thursday there was a post up at mormon mommy blogs called faith versus fear. it was a fantastic post and i highly recommend it. there was a quote from jeffrey r. holland that really stuck out to me, though, and i'd like to share it:
"First, we must never let fear and the father of fear (Satan himself) divert us from our faith and faithful living. Every person in every era has had to walk by faith into what has always been some uncertainty. This is the plan. Just be faithful. God is in charge. He knows your name and He knows your need.
Faith in the Lord Jesus Christ—that is the first principle of the gospel. We must go forward. God expects you to have enough faith, determination, and trust in Him to keep moving, keep living, keep rejoicing. He expects you not simply to face the future; He expects you to embrace and shape the future—to love it, rejoice in it, and delight in your opportunities."
someday i want to have faith like this again.
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fear. Show all posts
Tuesday, May 25, 2010
Tuesday, April 27, 2010
prison
the nightmares keep coming back.
right in the middle of a pleasant dream, there he is. i see his face. sometimes he doesn't speak. sometimes he doesn't look at me. but he is there....and suddenly i am filled with fear, with anger, with...darkness. there is no word to describe the feeling. i wake up panicky, feeling as if i haven't slept at all, and my neck and shoulders so tense they are throbbing. i awake to darkness surrounding me awake as i have within me in unconsciousness.
i roll over to see hubby sleeping, breathing evenly and deeply. i touch his arm, curl up against his shoulder and try to sleep again. within me there is a fight--a fight for sleep i desperately need as a mother of two very small and energetic children, and a fight for consciousness, to escape the man who haunts my dreams.
how do i escape? there is no where to run. i cannot hide from what is inside my head. in my waking hours it is much easier to avoid the darkness and fear, although not always successful. at night, in my dreams....there is no way. there is no escape. my mind is a prison that i am bound to, and i don't know where to go looking for the key.
i am grateful to have a family who loves and supports me, who bolsters me through the daylight. a husband who keeps me connected to reality. children who need me. without them, i might just be lost in the depths of insanity, surrendering to the darkness inside, losing myself piece by piece into the mists of fear and helplessness.
helplessness. yes, that's the word i couldn't place before.
a small girl, six years of age, sitting in a corner. curled up in a tight little ball...face pressed into knees, arms wrapped around her body, shaking and shivering, alone, confused and hurt...tears running down her face. no where to run, no where to hide, no one to talk to.
when i close my eyes, that is what i see.
i see me.
right in the middle of a pleasant dream, there he is. i see his face. sometimes he doesn't speak. sometimes he doesn't look at me. but he is there....and suddenly i am filled with fear, with anger, with...darkness. there is no word to describe the feeling. i wake up panicky, feeling as if i haven't slept at all, and my neck and shoulders so tense they are throbbing. i awake to darkness surrounding me awake as i have within me in unconsciousness.
i roll over to see hubby sleeping, breathing evenly and deeply. i touch his arm, curl up against his shoulder and try to sleep again. within me there is a fight--a fight for sleep i desperately need as a mother of two very small and energetic children, and a fight for consciousness, to escape the man who haunts my dreams.
how do i escape? there is no where to run. i cannot hide from what is inside my head. in my waking hours it is much easier to avoid the darkness and fear, although not always successful. at night, in my dreams....there is no way. there is no escape. my mind is a prison that i am bound to, and i don't know where to go looking for the key.
i am grateful to have a family who loves and supports me, who bolsters me through the daylight. a husband who keeps me connected to reality. children who need me. without them, i might just be lost in the depths of insanity, surrendering to the darkness inside, losing myself piece by piece into the mists of fear and helplessness.
helplessness. yes, that's the word i couldn't place before.
a small girl, six years of age, sitting in a corner. curled up in a tight little ball...face pressed into knees, arms wrapped around her body, shaking and shivering, alone, confused and hurt...tears running down her face. no where to run, no where to hide, no one to talk to.
when i close my eyes, that is what i see.
i see me.
Tuesday, November 3, 2009
phone call
the past couple of days have been hard. i've been really emotional and kind of depressed. i think it's the fact that i haven't been sleeping well at all, and when i do sleep it's interrupted every 3-4 hours by a nursing baby. the lack of sleep and resulting exhaustion leads to emotional exhaustion.
today has been a bit better. i'm lucky to have a supportive hubby who tells me that he loves me and does what he can to help me feel better.
this morning i was chasing my toddler around and trying to clean up a bit, and the phone rang. weird phone call....it was my old therapist. i only saw her a few times until our insurance changed and she was no longer covered. it was pushing it just paying the ridiculous copay for mental health so having to pay full price to see her was out of the question. i never found another therapist. hubby and i have discussed several times my returning to therapy but i just haven't done anything about it. she called me this morning to find out how i was doing. she asked me if i had gone back to therapy, and said she had been thinking about me and wondering how i was dealing with things. she said that she felt a connection to me and really believed that she could help me.
i told her no, i hadn't been in therapy but i needed to go back, i just hadn't found another therapist. she said that even though my insurance doesn't cover her she could probably see me for $50 an hour (as opposed to the $200 or so she usually charges). i told her i'd have to talk to hubby, because that's still really steep for us right now. copays alone are hard. hubby and i discussed it, we can probably swing one visit a month. i have to admit that i'm excited and anxious and scared to go back to therapy. i know i need it, without a doubt i really need it, but i also know that it's going to open up a lot of crap i just want to bury. but the wounds have to be reopened to properly heal. the prospect of that....is terrifying. but i'm just at the point in my life where i need it to be over. i need it to be in the past, to be able to function properly, and for more than a few months at a time until i lose control. it's more than just me, and even my hubby. it's more than just my sanity and our relationship on the line now. i have two beautiful children who deserve to have a mother who isn't a basket case.
i don't know when i'll be going back to therapy. i hope this actually works out. i need to fix this hugely dysfunctional part of myself.
today has been a bit better. i'm lucky to have a supportive hubby who tells me that he loves me and does what he can to help me feel better.
this morning i was chasing my toddler around and trying to clean up a bit, and the phone rang. weird phone call....it was my old therapist. i only saw her a few times until our insurance changed and she was no longer covered. it was pushing it just paying the ridiculous copay for mental health so having to pay full price to see her was out of the question. i never found another therapist. hubby and i have discussed several times my returning to therapy but i just haven't done anything about it. she called me this morning to find out how i was doing. she asked me if i had gone back to therapy, and said she had been thinking about me and wondering how i was dealing with things. she said that she felt a connection to me and really believed that she could help me.
i told her no, i hadn't been in therapy but i needed to go back, i just hadn't found another therapist. she said that even though my insurance doesn't cover her she could probably see me for $50 an hour (as opposed to the $200 or so she usually charges). i told her i'd have to talk to hubby, because that's still really steep for us right now. copays alone are hard. hubby and i discussed it, we can probably swing one visit a month. i have to admit that i'm excited and anxious and scared to go back to therapy. i know i need it, without a doubt i really need it, but i also know that it's going to open up a lot of crap i just want to bury. but the wounds have to be reopened to properly heal. the prospect of that....is terrifying. but i'm just at the point in my life where i need it to be over. i need it to be in the past, to be able to function properly, and for more than a few months at a time until i lose control. it's more than just me, and even my hubby. it's more than just my sanity and our relationship on the line now. i have two beautiful children who deserve to have a mother who isn't a basket case.
i don't know when i'll be going back to therapy. i hope this actually works out. i need to fix this hugely dysfunctional part of myself.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
be still, my soul
haven't posted in awhile. i've been really sick. going to the dr again tomorrow. hubby had to give me an IV to get some fluids in my system....one day i was so weak i couldn't even walk. and my grandma is doing much worse. they didn't think she would make it through the night. we are heading over to the hospital as soon as hubby gets off work. i am scared and worried.
went to a baby blessing this morning. i actually blow dried my hair, did my makeup, and shaved my legs. crazy, i know. i feel better about myself when i get dressed up but hate doing it. on the way there i listened to a CD i got at a youth conference 8 years ago. for the life of me i can't remember the artist's name but the CD is full of beautiful hymn arrangements that are all about the Savior.
i want to share one of my favorite hymns with you...i'm trying to sing it in my head and take the words to heart right now.
be still, my soul: the Lord is on they side;
with patience bear thy cross of grief or pain
leave to thy God to order and provide:
in ev'ry change he faithful will remain.
be still, my soul, thy best, thy heav'nly friend
thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
to guide the future as He has the past.
thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
all now mysterious shall be bright at last.
be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
when we shall be forever with the Lord,
when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
went to a baby blessing this morning. i actually blow dried my hair, did my makeup, and shaved my legs. crazy, i know. i feel better about myself when i get dressed up but hate doing it. on the way there i listened to a CD i got at a youth conference 8 years ago. for the life of me i can't remember the artist's name but the CD is full of beautiful hymn arrangements that are all about the Savior.
i want to share one of my favorite hymns with you...i'm trying to sing it in my head and take the words to heart right now.
be still, my soul: the Lord is on they side;
with patience bear thy cross of grief or pain
leave to thy God to order and provide:
in ev'ry change he faithful will remain.
be still, my soul, thy best, thy heav'nly friend
thru thorny ways leads to a joyful end.
be still, my soul: thy God doth undertake
to guide the future as He has the past.
thy hope, thy confidence, let nothing shake;
all now mysterious shall be bright at last.
be still, my soul: the waves and winds still know
His voice who ruled them while He dwelt below.
be still, my soul: the hour is hastening on
when we shall be forever with the Lord,
when disappointment, grief, and fear are gone,
sorrow forgot, love's purest joys restored.
be still, my soul: when change and tears are past,
all safe and blessed we shall meet at last.
Saturday, February 21, 2009
victims who suffer silently
i received this email from susan (name has been changed to protect her identity) a few days ago. i felt it was important to share her story with you.
the reason i wanted to share this story with you is this: how many of us have sisters, friends, cousins, next-door neighbors, that have been abused and can't talk about it? haven't talked about it? statistics say that every one in four women and every one in ten men will be sexually assaulted before the age of 18. however, experts believe that this number is much higher because of all the people who don't come forward.
being a victim of abuse, i feel it is easier for me to determine if someone i know has been abused or not. i'm not always right, of course, as there are many forms of psychological trauma. like susan, many of these people are afraid to talk about it. in susan's case she is afraid of her husband's retaliation. for me, i just didn't want to talk about it. i didn't want to come forward because i wasn't ready to. i was afraid of how my parents would react. i was scared it would tear our family apart. i thought i was capable of dealing with it on my own. and i was so wrong.
it is important to remember to be sensitive to others. abuse is so prevalent in our society. we never know who is silently suffering, who needs our help. sometimes unknowingly we can be the saving grace for a friend or a neighbor. we can provide the love, support, and validation that they need, without ever meaning to. it is imperative that we do not pass judgment on someone for not telling. or for telling. we have no idea what they have been through, what they have been told, what is going on in their head.
it is also important to protect our children. i don't know when or if my parents would have found out the abuse i endured if my sister had not come forward. my parents trusted my uncle. they thought they knew him--he was my dad's little brother, my mom had known him since he was six years old. most abusers are relatives or close friends. the parents of our children's friends. i don't want to scare you. there is no possible way to completely prevent abuse. but we can be careful. listen to your gut feelings. teach your children what to do in those kinds of situations, starting at a young age. if you notice anything different about your child's behavior, talk to them about it. be observant. if your child is abused, don't blame yourself. to be honest, it will only make things harder for them. be supportive, get them help and treatment. retaliation against an abuser will only make things WORSE. for you and your child. do not take things into your own hands. go to the police. contact the district attorney's office. prosecute through the court system.
i know there is a lot more that i could say. but i feel i have hit the important points, and i don't want to ramble on. if you are a victim suffering silently, remember that you are not alone. you never know who else suffers your burden, someone you know and love. when you are ready to talk about it, you will be surprised at how loving and supportive people can be. don't be afraid to tell someone, and to get the help you need.
I just wanted to tell you I think you are very courageous. I was abused as a child but only a select few people know this. It was by my step-father. Actually you are only the second person I have ever told in my life. I haven't even told my husband. It has been hard keeping this from him but I know that if I told him he would go after my step-father. I plan on telling him when my step-father passes away. My mother doesn't even know. I have three sisters and they too were abused. I knew me and my older sister were because he didn't care that we were both in the same room. We thought we were protecting our two younger sisters and we thought we watched them pretty good and that since he was messing with us he wouldn't them. We were wrong. Besides talking about it with each other I had to tell my daughter at an early age. I was a single parent at that time and had to live with them. By this time he had quit but I couldn't take the chance with my daughter. He never touched her! I would have killed him if he had. Your post about forgiveness has got me thinking. I don't know if I have forgiven him. He has never acknowledged what he did but I feel like he is sorry for it. I can't be sure. But when we talk about it with our children they can't believe that that man is their Papa. But we still have strong emotional feelings about it. We still see him at least once a week. Sometimes I'm uncomfortable sometimes it's like nothing happened. I don't know why I felt led to write and tell you but I just felt like I had to.
the reason i wanted to share this story with you is this: how many of us have sisters, friends, cousins, next-door neighbors, that have been abused and can't talk about it? haven't talked about it? statistics say that every one in four women and every one in ten men will be sexually assaulted before the age of 18. however, experts believe that this number is much higher because of all the people who don't come forward.
being a victim of abuse, i feel it is easier for me to determine if someone i know has been abused or not. i'm not always right, of course, as there are many forms of psychological trauma. like susan, many of these people are afraid to talk about it. in susan's case she is afraid of her husband's retaliation. for me, i just didn't want to talk about it. i didn't want to come forward because i wasn't ready to. i was afraid of how my parents would react. i was scared it would tear our family apart. i thought i was capable of dealing with it on my own. and i was so wrong.
it is important to remember to be sensitive to others. abuse is so prevalent in our society. we never know who is silently suffering, who needs our help. sometimes unknowingly we can be the saving grace for a friend or a neighbor. we can provide the love, support, and validation that they need, without ever meaning to. it is imperative that we do not pass judgment on someone for not telling. or for telling. we have no idea what they have been through, what they have been told, what is going on in their head.
it is also important to protect our children. i don't know when or if my parents would have found out the abuse i endured if my sister had not come forward. my parents trusted my uncle. they thought they knew him--he was my dad's little brother, my mom had known him since he was six years old. most abusers are relatives or close friends. the parents of our children's friends. i don't want to scare you. there is no possible way to completely prevent abuse. but we can be careful. listen to your gut feelings. teach your children what to do in those kinds of situations, starting at a young age. if you notice anything different about your child's behavior, talk to them about it. be observant. if your child is abused, don't blame yourself. to be honest, it will only make things harder for them. be supportive, get them help and treatment. retaliation against an abuser will only make things WORSE. for you and your child. do not take things into your own hands. go to the police. contact the district attorney's office. prosecute through the court system.
i know there is a lot more that i could say. but i feel i have hit the important points, and i don't want to ramble on. if you are a victim suffering silently, remember that you are not alone. you never know who else suffers your burden, someone you know and love. when you are ready to talk about it, you will be surprised at how loving and supportive people can be. don't be afraid to tell someone, and to get the help you need.
Friday, February 6, 2009
seeing past the grime
today i am feeling better physically. yesterday was awful.
with little buddy, i was really sick. i had terrible migraines and i would pass out for no apparent reason. dizziness, weakness, on top of the nausea/vomiting/exhaustion/other fun pregger stuff. i spent the majority of my pregnancy in bed wishing i could die, crying, and attempting to get rid of the pain by sleeping. i am really hoping that i don't have those problems, at least not as severe, with this pregnancy. i have already had issues with headaches, and yesterday was miserable. i had a terrible migraine complete with blurred vision and light/sound sensitivity. thankfully hubby is understanding and supportive.
i am still very stressed out about the timing of this baby. but the good news is that i am feeling better. i have been able to talk to hubby about my fear and my stress. i also got to talk to my mom about it today. although i am still scared out of my mind about my ability to handle my impending illness and take care of little buddy the way he needs and deserves, plus keep working to maintain my financial income, i am feeling better about it. i'm still not....exactly excited....but i am happier. in fact i am looking forward to having two beautiful babies. being a mother is the most fantastic thing in the world, the best thing i have ever experienced, and i imagine it only gets better as it gets harder.
both hubby and my mom said exactly the same thing to me today. things they have both said as long as they have known me. they told me that i am stronger than i think i am. that any failures come from me setting myself up, discouraging myself and beating myself up. not allowing myself to succeed. they both told me that i am a good person, a strong person, a wonderful mother. i have never really believed either of them. i try--but i don't think hard enough.
my mom brought over this picture she has had of me as long as i can remember--hanging in her bedroom. it is large, about 10x13, of me when i was about two years old. i am on the sidewalk by our house, bent at the knee and holding a couple dandelions. on the sidewalk next to me are a few more that i am picking up. i am smiling and happy. my mom cried when she gave me the picture. it is her favorite, one my grandmother had printed and gave to her. she said that she had been thinking about this picture a lot lately, especially with all of the struggles i have faced with the aftermath of my abuse. she felt inspired to bring it to me today. she told me to look at the picture, and use it to help me to find myself. to remember who i really am. that i am a strong, happy, daughter of God. that experiences do not determine who i am or whether i am a bad person or good. she said that she knows who i really am inside, that she knows i can find it--i just have a lot of things to clear out of the way before i can see it. she said she has watched me grow up, watched me struggle and fall, watched me in so much pain after what was taken from me. but in spite of all of that, she said she could always see what was inside of me, even when i couldn't. even though i still can't.
hubby says the same thing. although he hasn't known me my whole life, he didn't know me before i was abused, he can still see what i can't: the person i really am. he tells me how strong, and intelligent, and beautiful i am inside, and what a good person i am. i know he gets frustrated that i don't see it. i know it hurts him that i don't listen to him or believe him.
but maybe, just maybe, he is right. maybe my mom is right. maybe i am worth something. maybe i am a good person...maybe all of this junk, all of this pain, and hurt, and anger, and self-loathing is just hiding the true me. like a penny, left in the dirt, covered in grime. clean it off and it's beautiful, shining, pretty.
at this point i'm still too scared and hurt to see past the grime. but maybe there's a faint glimmer of hope....and although it's a cautious hope, it's still hope....like from pandora's box. thousands of ugly, terrible, horrible things, all covering the most important thing in the world: HOPE.
with little buddy, i was really sick. i had terrible migraines and i would pass out for no apparent reason. dizziness, weakness, on top of the nausea/vomiting/exhaustion/other fun pregger stuff. i spent the majority of my pregnancy in bed wishing i could die, crying, and attempting to get rid of the pain by sleeping. i am really hoping that i don't have those problems, at least not as severe, with this pregnancy. i have already had issues with headaches, and yesterday was miserable. i had a terrible migraine complete with blurred vision and light/sound sensitivity. thankfully hubby is understanding and supportive.
i am still very stressed out about the timing of this baby. but the good news is that i am feeling better. i have been able to talk to hubby about my fear and my stress. i also got to talk to my mom about it today. although i am still scared out of my mind about my ability to handle my impending illness and take care of little buddy the way he needs and deserves, plus keep working to maintain my financial income, i am feeling better about it. i'm still not....exactly excited....but i am happier. in fact i am looking forward to having two beautiful babies. being a mother is the most fantastic thing in the world, the best thing i have ever experienced, and i imagine it only gets better as it gets harder.
both hubby and my mom said exactly the same thing to me today. things they have both said as long as they have known me. they told me that i am stronger than i think i am. that any failures come from me setting myself up, discouraging myself and beating myself up. not allowing myself to succeed. they both told me that i am a good person, a strong person, a wonderful mother. i have never really believed either of them. i try--but i don't think hard enough.
my mom brought over this picture she has had of me as long as i can remember--hanging in her bedroom. it is large, about 10x13, of me when i was about two years old. i am on the sidewalk by our house, bent at the knee and holding a couple dandelions. on the sidewalk next to me are a few more that i am picking up. i am smiling and happy. my mom cried when she gave me the picture. it is her favorite, one my grandmother had printed and gave to her. she said that she had been thinking about this picture a lot lately, especially with all of the struggles i have faced with the aftermath of my abuse. she felt inspired to bring it to me today. she told me to look at the picture, and use it to help me to find myself. to remember who i really am. that i am a strong, happy, daughter of God. that experiences do not determine who i am or whether i am a bad person or good. she said that she knows who i really am inside, that she knows i can find it--i just have a lot of things to clear out of the way before i can see it. she said she has watched me grow up, watched me struggle and fall, watched me in so much pain after what was taken from me. but in spite of all of that, she said she could always see what was inside of me, even when i couldn't. even though i still can't.
hubby says the same thing. although he hasn't known me my whole life, he didn't know me before i was abused, he can still see what i can't: the person i really am. he tells me how strong, and intelligent, and beautiful i am inside, and what a good person i am. i know he gets frustrated that i don't see it. i know it hurts him that i don't listen to him or believe him.
but maybe, just maybe, he is right. maybe my mom is right. maybe i am worth something. maybe i am a good person...maybe all of this junk, all of this pain, and hurt, and anger, and self-loathing is just hiding the true me. like a penny, left in the dirt, covered in grime. clean it off and it's beautiful, shining, pretty.
at this point i'm still too scared and hurt to see past the grime. but maybe there's a faint glimmer of hope....and although it's a cautious hope, it's still hope....like from pandora's box. thousands of ugly, terrible, horrible things, all covering the most important thing in the world: HOPE.
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
nightmare
i have had this nightmare, just beginning this last week.
i am in a cold, snowy, wooded place. there is a hill, with a road covered in snow--impassible to cars. my dad is standing there. we are inside a room i am surrounded by four other women, girls really, girls i don't really know. i am trying to tell my dad something--i am in danger. he knows something is wrong. i can't say anything to him verbally, i am trying to communicate with my eyes. my dream self is terrified, my actual self doesn't know why. my dad smiles at me, but with concern in his eyes, and leaves. i don't know why he leaves. but i think he has to--he doesn't want to. my dad has always wanted to protect me.
i find out from the other girls there is a man taking things from them. in my dream, he is taking literal things from them. i find out they are kept in a fridge, at the bottom of this hill, where the man is outside in a clearing. the other girls are sitting in a car at the top of the hill. i am able to steal back one thing from the man out of the fridge without him noticing. inside the fridge are little tupperwares, clear with a blue lid on each. inside is white frosting. (it looks like frosting.) i get away with a small one, slowly sneak up the hill and get to the top to meet up with the other four girls, who are still sitting in the car. it is a convertible. i give the tupperware back to the girl it belongs to. i tell them to leave, to run away. then the man comes up the hill. (my dream self does not recognize this man, he had a face, but it was no one i know.) he pulls out a gun. i am standing on the sidewalk, screaming hysterically as i watch him shoot and kill all four of the girls in the car. i am left alone, realizing i am in what should be a busy place. it looks like a mall. he throws the gun down in the parking lot.
then he comes after me. i cry, i scream. there is no one around to hear me. he yells. his eyes terrify me. he beats me, he takes off my clothes, slapping my face. jerking me around by my wrists. (something i HATE...because i feel so powerless, i can't fight back, i panic when someone grabs my wrists to control my arms.) he starts to undress, threatening me, telling me what he's going to do to me. just before he rapes me, i wake up. sweating, breathing hard, sometimes crying, and always terrified.
i don't sleep well anymore.
i am in a cold, snowy, wooded place. there is a hill, with a road covered in snow--impassible to cars. my dad is standing there. we are inside a room i am surrounded by four other women, girls really, girls i don't really know. i am trying to tell my dad something--i am in danger. he knows something is wrong. i can't say anything to him verbally, i am trying to communicate with my eyes. my dream self is terrified, my actual self doesn't know why. my dad smiles at me, but with concern in his eyes, and leaves. i don't know why he leaves. but i think he has to--he doesn't want to. my dad has always wanted to protect me.
i find out from the other girls there is a man taking things from them. in my dream, he is taking literal things from them. i find out they are kept in a fridge, at the bottom of this hill, where the man is outside in a clearing. the other girls are sitting in a car at the top of the hill. i am able to steal back one thing from the man out of the fridge without him noticing. inside the fridge are little tupperwares, clear with a blue lid on each. inside is white frosting. (it looks like frosting.) i get away with a small one, slowly sneak up the hill and get to the top to meet up with the other four girls, who are still sitting in the car. it is a convertible. i give the tupperware back to the girl it belongs to. i tell them to leave, to run away. then the man comes up the hill. (my dream self does not recognize this man, he had a face, but it was no one i know.) he pulls out a gun. i am standing on the sidewalk, screaming hysterically as i watch him shoot and kill all four of the girls in the car. i am left alone, realizing i am in what should be a busy place. it looks like a mall. he throws the gun down in the parking lot.
then he comes after me. i cry, i scream. there is no one around to hear me. he yells. his eyes terrify me. he beats me, he takes off my clothes, slapping my face. jerking me around by my wrists. (something i HATE...because i feel so powerless, i can't fight back, i panic when someone grabs my wrists to control my arms.) he starts to undress, threatening me, telling me what he's going to do to me. just before he rapes me, i wake up. sweating, breathing hard, sometimes crying, and always terrified.
i don't sleep well anymore.
Saturday, December 27, 2008
i can't hide from my childhood
last night was....horrific. to say the least. it has been a very long time since i've had a night like that. flashbacks...nightmares...the feeling of fear. terror. loneliness. every time i closed my eyes, i was back there, six years old again, confused, hurt and scared. panic attacks...my chest hurts. i feel as if there is a huge void behind my ribs, and they are so constricted, so tight, i cannot breathe, my lungs will not inflate. i sob hysterically, which makes the breathing more difficult than it already is. i feel as if i might die. today i am still feeling the effects of it. i'm exhausted. i barely slept. my body is weary from the emotional pain. my mind is slower today.
london bridges falling down
like my dreams it hits the ground
crushed and broken with despair
they're left forgotten and dying there
rock a bye baby
in the treetops
please let me sleep so the pain will stop
i'm just so tired and sick of trying
of playing this game while my soul is dying
mirror, mirror, on the wall
i want to fly -- you make me crawl
how did i ever come to be
this person looking back at me
twinkle, twinkle, little star
up there in heaven, you seem so far
oh God above, take away these chains
cleanse my soul,
let me live again.
"not quite a nursery rhyme,"
written by a 13-year old abuse victim
(not me)
lucky for me....i have a husband who, middle of the night and all, woke up to comfort me. to hold me and tell me it will all be okay, that there is nothing that can hurt me. that he loves me. that he is there to protect me.
you know how they say God works through other people to help us? last night (and every night) God works through my husband.
london bridges falling down
like my dreams it hits the ground
crushed and broken with despair
they're left forgotten and dying there
rock a bye baby
in the treetops
please let me sleep so the pain will stop
i'm just so tired and sick of trying
of playing this game while my soul is dying
mirror, mirror, on the wall
i want to fly -- you make me crawl
how did i ever come to be
this person looking back at me
twinkle, twinkle, little star
up there in heaven, you seem so far
oh God above, take away these chains
cleanse my soul,
let me live again.
"not quite a nursery rhyme,"
written by a 13-year old abuse victim
(not me)
lucky for me....i have a husband who, middle of the night and all, woke up to comfort me. to hold me and tell me it will all be okay, that there is nothing that can hurt me. that he loves me. that he is there to protect me.
you know how they say God works through other people to help us? last night (and every night) God works through my husband.
Friday, December 19, 2008
maybe a breakthrough
have you ever felt like you're trapped inside your own head? inside your own body? like you're not really meant to be there, you're struggling to get out, but you are locked in?
i'm not sure how much of this is depression, how much of it is personality, how much of it is because of normal life struggles. and how much of it stems from abuse. but regardless of where it comes from, it's frustrating. and difficult to handle.
last night hubby tried to get me to open up. i can't. i just...can't....lately. i am so lost inside my own mind that it is impossible to find a way out. and i'm scared. downright terrified to deal with all of the dark corners inside myself. if i open up a little, i'm afraid the floodgates will come crashing down and i will seriously lose my sanity. as it is, i'm barely holding on to it. i get defensive, and angry, and agitated when he pushes me to talk to him. part of it, too, is that i don't want him to see what is going on inside my head. i am scared that he will run away screaming. that he will stick me in a hospital. that he will wonder why he married me.
throughout my life i have had periods of time like this. dark, scary, lonely days and weeks and months. i had different ways of dealing with it. hiding (which i still do) in my room, under my covers. fought with my mom. acted out toward my siblings. did stupid things with my friends. (like jumping out of a tree into a river in the middle of the night, when i had no idea how deep the water was or where the rocks ended and the river began.) played the piano. wrote in a journal. created dark and scary works of art....illustrations of the inside of my mind. a lot of people have been disturbed by them. but one of the scary things about them to me is the way that others have been able to relate. to look at them and understand. i don't want anyone else to feel the way that i do.
last night i couldn't sleep again. i am always exhausted, always feeling lethargic, and sometimes i can sleep for 15 hours straight without a problem. then other nights, most nights, i am totally exhausted and my brain is going so fast there is no way i can sleep. so i got up and went downstairs. and then it hit...inspiration. not the regular kind of inspiration. the kind i haven't experienced in a few years. artistic inspiration. i found a pen and i started to draw...and suddenly i had an illustration of the inside of my mind again. just like i used to. just like when i was 18 and i had a million ideas forming in my head. just like when i believed i could really make it as an artist. and then the words i'd been searching for came to my head. the words i couldn't find to describe my feelings: suffocating. helpless. trapped. alone. struggling.
when i was done, i actually felt better. lighter. not happy...but not so dark and depressed, either. for so long i have had the desire to return to my art...but no desire to put the effort forth. i haven't had the desire to put forth effort in much of anything for a long time. perhaps this is a breakthrough. perhaps this one drawing will spur me forward.
i sure could use your prayers. and so could my hubby. i know he is just as lost, feeling just as helpless as i am. he is frustrated and hurt by my behavior. in fact...send your prayers to him. he needs them more than i do.
and the quest for happiness continues. the quest for normalcy continues....the quest for therapy continues.
i'm not sure how much of this is depression, how much of it is personality, how much of it is because of normal life struggles. and how much of it stems from abuse. but regardless of where it comes from, it's frustrating. and difficult to handle.
last night hubby tried to get me to open up. i can't. i just...can't....lately. i am so lost inside my own mind that it is impossible to find a way out. and i'm scared. downright terrified to deal with all of the dark corners inside myself. if i open up a little, i'm afraid the floodgates will come crashing down and i will seriously lose my sanity. as it is, i'm barely holding on to it. i get defensive, and angry, and agitated when he pushes me to talk to him. part of it, too, is that i don't want him to see what is going on inside my head. i am scared that he will run away screaming. that he will stick me in a hospital. that he will wonder why he married me.
throughout my life i have had periods of time like this. dark, scary, lonely days and weeks and months. i had different ways of dealing with it. hiding (which i still do) in my room, under my covers. fought with my mom. acted out toward my siblings. did stupid things with my friends. (like jumping out of a tree into a river in the middle of the night, when i had no idea how deep the water was or where the rocks ended and the river began.) played the piano. wrote in a journal. created dark and scary works of art....illustrations of the inside of my mind. a lot of people have been disturbed by them. but one of the scary things about them to me is the way that others have been able to relate. to look at them and understand. i don't want anyone else to feel the way that i do.
last night i couldn't sleep again. i am always exhausted, always feeling lethargic, and sometimes i can sleep for 15 hours straight without a problem. then other nights, most nights, i am totally exhausted and my brain is going so fast there is no way i can sleep. so i got up and went downstairs. and then it hit...inspiration. not the regular kind of inspiration. the kind i haven't experienced in a few years. artistic inspiration. i found a pen and i started to draw...and suddenly i had an illustration of the inside of my mind again. just like i used to. just like when i was 18 and i had a million ideas forming in my head. just like when i believed i could really make it as an artist. and then the words i'd been searching for came to my head. the words i couldn't find to describe my feelings: suffocating. helpless. trapped. alone. struggling.
when i was done, i actually felt better. lighter. not happy...but not so dark and depressed, either. for so long i have had the desire to return to my art...but no desire to put the effort forth. i haven't had the desire to put forth effort in much of anything for a long time. perhaps this is a breakthrough. perhaps this one drawing will spur me forward.
i sure could use your prayers. and so could my hubby. i know he is just as lost, feeling just as helpless as i am. he is frustrated and hurt by my behavior. in fact...send your prayers to him. he needs them more than i do.
and the quest for happiness continues. the quest for normalcy continues....the quest for therapy continues.
Saturday, October 18, 2008
the unwelcome dictator
sometimes my depression rules me.
i hate this. i really, really, really hate this. i hate the fact that i don't remember what life is like without it. i hate the fact that my depression affects the ones i love so negatively. but most of all, i hate that fact that i feel so helpless about changing it. i have spent at least half of my life trying to figure out how to make it better. there are some things that give me a temporary fix. my art, for one. blogging, for another, also writing in a journal. i reread some of the things i wrote in my journals when i was 12, 13, 14, even 18 and 19, and i am scared. scared for myself, for what i was dealing with, for those around me who had to put up with my volatility.
i am scared for my husband. for my son. for my future children. for myself.
about every two months or so, i lose it. seriously lose it. i battle the depression in some form or another on a daily basis. mostly in the form of self-loathing, self-defeating thoughts and actions. but these "episodes" are much more than being weepy, and down on myself, and losing interest in things i love. they involve screaming, yelling, sobbing hysterically, slamming doors, saying things i don't mean, running away from myself and everyone around me. hiding under my covers from reality. making threats i don't mean and i don't want to follow through with. damaging the most important thing in my life: my relationship with my husband. suicidal thoughts. anxiety. mood swings. all within the space of an hour or two. zero to sixty in about thirty seconds.
and after the episode, i am miserable. i am embarrassed. i am completely ashamed of myself and my actions. and my husband, emotionally battered, bruised, and hurt beyond anything i can comprehend, cries. hugs me. pushes his feelings aside. and goes on with the hurt and fear of my leaving him. and i want to crawl under a rock and die every time i think of it.
i have been in and out of counseling since i was 13 years old. i saw my very first counselor at the ripe old age of 10. put on anti-depressants at 11. i have been on and off medication. many, many, many kinds of it. sometimes there will be a temporary fix. sometimes things get worse. but always it ends up cycling back to the beginning. all progress i have made is lost in the space of two minutes.
i am tired. tired, frustrated, fearful. my life has been riddled with psychological trauma. but my life has also been full of blessings. of loving and supportive family and friends. of every opportunity for medical help. so why, oh why, in spite of all the good i have had, in spite of all of the hard work i have done, does this continue to happen?
the saddest thing? all of the innocent people who have to deal with my insanity. my husband. and my son. oh, my poor son, who has a mother who loves him more than life itself. my son who has a mother that routinely loses every ounce of dignity and sanity she possesses. my beautiful child who will be scarred for life because his mother has a mental illness she cannot deal with.
my greatest fear. the fear i have lived with my entire life, every time i thought about having children, from the age i was old enough to comprehend the responsibility of being a parent. the fear that my child will resent me. that my child will hurt because of me, because of my actions. that my child will suffer psychologically and emotionally because of me. every parent makes mistakes, every parent screws up their kid in one way or another. it's part of life. i get that. but i will never, never forgive myself if my child hurts due to negative parental relationships. due to the mental illness of a parent.
god bless my son. and my husband. and my future children. god bless them for loving me in spite of my many failures. and god bless me with the knowledge to change.
i hate this. i really, really, really hate this. i hate the fact that i don't remember what life is like without it. i hate the fact that my depression affects the ones i love so negatively. but most of all, i hate that fact that i feel so helpless about changing it. i have spent at least half of my life trying to figure out how to make it better. there are some things that give me a temporary fix. my art, for one. blogging, for another, also writing in a journal. i reread some of the things i wrote in my journals when i was 12, 13, 14, even 18 and 19, and i am scared. scared for myself, for what i was dealing with, for those around me who had to put up with my volatility.
i am scared for my husband. for my son. for my future children. for myself.
about every two months or so, i lose it. seriously lose it. i battle the depression in some form or another on a daily basis. mostly in the form of self-loathing, self-defeating thoughts and actions. but these "episodes" are much more than being weepy, and down on myself, and losing interest in things i love. they involve screaming, yelling, sobbing hysterically, slamming doors, saying things i don't mean, running away from myself and everyone around me. hiding under my covers from reality. making threats i don't mean and i don't want to follow through with. damaging the most important thing in my life: my relationship with my husband. suicidal thoughts. anxiety. mood swings. all within the space of an hour or two. zero to sixty in about thirty seconds.
and after the episode, i am miserable. i am embarrassed. i am completely ashamed of myself and my actions. and my husband, emotionally battered, bruised, and hurt beyond anything i can comprehend, cries. hugs me. pushes his feelings aside. and goes on with the hurt and fear of my leaving him. and i want to crawl under a rock and die every time i think of it.
i have been in and out of counseling since i was 13 years old. i saw my very first counselor at the ripe old age of 10. put on anti-depressants at 11. i have been on and off medication. many, many, many kinds of it. sometimes there will be a temporary fix. sometimes things get worse. but always it ends up cycling back to the beginning. all progress i have made is lost in the space of two minutes.
i am tired. tired, frustrated, fearful. my life has been riddled with psychological trauma. but my life has also been full of blessings. of loving and supportive family and friends. of every opportunity for medical help. so why, oh why, in spite of all the good i have had, in spite of all of the hard work i have done, does this continue to happen?
the saddest thing? all of the innocent people who have to deal with my insanity. my husband. and my son. oh, my poor son, who has a mother who loves him more than life itself. my son who has a mother that routinely loses every ounce of dignity and sanity she possesses. my beautiful child who will be scarred for life because his mother has a mental illness she cannot deal with.
my greatest fear. the fear i have lived with my entire life, every time i thought about having children, from the age i was old enough to comprehend the responsibility of being a parent. the fear that my child will resent me. that my child will hurt because of me, because of my actions. that my child will suffer psychologically and emotionally because of me. every parent makes mistakes, every parent screws up their kid in one way or another. it's part of life. i get that. but i will never, never forgive myself if my child hurts due to negative parental relationships. due to the mental illness of a parent.
god bless my son. and my husband. and my future children. god bless them for loving me in spite of my many failures. and god bless me with the knowledge to change.
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