What Language Does Your Abuse Speak?

My session with V today has left me with a lot to ponder. I'm already an analytical person, but I've got so much going on in my head right now that I've written, erased and re-started this entry about 10 times already because I can't seem to organize my thoughts.

I am one really $*%)! complicated person. I mean I know no one is simple, but I swear with every passing day I find out things about myself that are contradictory or frustrating. Only I can manage to piss myself off without even trying.

Fear is keeping me from progressing in therapy right now. I'm so afraid that any topic I approach or old wound I open up is going to result in the same reactions I had the last time I tried. Crippling panic attacks, constant fear, cutting, no hope. I allowed myself to think about and confront things I had never even come close before, and I just about ended up in the hospital. It took me almost 3 months off of work to recover. But when I think back to those first three months with V, I feel like I accomplished something. Even though those months sucked and I would never want to feel like that again, I feel like it wasn't a waste of time or effort.

These last 4 months have felt so unproductive. I haven't pushed myself to really talk about or feel anything difficult, because this fear in the back of my mind is slamming that door closed every time I approach it. The logical side of me is screaming "WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU THINKING? DO YOU WANT TO FEEL THAT WAY AGAIN?!?!", yet I'm also battling with the undeniable fact that the only way I am going to be able to heal from and let go of these hurts I've been carrying around for so long is to talk about, process through and feel them.

I want to feel like I'm not wasting my time (and V's). I don't right now. I hate it.

I'm so frustrated with myself. I feel like I've lost faith in my entire existence. Like everything I do is futile. No matter how hard I work or how much I want something, I'm doomed. The world is going to spite me and give me the exact opposite.

I feel defeated.

And yet, to be even more contradictory, another part of me feels as though if I can eventually get to a place where I can let these walls down, that I will recover. It seems possible in every aspect of my life... except one.

Even though I sought out and have been going to therapy with the goal of recovering from my abuse, a big part of me doesn't believe it is possible. That no matter how hard I work or what I do, this will always be what defines me. I will never escape it. I will always be afraid. I will always be that 13 year old.

I mean, look at all I've been through over the past 9 months. I got to a point that I wanted to kill myself. I mean actually wanted to end my life. I had NO HOPE. And even going through all of that, I still feel like nothing has changed. I'm still just as afraid as I was then. Just as defined by my abuse as I was then. Why should I think it'll ever get better? I almost killed myself trying to make it better.

Then V said something to me that seemed so painfully simple and obvious, yet brought me almost immediate hope.

"Your abuse speaks a different language."

Don't worry, I'm going to clarify (as you are probably thinking the same thing I was: uhhh, what does that mean?). The little things I've been able to improve upon with V, like learning how to be in the moment, my relationship with my mom, coping with stressors in life without cutting, etc speak one language. Certain methods and approaches work very well in confronting those things, all the while challenging me, pushing me and allowing me to see success.

The "language" V used for those things was obviously not the right "language" for my abuse.

I left tonight feeling more hopeful than I have in a very long time. Maybe, just maybe, we can figure out what the right language is for my abuse. And maybe, just maybe, I can heal.

Learning To Be A New Me

It has been a long time since I have felt drawn to my blog. In fact, it wasn't long ago that I thought I'd never blog again.

Funny how life turns out the exact opposite as you expect it at times. Like all of 2011...

These past three months have been quite weird for me. I was in a vacuum. I was literally incapable of connecting with the "former me", the me I'd become so accustomed to over the past 14 years. The abused, broken, hopeless, forever-destined-to-live-life-in-pain me. But these past few months have offered me a quite different perspective of myself. By default I've learned how to live in the moment, react immediately to emotional situations, and enjoy the happy moments in life.

It's like I was reborn into this new person who had to learn what to do, because most of my former coping skills and mechanisms for life suddenly became unusable... and to tell you the truth, I hated it. I hated not feeling like myself. I hated feeling so out of place and uncomfortable. I hated not knowing how I was going to react to things since my normal "put on a happy face and stuff it, maybe deal with it later" routine was not accessible. When I hate things or disagree with things, I dig in my heels and fight against it with everything I have.

But over the past month or so, my heels let up a bit and I've started to feel more comfortable with this "new" me. This me that is really starting to believe that I deserve all the things I've been working towards, rather than just going through the motions. This me that for the first time since I was 13 years old, has hope for my life.

Seriously, God?!

If life wasn't enough to handle right now, God has thrown me another curve.

My dad is in the ICU from an aneurysm that caused bleeding in his brain. My sister and I are flying out there Saturday. I wish it could be sooner but the entire state is covered in ice (I've been stuck at home for 4 days, sometimes with power, sometimes not), temps in the single digits with wind chills bottoming out at -18 this morning and more headed our way tonight.

I have pretty much been in a constant panic attack all day today. Please pray for my dad. He's having surgery tomorrow morning to try and stop the bleeding.

An Update On Treatment

Sorry I've been MIA for so long. Being in treatment every day doesn't leave me much energy to come home and write.

V decided last week that she wanted me to fully commit to working the program at IOP and that she would not continue to meet with me while I was in treatment. I flipped out. I was so upset I literally cried for 3 hours, but I understood why she was making this decision. I wasn't pushing myself to participate in treatment because I knew I could wait and talk to her.

Now that it has been over a week, knowing that my only chance to process/talk is at IOP, I have really been able to commit to the process and feel like I'm finally making some progress.

It is still really hard to talk about some things and fully trust the group, but I at least feel like it is starting to do some good.

I miss seeing V, but she'll be there for me when I transition out and get back to work. Right now it looks like that won't be until February 22nd at the earliest. That is still a lot of time for me to continue healing!

Finding Joy and Peace

It has been hard to find the joy in anything lately. Life has been one hard confrontation after another. One painful truth after another. The holidays have compounded my normal depression and anxiety having all these new emotions on the surface that have rarely, if ever, been a part of my daily life.

It's very hard to not let these new emotions consume me. They are very powerful and I have no experience in allowing myself to feel them when it's safe to, and turn them off when it's not. It is scary to feel like you are being dragged around with no control. It makes me want to run back to my "comfortable" place, where emotions are pushed under the rug and life is just about going through the motions.

I find myself praying for peace more than anything else these days. Will it ever come?

Lots of Pain, Lots of Tears

It has been a rough week. Lots of pain. Lots of tears.

Excerpt from an e-mail to V last night:

"I didn't realize how much of me could hurt at one time. And as stupid as it sounds being 27 years old, I just wish my mom was someone I could go to. I wish I could drive home, crawl into her bed right now and just cry. Cry and tell her how much I hurt and how I want her to make it all go away... to tell me it'll get better... that she loves me and is sorry I'm hurting.

Yet, I'm here alone. Even when she was physically there when I needed to be told these things before, she was never really there. I was still alone. Nothing's changed.

Maybe this is what a broken heart feels like."

The Reflection Doesn't Match

V works with a lot with children. Her office is covered with pictures, toys and games. At first I was a little worried about working with her as an adult because I wasn't sure how much she'd be able to help me (definitely not worried about that now!). As we get deeper into things, I'm finding out that the little girl inside of me that stopped growing and maturing as a result of the abuse is about to claw her way out.

On Saturday, V took me to a separate room that was wall to wall figurines. Little plastic ones that you get in doll houses, kids meals, cereal boxes, etc. There had to be at least 5,000 things to choose from. And then there was a sand tray. A place for you to arrange the ones you chose, forming a snapshot of something. I had heard of this form of play therapy before, but wasn't expecting to ever participate. When she told me what she wanted me to do I was immediately nervous. The adult side of me was off to the races in making sure I didn't set up any snapshot that I wasn't ready to talk about. I was 5 steps ahead at all times, not really following my intuition or instincts. Knowing that I couldn't possibly plan for all the interpretations she could come up with made me so scared. What if she saw something that I didn't think could be interpreted that way? For the most part her interpretation was exactly what I set it up to produce, but there were a few things that she noticed that were eye opening for me, if not even a little hard to hear. I left feeling like I had opened a door to something, but there was nothing there. At least, nothing visible.

The rest of my weekend was super busy (thankfully) and I didn't actually get to stop and have any time to myself til Sunday night. I was washing my face getting ready to go to bed and I looked up at myself in the mirror. Ugh. My first thought "Why do you look so old?" (I just turned 27, so believe me, I'm not). So I messed with my hair and tried to remove my eye make-up that I thought was contributing to the dark circles under my eyes. No luck. I took my wrinkle cream (yes, you read that right) and made sure to saturate my crows feet and laugh lines, not forgetting to get my chin, lest it sag down one day and make me a turkey neck. I am TERRIFIED of getting older. I am confused why I look so different than what I feel. I feel like when I look in the mirror I should see a younger version of myself looking back at me. My reflection doesn't match. And it wasn't until last night that I even made the connection.

That little girl inside of me, the one who quit growing at age 13, is starting to take over the adult side of me. Little by little she has gained ground. Enough ground to make it very hard not to acknowledge she's there or what she's trying to tell me, but not enough to take over. I still have the upper hand. I'm fighting it tooth and nail, but I can feel that I'm losing the fight. Over the past few months I have felt so much like I am just playing "dress up." That I literally am a 13 year old masquerading as an adult, doing and saying adult things but feeling as small and confused as a teenager. Wanting the things I never had as a kid; the freedom from responsibility, the naivete of any sexual immorality, the ability to live in the moment. Things that realistically I can't have, but WANT. God, this little girl wants this so bad.

Even V picked up on how much I squash that girl (based on some things from the sand tray) and decided that she needs to cater to that side of me today and help me learn how to do this as well. She went to Hobby Lobby and picked up all sorts of crafty stuff for me to create a box. On the outside I am decorating it so that it portrays the "adult me". What I let people see, my facade. On the inside will be the "little girl me". The one that no one ever sees. The one I never acknowledge. The one who has been stuck for the past 13 years.

I shared some journal writing with V tonight about my realization that I'm expecting a different reflection in the mirror and it's connection to that little girl inside of me. She was so respectful of my thoughts and has really given me the comfort to know that I can share just about anything with her without fear of judgement. I'm still a little worried about being left again, but I don't know if that will ever fully disappear.

The "Click"

You know what I'm talking about. You meet someone; a romantic interest, a new boss, a stranger on the bus, or in my case a new counselor and you feel it. The "click." Like you've known each other forever, you have "everything" in common and being around each other is not hard work. In fact, it's EASY.

I walked into the new T's office Saturday morning, nervous of course. My nerves were not from fear of what we were going to talk about, but rather of this not working out. I had built up in my mind how I wanted yesterday to go, and I was nervous I had set myself up for disappointment. She came out to greet me and walked me back to her office. It was a small room, filled with toys and books, as she works with a lot of families. The windows were open, letting the sunshine in. Two huge, overstuffed leather chairs were against one wall, a little table and lamp (and of course your necessary Kleenex box) in between them. I chose the one that faced the window. In case I needed to avert my eyes to regroup my emotions.

I sat down and did a quick "once-over". The best way I could think to describe her would be Italian. She has the dark hair/brown eyes/gorgeous skin that most Italian's do. She's skinny and short, in fact probably a little shorter than me, which is saying something. LOL. She's young. I'd guess no older than 35. But what she's wearing is the best. Black yoga pants, a black concert T-Shirt (maybe Maroon 5?) and a oversized brown sweater cardigan. Her shoes? Pink glitter Converse. I immediately felt at ease. She looked comfortable and settled. Ready to sit back and listen. Her whole self emanating "laid-back". A was always dressed to the 9's, and I always felt as if I needed to do the same just to fit in. Dressing up is a very rigid thing to me, so the casual thing was a breath of fresh air.

Everything felt easy with her. I didn't feel scared to tell her the truth about my family, how I view them, my cutting, how I am not content with my life right now, etc. I even cried. Me?! Cry in front of someone I just met? That's saying a lot folks. Granted a lot of that progress came from hard work with A but the fact that I didn't feel compelled to hold back is indicative of that "click". She had some amazing insights to things that I never thought of as far as why I've chosen self-injury as a coping skill, messages that were sent to me as a kid that pushed me towards that, etc. Things that I would have never thought about in a million years, but all of a sudden, made so much sense.

We ended up talking for an hour and 15 minutes. And didn't even realize it. Her next appointment actually called her phone wondering where she was... we had lost track of time. We were just about to approach the topic of my abuse, but she said she wanted to wait for our next session to do that as she felt like beginning the session with that would allow me to process everything I needed to in a safe environment and not be thrown out feeling like I had just opened a huge can of worms with no escape from all the little buggers. We scheduled two appointments for next week (one Wednesday evening, one Saturday morning) and I walked out of her office, into a world that suddenly seemed so much brighter and so much more hopeful.

God had answered my prayers in a way that I didn't even think was possible. Deep down I knew that God had a plan for me with this, and that I just had to be patient and keep praying, but I still worried that His plan for me was going to leave me wishing for and wanting more. But no, He knew what I needed and He gave it to me. And I am so grateful for the opportunity to continue to heal to become the person I want to be, and the person He created me to be.

Peace

Lately I've noticed something. I am at peace.

Maybe not if you see me on the outside, as I have been running non-stop for the last two weeks... but internally. I feel as though the wounds that have been painfully opened the past (almost) two years are finally healing over. They no longer haunt me like they did before. They no longer completely control my life. There are still things that I need to work on, but doing that doesn't scare me anymore. I don't feel as though if I take on one more change that I'm going to crumble under the weight of it all.

This peace that has settled over me over the past month has resulted in me feeling more comfortable forging new friendships and being myself. My actual self. Not a facade of who I want people to see. It's resulted in me working harder to be a good friend to those that I have gotten to know at church, but have been keeping at an arms length. It's resulted in me having a healthier expectation of my family and not letting the fact that I can't change them upset me.

This peace has brought me a lot of internal dialogue as well. My inner voice has been dusted off, polished and is much louder. I still struggle with making sure that voice stays positive and doesn't return to shaming me, but that is one of the things I am working on with A right now. With this internal dialogue, I don't feel as compelled to come here and write.

Before I used this as a platform to put words to emotions that I couldn't get a grasp on and work through myself. It was my outlet. I depended on this like I depended on seeing A every week. I needed it to get through. It was crucial to me being where I am now. But I feel as though my relationship with my blog has moved to a different level. I no longer need to post to understand my own feelings.

In my world, that is a huge step of growth. I will still be posting (sorry if that scared anyone!), but I would expect that it will not be nearly as often as what some of you might be used to. My crazy schedule is part of that reason, but my hope and desire for increased growth and peace for me can only be achieved if I push myself to communicate with myself and others without a keyboard at my fingertips.

Tick Tock, Kill the Clock!

This very well might be the war cry of my household. TICK TOCK, KILL THE CLOCK!

Time for me is almost always anxiety producing, as it is one of the only things, no matter how hard I try, that I cannot control. So whenever there is something in my life that has a specific element of time attached to it, my mind commits it to memory and it is then used to constantly harass myself and take on unwanted burdens.

The biggest example of this in my life is my absolute hatred of age/birthdays. I can't stand them. To me it is just another reminder of being a year older and having gotten nothing accomplished. Sure I have a great job, home, car, etc. but the only thing anyone ever seems to care about is if I'm dating anyone. Truth be told, I care about that too, but just not as much as everyone else seems to. So adding another year to my age only reminds me of the fact that I haven't yet accomplished the burning question in everyone's mind. This hinting and prodding from my family my entire life has ingrained this idea that if things aren't done by a certain time then I'm just not good enough.

So in almost every aspect of my life, I tend to put these crazy deadlines on myself because I want to feel accomplished by completing them. Yet most of the time feel like a failure because I can't. I made a list of things about 6 months ago that I wanted to be able to say/do/feel by my next birthday (coming up in about 3 months, ugh) and I don't even feel close to getting half of them done. I'll be lucky to accomplish one. Makes me dread my birthday even more.

So with only about a week left of my break, I've been telling myself that I have to have everything figured out and "be better" by then. Whatever that means. I'm starting at a new location, with all new people and new responsibilities this year, which puts me in the dark about many things. Before I was able to go into work knowing who I could trust and rely on, who I worked well with, who to stay away from, what my schedule was, etc. Now I know nothing. And having that out of control feeling at work is not something I am used to. Work is my safe place. Knowing now that work is not going to be as safe as it has in the past, I'm using time to try and push my personal life into control by giving myself this deadline to "get better." Hah. It's been almost 2 years with A and while I have made such improvements, I'm not fully healed yet. What makes me think that I can expect that of myself by the end of next Sunday?

I know I can't meet these crazy deadlines I put upon myself, but it doesn't stop me from making them. And with everyone one I fail to meet, it makes me hate time even more.

Waiting for Relief

Horrible, no good, very bad week.

Complications with recovery. One trip to my general doctor and will be back to the surgeon on Thursday. Hoping for something positive.

Little sleep because of so much stress. Combined 8 hrs in the last 3 nights. I am exhausted.

Heading to see A in about an hour. Should be a fabulous train wreck.

Punishment vs. Relief

After Saturday, you could say I was in a somewhat dark place. Tuesday I had a session, and we talked about how bad Saturday was and the things that led up to me getting there. I decided to reveal that I had cut and pounded myself until I bruised in order to punish my body. That was the sole purpose of doing those things: to inflict pain on myself as a punishment. I had never told her that I had done these things before, because honestly I didn't do them very often (maybe every 3 or 4 months) and it was never used as a form of punishment, but as a way to feel physically what I couldn't emotionally. I guess you could say that Saturday scared me enough to say something, even though I knew revealing it would cause me some pain as well.

We talked about all of that, and she discussed how she felt that cutting was not only unsafe physically, but detrimental to my healing. The way it was worded caused me take on a tremendous amount of guilt, and I felt awful for saying something. I ended up going home Tuesday night and cutting again, but not as a punishment... just as a way to physically feel my emotional pain. So I knew when I went in today, I had to say something to her about walking away feeling guilty because of something that was said. We talked about that and she reiterated that she was not blaming me in any way, she just wanted to let me know that in her opinion, my decision to cut was only going to hurt me, not help me. I told her I cut again, and we compared Saturday to Tuesday and the emotions that were going on inside me at those exact moments. It led up to me needing to make a decision on whether or not I wanted to try out healthier ways of dealing with those emotions, even though they may not be a quick fix, or continuing to use the quick fix even though it might cause future emotional pain. She asked me if I could make a committment to myself not to cut until I see her again on Tuesday. I said yes, but I hate telling myself "No! You can't do that!" in times of need. It just makes me want it more. We talked a little bit more on the subject and she asked me again if I thought I could make that committment to myself and I started crying. Giving up my back-up plan is extremely vulnerable and I just don't think I'm ready to do that yet.

Part of what started this whole tailspin of stuff was me sitting down to journal Saturday night because I was feeling anxious. The evenings are a very vulnerable time for me anyway, so taking on such heavy things at night is sometimes detrimental to myself. So on Tuesday I was asked to stop journaling and processing difficult things at night, which is why I haven't checked blogs or updated yet... because I'm always on at night! Hopefully these next few days will give me the proof that I can find other ways to cope, and that saying I'm not going to cut doesn't make me feel cornered and out of options. I hope Tuesday gets here quickly.

Power and Guilt

I hate feeling powerless. It is the main thing that slows me down in my healing. Sexual abuse is the most helpless and powerless thing anyone can go through, and my way of coping was to put myself into situations where I had as much power as possible and to avoid situations where I would be powerless.

Today's session started off discussing last weeks, how could it not? I confessed to having an awful day Thursday and completely numbing out the rest of the week. I avoided anything that would cause me to feel. We discussed what exactly triggered my attack, as well as the physical reactions and the emotional reactions that went with it. I am finding that I am very "dumb" when it comes to describing how I feel. Trying to explain what I felt during all of that was hard, but I finally settled on a word: Guilt.

That brought us to a discussion on the guilt I feel as it pertains to the abuse. Not only to the abuse I suffered, but that of my sister as well. I feel as if both are my fault, even though logically I know that neither of them are. That brings us to "True Guilt" and "False Guilt". True guilt is the emotion in conjunction with a guilty action. False guilt is the emotion of guilt in the absence of the guilty action. My guilt right now is all false, although regardless of its label, it feels just the same. True guilt has a purpose in life, to teach us how to change our ways and to look to God to forgive our sins. False guilt is a black hole. It consumes time, energy and faith.

When presented the question why I find it so easy to blame myself for both my and my sister's abuse, I was perplexed for a short time. Then it occured to me, when I blame myself, I give myself a (false) sense of power. If it was my fault, then there is something for me to fix. If I admit it was someone else's fault, there isn't anything I can do. I am powerless.

Continuing to provide a safe environment to heal, I was given the power to choose my homework assignment from two options. I can choose to veer away from the path I am currently on (the guilt of my sister's abuse) for fear of triggering more panic attacks, and determine what I would like to tackle instead of this, or I can stay the course and start by acknowledging these feelings in a letter to my sister. I can tell you even though I am going to feel so much pain initially, I am going to stay the course. I will not let myself fall into the habit of avoiding what is hard. It's all hard, and will all have to be acknowledged sooner or later.

In my effort to speak the truth, I am bringing this song to the forefront of my mind. This song is my connection to God. Every time I hear it, I feel as if He is saying this to only me, and no one else.

Changing Your Thinking

Can you th.ink like a ch.ild? Chances are the answer is no. You are an adult and you view situations through adult eyes, using your experiences as reasons to help make your decisions in life. Sounds like a good thing, right? For most people, I'd venture to say it is. For me, right now at this moment in my life, it is not.

My inability to think like a child is causing me great pain. It is keeping me from healing the way I need.

Today in session, we discussed a few dramatic happenings in my life (which I will go into tomorrow or Thursday after it has all died down) and the things it brought up that are important to my work. There were actually quite a few that have given me some things to ponder. The majority of our time was spent discussing what I decided to do in order to sleep better at night. Last week I decided that I was ready to write down, word for word, the experience of my abuse so that I was released from the deep need to go over it every night before I fall asleep. This has been a contributing factor to having nightmares over the years.

I sat down at my computer to type it out, starting around 9PM and ending after 1AM. Sometimes the words were just too much. Taking a memory you have and attaching words to it is extremely hard. Words have meaning. Words have emotion. I had to stop a couple of times and focus on my breathing before I slipped too far into a panic attack. I was left with a 6 page account of everything I could remember that I would go over in my mind. Things I was afraid I might forget. I went a little bit further and wrote about some things that happened after the abuse itself, like the legal stuff, detectives, court, etc that I felt just needed to be told as well. I can honestly say that knowing I had everything written down and that I hadn't skimped on any detail, helped me give myself permission to not think of it at night. I wasn't perfect all week, but I did very good. I know it will get better with time.

Today I printed it off and took it with me, wanting her to keep it there, for fear of someone possibly finding it here. She asked me what I wanted to do with it at that moment. I knew that this question was going to be asked, so I had already given it some thought. I had a lot of options.

"Any decision you make is fine. I can tell you what I think is best, but what you have written represents probably the most powerless moment in your life, and choosing what to do with that should not be a powerless moment as well."

Reading what I had written out loud was something I already knew I was not going to do. I told her that I just wasn't ready for that, but I was not opposed to her reading it.

"Read it out loud or to myself? I can do either, ask for clarification when I need it, or we can go paragraph by paragraph. Your choice."

Knowing it would be hard, I told her to read it aloud, and she made the choice to go paragraph by paragraph to get more information if needed. We only made it through 3 paragraphs, but that was enough. Without realizing it, I tuned her out as she was reading, trying not to hear what she was saying. She stopped and looked up at me. I didn't even realize I was crying. That question I love was said next, "What are you feeling right now?". There aren't words for what I feel. PAIN. Not having the words to explain that, I told her I was frustrated with the fact that even going through every awful thing he did to me, I still place the blame on myself and cannot find it in me to feel anger towards him.

"Placing blame on yourself means that you had the control in that situation and the power to make the decisions. Were you the one in control?"

"No. I wasn't the one making decisions, but I had the ability to do something. Thinking that I had no control scares me. It's much harder to think that I had no control as opposed to having some control and not doing anything."

"You had no control. You were a child. You were doing everything you were taught to do. To not disrespect your authority figures. To not hurt others feelings. You are thinking of your control in the mind of Lily, the adult. Your life experiences and status as an authority figure to your students has given you the sense of control and the ability to apply that control to your memories. You have to think of it as Lily, the child. She did what she was expected to do and she did everything she could have done."

Through the tears and the pain, I learned something that seems so painfully obvious but something that I think is going to help me on my journey to heal. I can't think of this as an adult. I have to realize that my inner child needs to take control of this one. I just hope she feels strong enough to come out.

A Tale of Two People...

Two different people who lived in the same body... until the strong and determined Lily took over the ashamed and hopeless Lily.

One More Time

I am sitting in my office now, listening to music and reflecting on the past 3 hrs.

I went to a different C.R. meeting today. This one is in my town, something I hadn't planned on doing since I have a very visible job where I live and was afraid of possibly seeing someone I knew.

During large group, there was worship then a testimony of a woman from a C.R. group in the town next to mine. Wow. So many things in her life connected with how I feel about my life, and even personal experiences we shared, however far apart. I can't imagine how hard it was for her to sit up there and tell her story. I have to admit I got choked up at a few times... you can just feel the pain she went through. It's very sobering, and I definitely started telling myself that I was a fool for being so lost and traumatized by something that wasn't nearly as bad as her life was.

After her testimony, the "welcoming crew" took me, another woman and a man to a room where we watched a personalized C.R. video they made, as opposed to the general one that I saw on Monday. I think they did a much better job of showing what C.R. had done for them and what it continues to do. After that, the guys left and the female leader stayed with me and the other woman to answer questions and talk. I asked a few questions that had been on my mind, then asked to speak to her alone. I still did not feel ready to disclose my personal struggle and reason for being there, but was able to ask more "intimate" questions when we were alone. She sat and talked to me for a long time, and I finally got the courage to ask her about how my current struggles with God would affect my participation in C.R.. She was very gracious and referred back to our speaker... every person is at a different place in their life with their relationship with God, and no matter where they are, they are always welcome.

And I really feel that. So many people introduced themselves to me, asked if I wanted to sit with them, and thanked me for coming. Not only that, they really seem like they are all friends. This group seems different. I was given the strength to go today, I hope He gives me the strength to go again.

As I end this post now, my music has just begun on "Jes.us Take the Wh.eel". I think He heard me.

Decisions

Thank you for the comments you left me about C.R.. I have made the decision to go again on Thursday to a different church in the area who (according to their website) has a small group for women dealing with issues of abuse.

Counseling today mainly went over my confrontation with my mom and the feelings/emotions that resulted from that. Aside from feeling oddly empowered, right now I don't have much to go on. I had e-mailed A sometime last week asking if she had any open appointments on Thursdays so that I could make the most of my time off this summer by coming 2x a week. The next two weeks I will come in if anyone cancels and have the last few weeks in July double-booked. She asked me given the fact that I am focusing on working hard this summer, what my goal is by the time I have to go back to work.

I told her I want to stop having nightmares by then. I think the fact that I am having them is because I go to bed EVERY night thinking about it, trying desperately to go over everything step by step because I have a piece of that day missing. I can remember everything up until a certain point, then there is a gap. What I remember next does not fit with where it left off. I have lately even wondered if there is a way for me to find the detective that was in charge of my case so I can get a copy of my statement. I think I need to change my goal instead of not having nightmares, to not obsess over trying to fill in that missing piece. I really think the bad dreams will subside if I can let that go.

On a happier note, I took my 6 year old ni.ece out with some friends from work and their kids to a local pizza and arcade game establishment. She had an absolute blast (as she is one of four and rarely gets to do stuff by herself) as did I. I love being able to spoil her :) Next week I'm taking the oldest 3 to the waterpark in my city. Family bonding time!

One Small Step

Today was my last day of work. Big party to celebrate!

Now normally large social gatherings that involve alcohol make me very nervous. I don't drink, so being around a large group that is, eventually gets very loud and raucous. So normally if I go to these events, I often come up with an excuse to leave long before I ever arrive. I need an out if I feel things are getting out of control (my version of it at least, by no means all that bad to most people). I left work not long after the last bell, feeling anxious because of the prospect of having an empty 11 weeks ahead of me and always feeling obligated to fill it with things I don't want to do because I really don't have an excuse not to. Then feeling as if I was entering into a situation where I normally feel completely out of control almost sent me into a panic attack. I could feel it coming on, but the tools I have now are so much more adept at staving off those attacks. I was able to talk myself down and have a little pep talk with myself.

I arrived with about 10 staff members already there, which was comforting to me not having to wait around for conversation. We quickly had to move into the back room at the pub, as we exceeded 20+. I started off a little withdrawn, chiming into conversations as I had something to add but mostly felt a little out of place because I wasn't drinking or eating. I decided to get up to chat with my old team members who I never see because I moved departments. Ahh, back in my comfort zone. Once I got up and moving around I actually was able to enjoy myself. 2 hours passed without me even checking my watch! A lot of people had already left, but we got everyone else together for a picture (always fun when you have that many people) and I love that I have a "last memory" of my friends that are leaving. I left not long after, not feeling guilty that I left before other people, but that I stayed and enjoyed the time there. I am really learning that it is not worth worrying about what other's think about me, but listening to myself and being OK with the decisions I make.

One small step at a time.

OK, so I lied...

I told you not to expect another post so soon... but alas, here I am.

Counseling today was very eye-opening. I had written about the things I think that cause me to blame myself for the abuse and the things I think that cause me to blame him. The lists were very lobsided, with most of the blame falling on me and when asked to present a counter argument to most of them, I had trouble voicing why it wasn't my fault. Logically I know these things, but to change what you know into what you feel is very hard. We discussed why I started blaming myself as opposed to blaming him, and it all boiled down to the fact that in order to survive my life as a 13 year old, blaming myself was much safer than blaming him. What I did and the choices I made were out of self-preservation and as that was the healthiest thing I could have done at the time, it has infiltrated in so many aspects of my life that are now churning out unhealthy responses. So in order to combat that, I've got to examine my philosophies on myself, my family, my friends, God, the world... everything. I've got to re-learn what is really the truth and what I convinced myself was true in order to survive. Hard work.

Emotional Work

So as part of my homework (and work in what I am lovingly calling "Phase 2"), I am to make a list of things that are hard for me to read or are things that I feel/think about myself in the book she (my therapist, A) recommended for me, called On Th.e Thres.hold of Ho.pe. I sat down with it for a long time last night, and am planning to do the same in a few minutes because I won't have the opportunity again until Monday night, and I hate putting things off until the last minute.

Reading this book has been hard. It makes me feel that weight in my body that I can't stand. It's going to be hard work going through all of this. This is my list so far, and I still have over 100 pages to go.

p. 40, para. 2: I didn't want to go back once the counselor knew. I didn't want to see that look in her eyes. I imagined she was repulsed by the sight of what was in front of her.

p. 56, para. 3: My efforts to hide the truth from others succeeded. People saw me as a quiet girl, a nice girl. A girl who blended in with the scenery.

p. 72, para. 1: Don't speak, don't feel. They have been taught to blame themselves. Self-hatred comes easy. These children have learned how to numb their feelings and continue on as if nothing horrible has happened.

p. 86, para. 3: To live in a body that reminds you of memories that you would just as soon forget is to feel horribly trapped.

p. 93, para. 1: Your energy is consumed by watching your weight and controlling your appearance. You believe that if your only value is in your physical body, then it better be good. If it is not, then you are worthless.

p. 102, para. 3: I should have stopped it. I should have run away.

p. 114, para. 3: You can dissociate from the feelings in your body, from your emotions or from the reality that is happening.

p. 117, para. 1: Some believe that facing the truth about your life would hurt and destroy you rather than set you free. Some believe that love is possible only if you do everything right. Some believe that if people learned about who you really are, they would walk away in disgust.

p. 124, para. 1: The result was to ignore the warning signs because she could do nothing about them anyway.

p. 127, para 2: Many survivors believe they have to answer any question anyone asks them. The concept of saying "I would rather not answer that" does not feel like an option.