. What if
the friendship we have developed are destroyed again because we are too
sick. It's such a big fear. That we will be too much to deal
with, that people will get so sick and tired of dealing with us, with this
damaged distressed person. What if they tell us to get over it or
go away.
My mind is spinning, I want to be sick,
want to hurt myself. Think about dying, anything just can't do this
anymore, can't keep learning stuff about our life. What's the point
of all this, so many memories so many new things, no time to process any
of it. Tonight I was eating dinner, just sitting in front of the
tv, it was suppose to be normal, but then it all comes rushing in, the
abuse, the smell moves and it isn't the soup anymore, the taste in my mouth,
why can't I just eat a meal, why does everything have to be something bad,
why can't I just have one safe place in my life. And what the fuck
were they thinking, its disgusting, its sick, and I have to deal with that.
I have to live knowing this happened. I can't face food, I don't
want anything in my mouth. I can still smell it, I can still taste
it. I hurt, my body is aching from a beating that happened 20 some
years ago. Maybe it would be better to just go jump off a cliff,
never have to face any of this again, maybe this is all there is left for
us, years of suffering. I don't want to live like this.. I am tired
of eating shit, I am tired of knowing my family, the people you are suppose
to look to for safety and comfort, planned this stuff, stood around and
laughed. My grandparents, the image of loving people that spoil their
grandchildren, that give them candy and hugs, that will never be for me,
instead I have to deal with them beating me as I ate up their faeces, and
then getting so turned on by it that they fucked me for a few hours after.
This is the life we have it and it just isn't worth it, it isn't worth
all the pain. I can't handle this shit anymore. I really can't.
I want to scream out to someone to help but instead I am sitting alone,
shaking and crying. It just isn't fair. Top
of Page
It's hard to keep things looking good, I don't really want to keep things looking normal. I don't want to have lovely conversations, I don't want to smile and nod as inside things twist and turn and people scream out in pain and fear. It is taking up too much effort, it is making things too difficult. I can keep it up for short periods, but even then it means we have to take out a long time to regroup. I need time out, to fall to pieces without having to worry what people will think, without having to worry what I will think. We are not handling this, we are not moving to a place where it is any better. Maybe we should get locked up in a ward somewhere, and just fall to pieces. Yeah right that isn't an option, hospital does not allow us to fall to pieces, they like everyone else want us to be normal. Anything else is not acceptable. God I am so sick of this, why do we keep going why don't we just give up. This life isn't worth the effort, we have had too much pain and we can't handle anymore. I am tired of feeling so alone, last night coming back, there wasn't anyone there, no one to tell me I didn't have shit in my mouth, no one to tell me I was going to be ok, no one to get angry that it was done to me. I was just alone in an empty room, without anyone to comfort me or be a witness. That's the hardest part, going through this all alone, feeling so uncared for. People say they care, and I know, at least on some level they do, but when my world is rumble around me I feel just so completely alone. Met Bob today, he's this new nurse. I don't know how it will go. He seems pretty ok, but will we be able to trust him, will he handle what I have to say. Or will he be yet another person that can't handle us, that turns away because we are so damaged, or just wants us to be ok, to think happy thoughts and move on. Fuck if we could think happy thoughts then we wouldn't need someone. We don't want to be happy, let's face it, we want and more importantly, need to feel all this shit, to allow the emotions that needed to be express back then finally to have the voice they need. But we also need something else, the thing we never have had, someone there with us, to walk beside us. Maybe this Bob will be able to do that, that is why he is working with us, not to talk about life, and moving on, but to hear our stories to witness our pain. We don't want someone to talk us out of feeling bad, or to make everything ok, but we also don't need some silent statue just sitting watching our pain, after all that's no different than an empty room. We want someone to be with us, to voice their concern, their comfort and compassion. Maybe, I don't know I, I mean I know I
am depressed, but still I keep thinking maybe it just isn't worth it.
I know that others don't see it that way, but they aren't living it.
They want things to get better, for me to stop being so sad. But
I can't do that, I hurt too much to push it inside, and that's what got
me in this mess in the first place. But sitting here tonight, I can't
stop thinking it would be better to drive to the cliff tonight. That's
not the answer I know, but still can't stop thinking it might be the only
way out of this. Top of Page
I want to write about how well I am doing.
I want to write about the hope I have for the future. I want to write
positive feelings. I want to write something inspirational.
But I can't. I can't write anything but despair. I can't write
about my dreams for the future. I can't write the lies that will
make others happy. I have no hope, I have no dreams, I have no future.
Inspiration and positivity is something beyond me. I don't want to
say this, I don't want people worrying. So what should I say, should
I smile and say we are doing fine. Or should I be honest and say
I don't want to see the sun rise in the morning. I want to end it
all tonight. I want to get on my bike and drive to the beach and
jump off the cliff. Why don't I? Well other than having no
light on the bike, and risking getting pulled over, I don't know.
Maybe it's that belief that I don't have the right to end my own life,
my needs, my desires aren't important enough to act on. I have always
lived my life for other people, doing what other people wanted. So
now I don't know how to do anything different. So I know tomorrow
will come and I will see it, and that will hurt more than anything, even
more than the pain we live with. Because we have to wake up and start
again. Death is the option we want to take, then there would be nothing,
just that emptiness we crave so much. We can't of course, face it,
we can't even be ourselves. People want their "Shire" the image that
will fit. They want that, they are use to that, and for years we
have been that for them. That is what was the prerequisite of being
a front line worker was for years. The ability to portray what people
want from us. Now that is changing and people don't like it.
They don't like that those taking over aren't weak doormats, that they
are angry people, or unusual people. Shire was meant to be that quiet
unobtrusive one. Those that know us as friends, want only Kat, those
that work with us in therapy want the image of a compliant tearful victim.
So maybe it is better that we do die, then we wouldn't be disappointing
them. Ok I am grasping at straws to make it possible to kill ourselves.
But I do wonder which would be the bigger disappointment, the death of
the body, or the alterations in presentation. You know life isn't
fair, I know it isn't fair for a lot of people, but I don't really give
a damn about what it is for others, all I know is what it is for me.
I don't want to keep doing this. What is the point, and well therapy,
there isn't much point in that either. Our therapist is irritated
at us, she can't understand why we are so distress, well like to see her
go through this and not feel distressed and alone and negative. She
hasn't got all the answers, but I really don't feel she gives a damn.
She just does her bit then moves on. Not like we are asking for her
to take us home and be our mommy. We just want a little understanding,
we just want someone to acknowledge we are going through hell, and we aren't
making it. All these professional people, they don't seem concerned,
not in the slightest. Not going to kill ourselves to prove a point
or anything, but fuck why can't they see we are falling apart over there,
why can't they see how close to the edge we are. Top
of Page
I was worried today, when I read Joy's journal, I thought that I would have to spend my day making her feel better. It isn't about my relationship with Joy, I don't mind being there for her, in fact it is part of a relationship. You are there for each other to support each other. I just worried that she would be like others in my life, she would suck me dry, rather than wanting someone for support and encouragement. I should of realised Joy didn't want to use me up, but my previous experience with others, as well my current stresses meant I was worried this would turn out the same. I knew Joy was stressed, but what I found when we met her online was a young woman taking control over her life. I was so proud of her. And in a way proud of myself. Part of our relationship was both of us learning to be strong with our own needs and desires for life. When I met her she would have never stood up for herself, so I feel that me being in her life is helping her learn she deserves better. Yes she was upset, and I supported her through that, but it wasn't a drain upon me, it felt good, it was about me caring for her, rather than her using me. That's what friendships should be like, one party shouldn't end up feeling like they are being used or overlooked, and I didn't feel that with her. It's nice to know that I can be there for someone and not feel like I am given up my needs at the same time. I am also just so happy that she has found a voice, that she is able to begin to make a stand for what is right for her. Celi cleaned our keyboard tonight, ok now it looks good but the space bar is playing up, If we don't hit it in the right place it doesn't work. This is going to drive us insane. I am a reasonably fast typer, and having to keep an eye on the spaces being there is going to slow us down. She drives us crazy at times. She is freaking at the state of the house at the moment, she wants to clean it from the ground up. It is going to take up all our days for weeks if we let her out. She is so obsessive. It will never be tidy enough for her. But I suppose she is right the house isn't at it's best. We were hoping that when we got the new bed she could do it then. But since our savings have had to go on getting the television fixed the bed is pushed back. So maybe she will have to come out soon and go ballistic for a while. At least she will be happy. Saturday is the dry-run play party for
the bdsm group. I don't know if we will go. I mean, it's not
like Kat will play on anyone, she doesn't play outside of a relationship
and Joy is on the other side of the world. There is the concern that
being the only single female dom there and a number of new people coming
that there will once again be that assumption she will step forward.
But we have all changed now, and no one will pressure us into playing.
Maybe no one would think about it, but sometimes there is that unspoken
message. It would be nice to be normal for a while, to go somewhere
and have some fun. But at the same time, this being normal has a
cost, a big cost at the moment. We do the normal thing and then everyone
falls apart. There is a cost now for being normal. I don't
know if I can do it, and I don't know if we can be around these people,
any people without feeling like the crazy one. We have always felt
weird, but we like weird. Crazy feels bad though, crazy feels like
we don't belong anywhere, that we will never be ok. I want
a time, a place where I can be myself, where the past isn't always effecting
me for the worst. I want normal. I want to be like everyone
else, not like the crazy one. So can I go on Saturday and just have
a time to be Shire, without all the other shit. And then there is
that point. We won't be able to stay Kat all night, now I know that
isn't going to be a big issue, because face it, not everyone, or probably
anyone, would be able to tell anyway, and since Kat's partner isn't here,
then it's not like she has to actually be there. Now in the past
that wouldn't worry us, we switch quite happily and no one really notices,
but now it's just another indication we are crazy, we are different.
It will only be a few hours, and we can't keep the stable front.
That's mostly because the pressure we are all under makes staying out too
tiring. Once again our past is interfering with our present.
Aint life a bitch. We will see how we go, and then of course, if
we go Billy is going to get grouchy as he will miss most of his programme.
Poor chap. Top of Page
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