Dancing Candle, Dancing Mind

I’m sitting here in meditation, staring at a candle flame, trying to just be within each moment. Just sitting there, watching this little flame.

It’s an unusual candlelight, this one. Although there are no drafts or fans or otherwise air movement about, this little flame is dancing about like crazy. Up and down amd left and right. Nearly sputtering out then bursting forth ablaze again.

As I sit here I realize that this little candlelight is doing exactly what my mind is doing just now. Nearly going out into dissociated haze. Jumping alight with this slim thread of what feels like peace that I’ve been chasing all day. Dancing left dancing right. Am i under threat or not? Do I cut my losses and run, to never see my therapist again? Or to go in tomorrow after a three-week absence and spill my guts about how much I have been struggling and how even though i know it’s only a case of the transference bug I still have the feeling that she will be going away from me soon?

Up down left right dance Splinty dance.

And then as I sit here I realize that despite the wild machinations and meanderings that this little flame is going through…..it remains lit. There is a commitment to itself, as if to say hey I may be a crazy little flame and I may be all over the place, but I am still giving off light and color and warmth. I’m still here.

And so it is with me. Banged up as i may be, as anxious as I seem to need myself to be, I’m still here.

So I will be jumpy and twitchy and be unable to keep still–yes. But I made it. I know that this show is just the drama queens’ (the Teenagers’) way of saying we don’t like this this is just like all the rest. But it’s not.

It’s 2010. I am a grown woman. I have chosen to remain here. I may be dinged and the Voices may be screaming but my light’s still on.

Now the only remaining question is what do I do with the next 25 hours. Really–ya gotta laugh.

Dancing Candle, Dancing Mind

I am humbled and feel tremendous gratitude toward the courage, compassion and wisdom in the submissions posted for this month’s Blog Carnival Against Child Abuse. I know well how much guts it takes to put out our stories and the work involved in helpful steps we can take in order to gain and regain our lives. Thanks so much to all of you for sharing your stories, your wisdom, and your artwork. Ok, I’ll stop my ramblings now–on to the good stuff!

POETRY

I’m starting with the artsy stuff first because, well, I’m an artsy person.

Susan Kingsely-Smith gives us a work of great beauty. She says: There is hope there is Light. The Road to Freedom from the Past is full of potholes and yet there is hope TITLE How do I? I will

RIck Belden tells us of the pain in nogt being validated when we told. Heartbreaking TITLE scapegoat’s cross

ART THERAPY

Amanda Kobeshimi submits some beautiful photos that accompany a description of a survivor with a compelling tale of life with DID TITLE Season’s Greetings from the Demon World

HEALING/THERAPY

Always a popular topic, especially so during the holiday season, when so many of us struggle.

Laura aka Simply Green tells us how to use compassion to help your abused child TITLE Compassionate Parenting: Meeting Needs

One of my favorite writers, Darlene Ouimet, gives us a blog from Emerging From Broken on the beginning of her emotional healing. She tells it like the process thru healing was for her. I identify with and learn so much from her–if you don’t follow her you really should. TITLE The Beginning of Emotional Recovery :: Emerging From Broken

Pandora, a dear friend, says: This is a discussion about a therapy session in which an alter of mine came out, bringing with her all the hideous and abject horror of her experiences of systemic child sexual abuse. TITLE Child Minder – Paul:Week Four

Paul from Mind Parts says “here are some thoughts on what are the essential tools to healing from dissociation and trauma” TITLE Cultivating Skills

Darlene Ouimet shares one of my favorite blogposts as well. It’s a hot-button topic and one that puts me up on a soapbox quite often, too. TITLE Forgive The Abusers? A bit of a Rant :: Emerging from Broken

ADVOCACY AND AWARENESS

From Tracie fills us in on Awareness of new and obtrusive TSA procedures, a very hot topic for this busy holiday season TITLE Vacation Choice: Naked Pictures or Federally Mandated Molestation

The wise Patricia Singleton asks: “Are you aware of who you are because of your struggles in spite of your struggles? Now THAT is a good question! Read what she has to say TITLE A Short Biography – Who Am I?

Joanaa Tiger talks about the senselessness of violence giving us ten instances wherein warning signs could have been acted on to avert horrid crimes TITLE Criminal Justice Degrees Guide

AFTERMATH

VoicesUnsilenced is a very powerful writer of the aftermath of child abuse. She tells her story with courage and fortitude in the face of trauma. Here’s what she has to say TITLE won

Nesher gives a great informational piece on the aftermath of trauma. TITLE Childhood Abuse and Clinical Depression in Adults

SURVIVOR STORIES

My bud Hope For Trauma talks about the stress of the holiday season on her alters. I put this piece in this section because her words echo throughout the year. TITLE 5k’s & Turkey Burgers

From Tracie says “This is a great project for survivors to participate in.” It’s yet another way to speak out, tell your story, and obliterate the silence” TITLE My Name Is Project

Patrticia Singleton talks about choosing a position of gratitude throughout the year, not only during the holidays. Strong piece! TITLE Thanks Giving

Tim Fischer gives us a compelling survivor story. Spend a few moments with his powerful images and notice what your mind thinks about it TITLE The Ghost of Halloween Past

My dear DragonHeartSong takes a courageous look at multiples and their struggles TITLE The holidays approach – good news; bad news

IN THE NEWS

Paul at MindParts gives some thoughts on the recent Oprah Winfrey show with 200 men who have survived child abuse. Interesting TITLE Why I Did Not Appreciate Oprah’s “200 Men” Show

Steven and Debra give us a fabulous poem on recent changes at the TSA. Read this twice. TITLE Opt-out to the Beltway TSA and Their Airline CEO Cronies: Take Your Planes and Shove ‘Em

AND FINALLY…..HOLIDAY TRIGGERS!!!!!

Patricia Singleton says sometimes shutting down is all that you can do to get through the Holidays. Hear hear. TITLE Shutting Down To Get Through The Holidays

My buddy Sharon Sanquist gives us some survival tips on how to deal with moment-to-moment stressors and triggers during this challenging time for so many of us. She’s a great writer and has a way of bringing clarity to just about any confusing issue. Go down to Comments to read her valuable help!

Lisa Kift the ever-wise creator of the Relationship Toolkit also gives us some survival tips. If you haven’t been to her website–do so today. Skip down to the comments section to see what she has to say. If you’ve not been to Lisa’s Toolkit on her website — you need to go!

My good buddy Ravin has been through so much in her life. She has more compassion in her soul than any ten people I know. Read her story of what the Holidays are for her in the Comments section below. I prize her life and so should you!

I personally did not write a blog for dealing with the holidays because I lost track a day or two before Thanksgiving. Meaning I just faded away. Apparently some of the littles were out and about, why I do not know. Since I have been seeing the Mighty C, I’ve been co-conscious. My personal history is that Christmas Eves I was brutalized more than any other time of the year. So–I lost a few days. Could be worse, could be raining. I get used to it as the weeks pass, but it’s always a bumpy ride at the beginning of the season. My wife is great, she knows it’s a tough time for me. We always end up doing all the fun stuff that’s plentiful here. And it ends up being a good time as I get involved as an adult. But it’s a rough go for awhile.

Again, thanks so much to contributors here. It has been an amazing opportunity for me to be allowed the privilege to read and consider their strength, wisdom, and compassion. Happy Holidays where you can get them! And remember–it’ll be over soon 😉

The Night I Lost All Hope

May be mildly triggering.

So i was sitting in therapy, telling C that i’m feeling pretty darn well. That i had gotten myself out of my Black Pit of Depression and how it worked.

Then, because i had had my first Christmas Eve Flashback prompted by seeing the first christmas lights of the season, the conversation naturally ventured there.

I have had this repetitive flashback for what seems my entire life. It frustrates me because it’s far from the worst that was done to me. I’ve gotten pretty good at dissembling holiday-related triggers and flashes–but never understood this one. I don’t think anyone other than my wifey knows this one. Maybe, i just don’t recall it.

So, after a couple of minutes of C saying open ur eyes sweetie look at me sweetie jesus look at your posture look at me be present with me…i launched into it.

Every year we would go to visit Uncle Norman’s house on Christmas Eve for several hours. I think this one time i was maybe 6 or 7, whenever kids lose their teeth. I am looking at it now and i look like about 6ish.

Anyway, Uncle Norman had gotten to me earlier in the day but it doesn’t matter really what happened. In this flashback there are around 15 people or so, very jovial atmosphere Xhristmas songs on the radio blah blah. Uncle Norman is sitting in his recliner across the room from the tree and the presents. He motions to me and says come here, sit on my lap. No that’s ok i reply and try to leave the room. Mom catches me by the wrist and says You’re Very Rude, go sit on Uncle Norman’s lap. No, i don’t wanna. She swaps me on the butt and drags me over to him. Mind you, i had told her the previous summer what he had been doing to me.

So i’m forced on Uncle Norman’s lap. Actually i am sitting on his hand and he’s movung his fingers around under me. I say he’s like diddling me. Fifteen people are in that room, everybody jollying it up, and he is messing with me. He keeps sorta readjusting himself and i can feel his hardon.

I have two parts to this flash i tell C. There’s a sound in my ears like a Swooosh and i alternate between seeing the Christmas tree across the room in a sort of tunnel vision, like a kaleidoscope. The lights were blinking and reflecting off the gobs of tinsel. Then i hear swoooooosh again and i am looking at myself, sitting there on his lap. Just like watching a movie.

At this point in the telling of this story my thoughts become very disjointed. All those people around. I can hear all that laughter as if it was far away down a long tunnel. Mom knew, yes my mother knew but she did nothing, just laughing aling with the rest of them. Ho ho ho.

I say all those people and nobody did a thing. Jesus. It’s silent in the room then this pops out of my mouth:

That’s when i gave up. I learned about absolute powerlessness and futility and utter lack of control at that moment. I gave up that night. I lost all hope. Wow, that’s right.

That is when i lost all hope and realized i was utterly alone.

Silence. C says wellthatwasthenthisisnowlookatmehonwyit’s2010nowrighthellloooootherewhereareyou?

I hear myself say that is the Black Pit exactly. When i get that complete depression this is exactly what it felt like on that Christmas Eve. That’s where it comes from.

C looks at me. Wow honey that is really something. So when you go down that black path…..it’s really something that happened 44 years ago and you’ve juat now realized it? Yeah you’d think….No says C. This deserves incredible congratulations this is a huge, huge connection. Don’t go blowing off your acconplishment.

Ok. Silence for abit as i sit there, srunned. It’s exactly the same feeling, man. Wow.

C starts talking about how pedophiles do these things etc etc get off on the power etc etc i’m not really able to focus.

Then she says i want you to know something sweetie. If i had been in that room i would have broken every one of his ten fingers. This was a horrible thing blah blah and on we go from there.

The day i gave up hope. It’s so important to figure this shit out.

Cat Therapy and CBT

I’ve been having abit of a bad day. I can’t seem to be able to relax, to just let things flow. My home has some bad mojo in it at the moment, but I’ve put up some pretty good boundaries and that shouldn’t be impacting me as much as I am allowing it to do so.

I’d had a bit of a shin thing going on, so my normal recourse in these situations, running, is out. I’ve gone down my list but I just can’t seem to get to my coping stuff today. It’s comprised of various creative outlets but today it feels like I’m made of cardboard, just a box of nothing much. My therapist would advise me to try doing something even if I don’t feel it and she would be right. But for some damn reason I just can’t get there from here. Even my meditation is off today.

Sometimes you’re the windshield sometimes you’re the bug. Today I am definitely the latter.

I was sitting on the couch, trying to be conscious of my breath, shedding each icky though as it arose, one after the other, when my huge cat Silas jumped up and laid down on the wide leather arm. He looked at me, closed his eyes, and instantly fell asleep. I absentmindedly started to scratch his favorite place, right behind the ears. He started to purr (Silas has the loudest purr of any cat I’ve ever owned, which is many many cats), leaned into my hands. His eyes opened, he gave me a good “meow”, then closed them again and renewed his pleasure mode of just digging being petted.

It hit me like a thunderbolt. Dharma was giving me a present of my cat just at that moment. I noticed how completely he was in each moment. Just being fuzzy, warm, comfy and cared for. He wasn’t thinking about the past or considering future paths. He wasn’t thinking about filing quarterly taxes he couldn’t seem to get to today.

Silas was just noticing how happy he was in each moment.

I petted my cat for twenty minutes, just noticing him noticing. I became aware that my body was releasing tension I hadn’t even realized was there. Just sitting there, listening to a deep rich cat purr and allowing him to be happy.

Allowing him to be happy. I forget to do that for myself. I have this life that is healing, but I’ve been missing the big point of why the healing is taking place. It’s not that running or painting or writing or playing piano make me happy in and of themselves. These activities allow me to give myself permission to experience myself thru their action. Sure, there’s dopamine release and endorphins when I’m running or doing yoga.

I’ve misunderstood CBT for a long, long time. I have always thought substitution of positive activities to be distractions from what is really going on. So it rankles as much as it helps. But just as thru the actions of my perpetrator the person I was had changed, it’s thru self-expression that I am able to learn who I am becoming.

As I type this I am staring at the light of a candle. I breathe softly on the wick and it moves. Thru action it is altered. It’s essence remains the same. It burns, plain and simple. I can directly impact its motion but it stays true to itself. Just burning, one moment at a time.

There is an essence in me that burns serenely. Just like the candle, just like Silas, who’s still sleep-purring next to me. It’s so simple and yet so hard. Now all I need is a cat I can put in my pocket and I’ll be all set. I’ve decided to rest for the remainder of this day. Non-harm to all sentient beings includes me, after all.

Permission to be Stronger

I have therapy homework this week. I asked for it, usually C will say go live your life then tell me about it. But this past Wednesday when I said just tell me what to think about this week I need a rest from my head, she gave me some. She didn’t just spit out a rote thisiswhatitellmyclientstodowhentheyaskforhomework kinda thing. She looked piercingly in the distance for a few minutes then started to talk.

She said think about giving yourself permission to be stronger. Give yourself permission to come into your own, to sort of give birth to the very strong woman who you are. She says I’d be interested in what you have to say about that. You don’t have to DO anything right now, you don’t have to CHANGE anything right now, don’t work that hard on it. Just entertain the idea and let me know what you came up with next week.

It’s a good assignment for me. I have lived my entire life from a perspective that dictates that I just respond to what comes flying at me. Good bad indifferent, I fend off the world. It saddens me to realize that at 50 years of age, some 38 years after my abuse stopped and nearly 15 years in therapy that I am still viewing the world from a victim stance. I asked her–my god when do I stop being a victim? She said you are very astute just getting that this is where your brain functions tells me you are beginning to get over it.

Whenever C talks about me taking charge of my own life I kinda freak. I know I do so because she will say wow check out your body language hon this is making you really anxious. Why is that?

It’s too much responsibility to have control over my life. C says you’re a successful businesswoman and after all that happened to you you’re still here. You have a relationship that might not be perfect but you’ve been able to keep it together for over 15 years and that is amazing. She says you’re already doing it, you are already taking control, you just don’t want to admit it. Why?

I say then I guess I don’t know. C says not so easy darlin’ you’ll have to think about it and open your mouth about it. She says I know it feels like you’re shooting in the dark right now but that’s okay because if you start to fall I will let you know and you can think about something else.

So here I am. My mind is going ummmmmm….got nothing. But there are some things I do know about this. I know that it scares me to let go of my primary perp. As horridly as I was mutilated by the man, he was all I had. I have the tendency to disregard my newborn health and progress as much as I treasure it. I suppose he has been with me my whole life and without him I still feel like I’m nothing. Nobody is there. Like shouting down an empty well.

As long as my perp has continued to strongly influence my behavior I am not alone. Somebody else knows what happened to me. And until I can really truly and fully let go of that self-perception as someone who was horridly abused as a kid and who had all these really horrendous things happen to her at least I have an identity.

For nothing will happen to me in the future that can have anything close to that kind of impact on me. Seems like my life was over at 12 when the bastard finally stopped going after me and just vanished into thin air.

And so I have held on to this identity I have some meaning in the world.

Just reading the words that are coming up on this screen causes me trememdous self-loathing, shame, a sense of being totally full of shit. Jesus. There it is again, victim victim victim. Even if it’s only me doing the abuse. This is what I know.

My readers will know that I am entranced by the concept of neuroplasticity. I see literal images in my mind of the old road and Springtime that’s new neural pathways. I’ve been having some great success with taking these gambles, and it gets easier to seek them out the more I do it. But this one causes me to completely recode my awareness of my place on the planet. From somebody whose only value is to be used as sadistic cruelty to an adult woman who controls her own destiny, who has tremendous power to determine her life.

So. How do I give myself permission to become myself? So far I’ve been doing okay trying to just change my behaviors and the messages coming at me from my mind. And then sit in C’s office and let her tell me the significance of acting as I have. “It’s your life, is that what you wanna do?” Yikes. I didn’t even know what she was talking about the first time the words came from her mouth. Now I’m getting an inkling of the concept. Scares the shit out of me.

One tiny piece at a time. This is the secret I suppose. So my little bit for the next few days is to think about letting that victim thing go. I can feel changes, a few at least. For instance, I no longer have to hang onto the idea that no one has ever suffered as much as I have. My entire life I have had to have “the worst” to justify my intense pain. Not so much any more. Not at all really. I now tend to embrace in my mere survival. I am comforted by not being so isolated, so totally alone in the history of my anguish. AS long as I was isolated from the rest of humanity I could remain some kind of monster. I am not alone so not isolated so not a monster.

I am a human being, a miracle of kids’ toughness and ingenuity. Just like everyone else on the planet. So I am much better able to establish an identity that is separate myself from other people in terms of human need. Boundaries? Son of a bitch, I have them. This is pretty damn huge for me.

As I’m typing I can hear the voices screeching. Now I can tell them to just shut up, which more and more often is working. I am like the first nuclear bomb test. Nobody knew if the thing was even going to work but by damn it did. And it changed the world.

Certainly there will be more to come on this topic but it is time to put it away for now. Because I said so. Because it’s good self care to put this away for now and go do something. I think I’ll take a little run.

So…Coping Works?

So. Coping skills. For my welloveradecade in therapy I have been consistently bitched at about coping skills. About doing things that will make me feel better.

Until I began working with C I always considered the counsel to invest in coping skills to get me out of whatever spin cycle I’d find myself. I always thought, oh great just give me a list of stupid meaningless shit to do, that’ll take away the horrid things that have happened to me. Listening to Eric Clapton will make up for sodomy. Thanks–here’s your gigantic check.

The first time I went to see C she says listen honey I can’t save your ass. You have to invest in yourself, you have to decide to get out of the morass in your head. Ok, so how do I do that exactly? By finding things to do to make you feel better, even if it’s only temporary. The more time you stay outta that place the longer you’re able to resist it.

Huh. Well nobody has put it to me that way before. So how do you know when a patient is getting better.

Ready to have your head blown off your shoulders? C looks at me says I know it’s working when they begin to live lives that are richer. Wow. Really? Yeah, you’re here on Earth now right? It’s about having the best time (however you define that) you can while you’re here.

What do you do for fun? I don’t really k ow what that means. Well, fun is things that take you out of your spin so you learn to tolerate it.

So. Why this clicked at this time with this stranger I Dunno and don’t really care. So I started working out a little bit. On my wii. Fun. Tried doing a run/walk thing for Pride. Really fun’. Tried painting again. Good times, adored it. Started running outside totally cool. Got a keyboard to teach myself piano. Fabulous. Stop compulsively writing writing writing the same repetitive shit. Good.

So, here I am. Coping. It works. I feel a budding sense of control. And as it turns out fun is a good thing. It doesn’t erase any of my past of course. But unless I’m in a total spinout I can choose to feel better.

Score.

“You’re Healing”

So I go in to see C, wondering how to describe what happened to me this past week. I talked for a few minutes, setting up the innocuous events that led to my going away.

After three or four minutes, during which C is listening to me intently, she says so you’ve had a traumatic event but you got over it in what, a couple of days? Congratulations that is great. See, your healing is showing. You’re healing.

Ergh. Avoid eye contact just sit there spacing out. Wow are you away someplace right now. Am I? Yes you are. I want to keep talking about this says C. Why is it so difficult for you to accept that you are getting better by leaps and bounds?

Well, for one it doesn’t feel like that just now. Just now all I feel is guilty.

C stares at me. Ok I’m going to stick with this for now anyway. Look at me. Look at me. Ok stay with me now. What bugs you about the idea that you’re healing? I don’t know sorry not good enough.

Well, it’s scary, makes me feel so vulnerable because I feel that while I’m
Busy being present and making new neuro-pathways I am defenseless.

You are not defenseless says C. Far from it. You were, yes very true. But you have enormous power as an adult woman in this society. So what is it?

I’m scared because it’s just so much responsibility. Ah HAH I knew it says C. Healing doesn’t mean you have to be Superwoman. She says if there was a Superwoman I’d follow her around like a dog. The line of dykes lining up for her would stretch across the country.

Hahahahaha I love it when you crack me up I say. I would be her Yoko Ono. Hahahahaha.

Anyway says C. All this work you’ve done over all these years, it’s paying off bigtime for you.

C says healing is about understanding what you want and don’t want and asserting those things in your life. It means that if something is too much you can let it go or communicate about it. It’s real power.

I have lived my entire life fending off what comes flying at me, hoping that whatever the next thing is it won’t be too horrific. So you’re saying it’s about making decisions, making choices? C says exactly yes. She says the more you trust your power and your healing the less time you’ll have to spend in triggerville.

It’s in trusting yourself. Look at me no look into my eyes. Silence silence. It’s about trusting yourself. Trusting your healing.

So I say so life and presence it’s a proactive thing as opposed to a reactive way of seeing the world? C looks, says yes yes that’s a good way to put it.

Silence for a moment. C says are you working on something or are you gone? No it’s just…when do I stop being a victim? C looks rather stunned. You are really wise for somebody who has just gotten thru a traumatic event. Silence. I say yeah well I’m so sick of it how do I make that transformation?

C says you’re doing it right now. Rebuilding those neural pathways. In bits and pieces. Not big stuff like this past weekend exactly but hey you got thru and you learned some important things. Right? No major damage except for that scratch over your eyebrow…did u hurt urself or anyone else? Nope. Did you get blasted or take a bunch of your drugs or go get hash or anything like that? Nope. How did u get that cut? Menopause zit aha chit-chat about hormones etc for abit.

Silence for abit. It’s so sad, the crap that happened to me, y’know? I am just so sad. C says I know. Hahaha yes I suppose you do. Why am I so sad? Because you are letting alot of shit go and there’s sadness to it.

So. I piece together three major points in that hour. C tells me to write them down but don’t think about them, I just don’t want them to be lost. I say shouldn’t I try to look into them, see how they make me tick? C says no. We’ve done enough hard work today I don’t want that to be diminished. You’re getting ahead of yourself we’ll pick them up when it’s time.

For now, think about trusting yourself. Think about healing and how freeing, how proactive. Just let that one rattle around in your head.

The biggest difference for me between C and all the others who came before her is that I believe that she is really listening to me. I believe that when she says something it’s what she honestly believes–not what she thinks I should hear. This lack of manipulation allows me to trust her and to value what she says to me. It makes me responsible and truly in charge. With help from her, not by making me lean on her. She shoots straight from the hip so I can hear her without having to decide whether she is full of shit or not. She is real.

Is What Is

****MASSIVE TRIGGER WARNING****

So last night I wS watching this show on tv called Intervention. They follow an addict around for a few days then do an Intervention on them and send them away to recover. Much of this show is about how out of control these people are. And there’s always, always a trauma. Last nite the gal was date-raped at 20 and it completely devastated her.

Then this morning I get a thing in my invox asking how ppl deal with trauma anniversaries. I’m apoplectic.

I do not in any way intend to minimize anybody’s traumas in this post. I understand fully the magnitude of such life-altering experience.

But I willalso say that there is no way one can understand repeated or ritualized sexual abuse of young children unless one has gone thru it. It
S a scale of damage and horror that one can only understand if they have lived thru it

As my readers know I survived some really vile and dangerous abuse from age 2 tll 12-13. I have been raped or otherwise sexually traumatized some 35-45 times in my early youth. I have been Fu Jed by guns. Prostituted out. It just goes on and on and on.

And nobody can get what that really is. Not even close. Because it’s just unimaginable horror.

I’m so far beyond being livid just now. Single-event trauma has nothing to do with what I went they. In all my days on Earth I have talked w/a thousand survivors of single-event abuse. It’s tough and I don’t want to minimize that in any way. But I have met only two people in my day whose early experiences are similar to my story.

There are no relevant groups for ppl like me. I have been kicked out of a few groupsbecause of the atrocity leveling have undergone. Ilook at every shrink or therapist I’ve ever had, certain that they really have no idea of the real devastation of my soul.

It’s such an isolating thing. When you k ow that nobody, nobody can ever understand.

The End.

Rage doesn’t kill by itself

I made a pretty big realization the other day. For valid reasons I found myself in this towering rage that I’ve had sitting in me since the beginning of time. I have never been able to look at it because it seems directly linked to ghastly physical atrocities and the real possibility of my death.

What I have in my head are two main examples of this level of hatred: the hatred my pedophiles showed for me as they were committing these atrocities on my young little body. And the fury I came to feel toward them as I was being raped or kicked or had a gun shoved in me someplace.

This connection is so strong between my ancient history and that kind of rage that I skipped the verb in the assumption of grave danger. That is, somebody was DOING something dangerous and extremely painful while somebody (me or them) was feeling the fury.

My perp can do nothing more to me. He’s dead, died this slow agonizing death that feels like a shred of justice. And if that doesn’t happen again I won’t be feeling the intense anger at anything in the present-day world. It’s only the past.

This all ties into a neat little package when I’m reminded of that chronic suicidal ideation/thinking is always a lovely side dish for this fury. Because there were many times when I thought I could die at any second. I belittle the value of my life because it could have ended at any time. It’s a coincidence that I’m still here, really. He could have just as easily pulled the trigger.

So. I’ve no clue as to how to diffuse this tsunamis anger but at least I know I can feel it and it doesn’t mean that in seconds I may be dead.

The End.

C is back

C is back this week. While I’ve done pretty well for the most part I will be really glad to see her. I have missed her.

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