It's the fault of my body

It's the fault of my body, It enticed him, he craved
My body was never my own
 It made him want so I gave


I laid there with him my body empty, lifeless, and hollow
In my tears I was pained
In my sadness I wallowed

 Turning my head and out the window I looked
distracting myself  with the clouds
 while my innocence he took

I wanted to be In those clouds or the trees swaying In the breeze
Not that broken sad child
Begging with her cries and her pleas

It's the fault of my body, It made him yearn and desire
So he went after It and killed my body with his  fire

 I fought him I tried kicking and pushing him away with my might
But his weight was so heavy
 I gave up the fight

Out he walked and there I lay, dead and engulfed in my pain
I got ready for school and walked away
slowly hanging my head In shame

dead was my body sore hurt and raw.
no one ever bothered to care or question
 the bruises that they saw

Its the fault of my body and the dresses that I wore
He said I was asking for It
And called me his little whore

It's the fault of my body and the innocence that I had
He used his power over me for something bad

It's the fault of my body It showed him how to take
How to come in and steal
and my soul to break

Running

Running, running, running, through the house. A different house, and I am older now. Eighteen. I run to my room and try to slam the door shut. He Is still stronger. He pushes hard against It, and I push back. Finally he wins and the door slams open. I stumble backwards. He grabs me and throws me on the bed.

He hasn't done that In a long time. He had stopped. He only hit. She died so I felt bad for him and stayed. I thought If he only hit me It was safe to stay. This time was different. I fell on the bed on my back and he dragged me towards him. I screamed for help but knew like before no one would come to save me. I knew what was coming. I could feel It like a lump In my throat. He started to yank at my clothes, tried to take off my pants. This wasn't going to happen again. I kicked him. I kicked him hard. He stumbled back and got angrier. He lunged at me. His body was met with my kick again. I never stopped kicking. He flew against the wall. Got up and tried again this time when I kicked him he fell and flew Into a chair. He was hurt. I was stronger. I wasn't that small tattered bird anymore. I could fight. I could stop It. I got up and I ran. I ran down the stairs and out of the house. I kept running until I couldn't run anymore.

And I never went back

The closet

I sat In the closet last night, I closed my eyes, and I started to drift. I went back to that other time and saw what I didn't want to. But the closet felt safe. It felt familiar, and It felt warm so I let the badness In. I can sit In there and remember the bad things and soak up my tears with the clothes. Maybe I did this when I was little. Yes I think I did. I see doors In front of my face, with light seeping In through the cracks. I hear movement on the other side, I see the way his dark shadow fell and covered the light. The closet door opened, I want to pretend for a moment that the little girl Is not me. She Is crying. Devil grabs her by her arm yanking hard for her to come out. He closes the door to the bedroom.

I can't say anymore

He's on top of her, grunting and pushing, trying to fit where he doesn't belong. He says she's a big girl now. She didn't want to be big, in fact she felt very small. She WAS small, tiny In comparison to him. Laying underneath him being crushed by his weight. She struggles to breath. Not being able to take complete breaths. This was made even worse when his hand was over her mouth. It was day time. She could see the trees outside the window. The blinds were opened and the sunlight poured into the room spreading It's rays over her face and across his back.

I can't say anymore

Where was everyone? It was day time. I was screaming wasn't I? Or was that all In my head? Was I mute then? Had I given up? Why was the house so quiet? Where was my sister? My brother? Where was my mother? Who left me alone with him? Who thought that was okay? Why didn't anyone save me?


I see more. He climbs off. Zips his pants, and walks away closing the door behind him. She lays there In the disgusting filth. Hurting, bleeding, and numb, watching the trees blow In the breeze outside the window.

hiding

I am hiding between mommy's bed and the wall. He Is coming and we are alone In the house. I quiet my breathing so he doesn't hear. I can hear his boots as they enter the room. The smell of him everywhere. Harsh steps moving fast throughout the room. They stop, I am found, I squeeze my eyes shut tight and wait. He grabs me It's over.

That's all I remember

Go Away!

I've been shutting the memories out of my head all day. My mind wants to remember more. My mind wants to force all that bad ugliness In. "I can't just sit and think about this now I'm working!" I tell my mind. It doesn't listen, It forces It's way In anyways. I  can't run from It, I can't hid from It. And I can't function without It spilling into my brain like poison. I can tell It to go away, or come again another day. But when I shut It out I feel worse, I hurt worse. And It doesn't stay away for long. It always creeps back In on me, leaving me with this black cloud of pain above my head hanging there for the world to see. I wish I could release all of this hurt that's on my heart, just let It all go with one single action. Be done and move on. But It's not that simple. I don't want to remember today. I want a break. I am playing a game of tug-a-war with my brain. It's pulling the rope tighter and harder on It's end, while I lose the battle due to my weakness and crash to the earth face first. I don't want to remember today. I don't want to cry. I refuse to close my eyes, I refuse to let It control me today. I just want a break.


Please go away bad things I beg of you now.
I wish to sleep but I don't know how

I don't like these memories, or these  pictures that I  see
I screamed and cried but no one ever came to save me

Please go away and don't bring any more pain
GO AWAY I feel like If you don't I will go insane

I don't want to feel, or remember his touch
run away memories, I don't want to see you, It hurts to much

Please go away, you've shown me what I never wanted to see
slip from my mind, vanish from my thoughts, please just let me be

I don't want want to remember his smile, sweat or his smell
Or the way he made that tiny baby promise not to tell

Please go away bad memories, It pains me to breath
 Everything hurts, I need time to grieve

I don't like the dirtiness and the way I've carried this shame
I've spent my whole life walking this earth thinking I was to blame

Please go away bad memories, I wish that you had never come
when you grace my presence you leave and I feel numb

I don't like to hear the voice In my head of that  child begging him to stop
Or remember as he didn't listen, threw her down, and climbed on top

Please go away bad memories you make my body remember what It once forgot
I also remember dolls, jewelry, and toys he left, making him think forgiveness he'd bought

I do not wish to see any further or to remember the blood that ran down her skin
what that father did was wrong, sick, and disgusting, It was the ultimate sin

Please go away I hate everything I see in these horrible, hurtful things
I feel like a bird laying waiting to die with its broken tattered wings

I do not wish to know what was done, be a victim, or live any longer in this past
I ache, I hurt, I scream, I cry, I beg, I see, I remember how long will this last?

Please go away all sadness you've been here far far to long
My heart Is always aching and singing Its sad sad song

I don't like these bad dreams or this life living with these  fears
My heart Is heavy and my body Is raw, I am blinded by my tears

Please go away bad things I beg of you now
I wish to sleep but I don't know how

The memories that play In my head like a movie

I am sitting here. I close my eyes. The darkness takes over again. I see two different memories play In my head. In one I am six maybe seven and I am sitting In the bathroom crying my pajamas have blood on them. I don't remember what happened. Or why I am bleeding but I'm In pain. All I see Is this bruised, crying child.

The second memory, I am older maybe 13 or so. Devil Is chasing me down the hall way he has knives In has hands, my heart Is racing. My legs aren't fast enough. I run into my room and try to close the door, but hes too strong. It fly's open. And that's all I see. I don't know what happens when he catches me.

My heart cries for those little girls with these unfinished stories.

Writing exercise #2: Grieving

Write about what you've lost, what was taken, what was destroyed. Write about the extent of the damage. Write about the things you need to grieve for. This is a chance to give a voice to your pain, and to write how you feel about your loss.

At first I felt stupid crying and getting so upset about something that happened so long ago. It's over I'm safe now so why are these tears still falling? I also thought It was silly for me to even be sharing my story because other people have It so much worse. Who was I to complain? But I've realized that EVERY experience counts, EVERY story matters...even mine.

When ever someone dies there Is a mourning process for those that he or she left behind. Everyone somehow grieves for what was lost. They cry, they scream, they get angry. They express them selves. They let their feelings out.

The same process should happen for a child who was sexually abused. They should be able to cry, scream, and  get angry for what they lost, for what was taken from them. If a child Is abused and someone intervenes, stops it, and gets the them help. They can start healing then and there. Maybe the damage can be lessened. But what happens to kids like me? Ones who no one stepped In to save...Do we have to save ourselves? I never got to cry, I never got to scream, I NEVER got to get angry. He hit me, molested me, and raped me and Instead of crying over It I went on with life. I got up the next day and went to kindergarten. And every time he hurt me In some way I lost a part of my self. That little girl died In that house, my father killed her spirit, her laugh, and her ability to trust. He killed everything that was important. I need to mourn for what was lost. What she lost. That little one didn't get a saving, or intervention then. But I get one now. I want to cry, and scream and get angry until there's no anger left. I can't move forward until that need Is met. I have to look all of this hurt In the eye and fight It with every ounce of myself.

He took away my ability to choose, my choice of saying no. He took away experiences that I never got to have, relationships I never got to build. He took away my discovery of sex on my own. He took possession over my  virgin body and did what he wished with It. Now no matter how far I am on my journey sex will ALWAYS be linked to bad, evil, hurtful things. His actions made me question the motives of every man I ever come In contact with. The physical acts left less scars then the emotional scars. I have to grieve for what was done to my body, my soul, and to my mind.

It WILL be hard but this Is the only way I can come out on the other side. It's going to take time, It can't be rushed. Every new memory that emerges must be dealt with. When I wrote about the crib scene, the 1st memory I have. And when I cried over It and let myself really feel It, The dreams about It stopped. Now that memory doesn't feel as hurtful as It did before. I am growing, I am making progress.

I have to keep writing, I have to keep feeling, I have to cry, and scream, and I have to get angry. I have to let the feelings out before they tighten their grip they have on me. "You have a lot to grieve for. You grieve for your violation, abandonment, shame, and fear. You grieve for your losses In the past and In the present, for the harm that was done to you, the wounding you now must heal, the time and energy It takes, the money It costs, the relationships ruined, the pleasures missed. You grieve for the opportunities lost while you were busy coping. You grieve for the  shattered image of a world that is just, where children are cared for, where people respect each other. You must mourn your lost innocence." - The Courage To Heal book

It's late...

I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking right now. I have a million thoughts bouncing through my head. Most of them are about my future. I just mostly wonder what type of life I will have. I'm 22 and have so much time left but It feels like I've already lived an eternity. I want all of this to become something that happened to me but made me a stronger person. I don't want to be labeled by this forever. I may have the scars both emotionally and physically that serve as constant reminders but maybe I can see those scars as showing me where I've been, and how far I've come. I've traveled a road that very few survive on. I may be damaged but I'm here. I want to live, I want to travel and see parts of the world I've only dreamed of until now. I want to fall head over heels In love, and I want to get my heart broken. As crazy as that seems I want that because that's a basic human experience that almost every person has had. It's a part of life. It helps people grow Into the adults they end up becoming. I want all of those experiences because what Is life without It? If every life was perfect we would get bored. I've already been through the worst of life short of death...everything else seems relatively easy in comparison. I also want to have babies, I want to hold their tiny bodies In my arms and count their tiny toes while whispering promises to love them forever In their tiny ears. I don't even know If I would make a good mother but It's something to think about. I want the option. I want to have everything and also very little all at the same time. I just want happiness.

I don't know what the future holds for me but It has to be better then what the past held. I am optimistic then one day I will look In the mirror and say "I may not be fully healed and I may never be, but I love myself, and others  love me and I'm happy. And today that's enough"

"Your journey has molded you for greater good. And It was exactly what It needed to be. Don't think that you've lost time. It took each and every situation you've encountered to bring you to the now. And now Is right on time." - Asha Tyson

Writing Exercise #1: The Effects

"Write about the ways you're still affected by the abuse. What are you still carrying In terms of your feelings of self-worth, and your relationships? How Is your life still pained, still limited?"

 Self-worth...I wake up each morning wishing I hadn't. Thinking I don't deserve to be here. Although I know I do deserve It I don't believe those words even from myself. My father taught me that I was here simply for sex. I had no worth In the eyes of anyone In this world unless I was laying on my back. I always put others before myself although that's not always a good thing. When will anyone ever put me first? I don't even know what self-worth Is because I don't have any.

Relationships....I don't date, but I have lots of friends. I wish that I could date but I know I may never be ready for that. With my friends I laugh and joke constantly and rarely show that there's another side to me. I am selective about who I choose to talk to and even with those selections I trust no one.

My life Is still pained because no matter what I do I always have a sense of fear that there Is someone lurking behind every corner waiting to hurt me. I am afraid of what the darkness brings. In my mind I have new people that care about me. But It's all an act. I really mean nothing to them and I feel like my entire existence now Is waiting on them to all walk away from me.

I am limited because I don't trust anyone but especially men. I can never marry or have a family If I don't learn to trust. Everything In my life Is limited by what has happened to me. My past is like a noose that's choking the life out of every experience I ever have.

"Write about your strengths with pride."

I am stronger then anyone I know. I had the knowledge and resilience to survive the abuse I suffered then and to make a life for myself now In the present.  I am beautiful and loved despite what he told me. I find beauty In the world around me, and love back despite what was done to me. I am independent and wise. I am kind and giving. I will make It past all these hurtful things I hold on to. I will be fully happy.

Reading

Today I started reading The Courage To Heal: A Guide For Women Survivors Of Child Sexual Abuse. I don't know If this book will help me or If Its even worth It to try but here I sit reading It and trying to let It work It's magic on me. I  feel like my entire life Is wrapped up In incest. It's all I think about, It's all I want to talk about(but I don't), and It's even my reading material. I feel completely smothered by my past. But I guess the only way to gain control over It Is to fully immerse myself into It.

"All suffering Is bearable If It Is seen as part of a story." - Isak Dinesen

Support groups part 2

Dear diary,

I decided to go to the support group. Everything hurts. Maybe I shouldn't have gone. Maybe I shouldn't have shared my story. I feel completely open and raw. Like my insides are just exposed and being poked at. It's so cold. I can't feel my hands or my feet. I'm shaking so bad I can barely type. I keep having the same flash back over and over of me being four and him being on top me me. All I want to do Is find that little girl and wrap her up In my arms until she feels safe. Maybe If I make her feel safe I will feel safe.

That's all for now I can't type anymore

Support Groups

Months ago I found a support group for adults who were abused as children. And I thought maybe It would be a good idea to try It and see If It helps me at all. So I went and the second I got there I felt out of place. Everyone seemed so depressed and done with life. They were there because they were done with life and just wanted a place to go to talk about their feelings. I was there because I wanted to find a way to live and be happy. But I stayed. I open up a little bit about my story as awkward as sharing was. And Instantly I felt sick. When the meeting was over I was completely calm, got In the car and drove myself home. I pulled In the drive way and that's when the shit hit the fan. I started shaking uncontrollably, crying, and hyperventilating. This went on for hours and hours. Finally my phone rang and I talked to a friend and that was the only thing that calmed me down. Finally I could leave the driveway and go inside the house. The entire next week was horrible and I could barely sleep or eat.

I never went back to the group because of my strong reaction. Now as sometime has passed I am beginning to think that maybe I should go back. Maybe I just have to learn to push past that first initial reaction and keep going. I don't know what to do. I don't want to feel like that again, especially to feel like that and be alone. But I also know I need to work through some of my issues. Maybe the group can help. The next meeting Is tomorrow night at 730. I'm scared, and nervous,  I don't want to do this alone. I have a day to decide to go or not....

Three Words Of The Week #1

"No Pity, No Shame, No Silence"

Pity
I don't want people to feel sorry for me. The one who should be sorry Isn't, and his apologies don't mean anything anyways. I don't want to be looked at differently or judged for who I am. I am more then this. I will not have the word victim slapped on my forehead because I am more then what he made me. Don't say your sorry. That gets me nowhere. Even If you can't find the words simple sit with me, there is no need to apologize to me for something that you could not control. When I talk, If I choose you, be a friend and listen kindly. I am not looking for advice or understanding. Just listen Is all I ask, be an ear when I have no other.

Shame
I am ashamed of my own body. It betrayed me after all. It was my body that enticed him, Made him want. So I gave. My body never belonged to me, I was his property and he did with me as he pleased. When I look In the mirror I see everything that he touched, I see scars that he left, and I see a girl that Is ashamed to be In the skin that she was given. Everyday I wake up and feel guilty because of what was done to me. I ask my self If It was my fault and did I deserve this. Even knowing otherwise I still believe the things he said I think sometimes that the shame and the guilt that stays can sometimes be worse then the act itself that was inflicted upon us. I am ashamed that this happened to me. I am ashamed that my father was the person responsible. I am ashamed that I never told. And I am ashamed that It went on for as long as It did.

Silence
I was silenced for to long. I was a child that was meant to be seen and not heard. I spoke when spoken to, and most definitely never spoke of secrets. These secrets were for nighttime only and existed In another world, a world made up of daddies and little girls. I never spoke up because I didn't know speaking up was even an option. Abuse was normal so what would speaking up do? And who would I have told? My mother? Would she have even done anything? Or just drink more? No I couldn't speak then. He would have killed me If I told. But I can speak now. I can give myself the voice I never had. I can scream It all from the rooftops. I can tell the world. I can shed light on this issue. I can give It a name, speak of it, share my story, and encourage other survivors. I will not be silent any longer. If justice for me will never be found then I can make my own justice with my words.

Sisters

I miss my sister so much I ache. She was everything to me. She cared for me and taught me things. She read to me at night. She kissed me when I fell. She was the mother I found when I had none. I miss our closeness and our days spent just laughing and doing nothing. I miss us talking about everything and sharing our secrets. I wish I could have some of that back, even for just a moment. She was always supposed to be here, but like everyone she disappointed me. She took his side, believed him. Tore me down. I have no one. I am not physically linked to anyone In this world anymore. Years from now the friends that I have may move on, get bored with me. That's what friends do, but family Is supposed to be here always. If a person doesn't have family what do they have? Should I have kept my mouth shut and just put up with him In order to maintain what small bit of family I had? As wrong and twisted as It all was I miss being able to say that I had family. I think I miss her more then my mom. When she was alive my mom was always sleeping, always In pain, always on medication, always drunk. But my sister and I shared something that no one else could understand. Tho very different experiences we both grew up In this crazy family and somehow lived to tale the tale. She wasn't supposed to walk away from me. She wasn't supposed to take his side.

No one ever fought for me. No one was ever on my side. I thought that person was supposed to be my sister, I was wrong. I looked up to her. I copied everything she did. Then one day she stomped on my heart that my father had already ripped out and broken. I will never get back what I had with her. Because she did more then just hurt and disappoint  me but she further proved to me that there's no one I can ever trust but myself. She taught me that no matter how much you love someone they can always hurt you. She also taught me that no one In this life will ever fight for me. I'll never be important enough. Maybe I needed to learn these lessons anyways. Maybe I didn't.

I will not be bought

I think the thing that makes me maddest Is the gifts. Him thinking my body could be bought In exchange for dolls and jewelry. Like the toys that were left outside my door the next morning suddenly made up for  all of the hurt he inflicted upon me. Did his apologies mean anything? Was he actually truly sorry? If so, why did he continue to do It? " I'm sorry I hurt you baby, I"ll never do It again." "Do you like that barbie I got you? Would you like more?" Where was his logic coming from? Turning his youngest daughter In to a cheap slut. The fact that I thought that was a normal thing for daddy's and daughters to do and that I played with those toys and wore that jewelry makes me sick to my stomach. I never knew It was wrong because It's all I ever knew. I was supposed to do this and when It was over he was supposed to give me gifts. This Is how my world worked. But It was a secret world. No one could know because daddy's shared this special time with their daughters and you couldn't tell because then other people would get jealous and be sad. My secret world was controlled both mentally and with violence. So I kept my mouth shut and did what he asked, afterwards laying In bed wondering what present I would find the next morning. I always thought In order to get things that I wanted I had to make other people happy. I knew this Is how It worked but It still made me feel dirty and hurt and made me sad and I couldn't understand why.

My body can't be bought. I am more then that no matter what he thought. I deserved to be loved and cared for without anyone demanding anything In return. I was used and tricked and It wasn't my fault or a reflection of the kind of woman I am today. Even tho I feel broken and damaged beyond repair I am not. I will not allow what he did to me to break my spirit. I am more then what my father made me.

This is what I am going to say to my self today, hopefully eventually I will believe It.

Remembering

I cant remember everything he did. Sometimes I'm scared for those memories to come back and other times I wish they would. It's my life and there are so many gaps and holes In It. Not only Is most of the bad stuff blocked out but also the good. There had to be some good times right? I know that I was abused sexually from baby to age eight and later on when I was eleven. I remember maybe five incidents fully but I know that It also happened multiple times a week I just can't remember much of It. I see things In flashes and small bits In my mind. Its not that I want to remember every horrible thing that happened to me but I want to understand more of exactly what happened. I feel like I cant let go of some of the feelings attached to It If I cant remember more. I remember him being on top of me, sweating on me, his weight crushing me. And I remember being In pain. But I don't remember the process of actually being raped. Was I raped?  Am I simply crazy? Why can't I remember? Maybe he climbed off? Maybe he decided not to take It that far? Why does my mind want to believe this but my heart says otherwise?

He stole my life from me. My memories aren't even my own.

Does he feel anything?

I wonder If Devil ever thinks about me. Does he think about what he did? Does he feel anything? Can someone just hurt their daughter that way and not even think It's wrong?  He ruined my life. I am nothing, and I never even got a chance to be anything. He made me believe I was a slut, stupid, worthless and trash that he could use as he pleased and then toss aside. He never cared about me, no matter how much he pretended he did. He liked It when I cried. When I begged him to stop. "Daddy please stop" "Daddy I'll do anything you want, don't hurt me". He got off on hearing me beg...eventually I stopped begging. He wasn't listening to those pleas anyways.

He liked to hurt me right next to mommy. He liked that she slept so hard when she took her pills. I remember pulling on her shirt, my mind screaming at her to wake up. She didn't hear me. How could she sleep while her baby was In trouble? I wanted to die. But I was always to afraid to leave her with him. When they would fight he would choke her so hard her feet would lift off the ground. I couldn't let him hurt her. I had to be daddy's little princess and tend to his needs. Make him feel like a man.

The tears wont stop. I cant get his face out of my mind. I wish someone would wrap me up In their arms and love me. Am I unlovable? Devil said I was. Did I make Devil mad, Is that why he hurt me? Was It my disobedience? My talking back? My inability to please him the way he wished? Why was I chosen?  Is It my fault for allowing It to happen by being to scared to tell anyone? Why won't anyone answer my questions?

I feel like I'm both carrying the weight of a boulder and like I'm empty all at the same time. I am both crying and feel numb at the same time. I just wish I could run away and escape all this pain but I can't run fast enough.

I am broken and damaged beyond repair.

I know what your going through

I really hate when people say "I know what your going through". Even In almost identical situations you never completely know what another person is going through because everyone Is affected so differently by the same things. Even more so when the person hasn't dealt with what someone else has In life they can't relate, no matter how much they think they can. You know what I'm going through? Really? Were both of your parents alcoholics? Was your mother a drug addict? Did she die when you needed her? Did your father the person who was sent to care for and love you, sexually and physically abuse you for years while you mother sat by oblivious to it all? Do you suffer from flashbacks and panic attacks regularly? Do you wake up from night mares crying most nights? Does the thought of going to sleep every night make you want to throw up? No? Then you have no idea what I'm going through. But thanks for saying that and further pissing me off.....

Some of my art work

 Some of my art work. I want to get into drawing again and maybe take up painting. When I draw I feel completely calm. I don't have to think at all when I draw. Just pencil to paper nothing else matters In that moment. It's so peaceful.

.

 I'm goofing around It's midnight I hope this washes off tomorrow -_-

Talking

I worry about ever talking about my story. Good or bad It's still my life. Everyone has stories about when they were a kid that they share. I find it difficult to contribute because my good childhood memories were few and far between. So since I have no good things to share do I Just sit there quietly when other people engage in a conversation? When do I ever get to talk about my life? Yeah I can come on here and write but Is that supposed to be enough?

My mom Is dead. I lost her and I feel lost without her. I never talk about her. Her memory is fading away and now all that's left Is a crate of her old things. The more time that passes the more she disappears. She may have made some bad decisions but she tried. Maybe not to the best of her abilities but maybe she didn't know what her best was. She deserves to be remembered. She deserves to be talked about. And I deserve to talk about her. I deserve to remember everything about her. And I deserve to miss her.

She was beautiful, kind, loving, caring, sensitive, and complex. I miss everything about her. But mostly I miss her voice, her laughter, and what It felt like when she would lay down next to me and rub my head until I fell asleep. Even when I was 17. I could wish to have had the best mom In the world. But I was given her. And shes the one I want.



My dad was an evil abuser. Sometimes I want to scream that from the roof tops. Sometimes I wish the whole world knew and that I didn't have to fear being judged or looked at differently. When do I get to talk about that? And no not to a computer screen but to a real life person.

I hate telling people because then they look at me and only see a victim. Suddenly all the other things I've accomplished are insignificant and I am made up solely of the abuse that was inflicted upon me."I want people to see my resilience not all my pain."(quote from someone on www.pandys.org )  I want them to hear what I have to say and look at me and see my strength. Yes I'm a victim but I survived It, and I get up and I live life everyday. Don't judge what you don't understand. Please.

If I never talk about It how do I grow? Obviously It doesn't need to be dinnertime conversation all the time. But It DOES need to be accepted and put out there. What happened to me made me who I am. By shutting It out I am being denied a part of myself. By shutting It out I continue to blame myself and pretend none of  It happened. By shutting It out....Devil wins. He silenced me for long enough. Somehow I need to put my brave pants on and learn to talk about It. And I need to find people who are worth hearing It.

Letters

A year ago I admitted what actually happen. I told a friend and I feel like I've been on a downward spiral ever sense. Slowly battling all of this and I feel like I'm completely alone even tho I know I am not. I told and then I didn't know what to do so I left It alone and didn't talk about It very often. It just turned Into something that happened when I was a kid. Not something that I was still struggling with. So I took that big leap. I told. Then I regressed back Into my shell and hid from what I told. I can't do that again. Keep going back and forth and never accomplishing anything. My new resolve Is to see change. Everyone makes New Years Resolutions. Mine this year Is to simply grow. Learn who I am and maybe actually be truly happy for once. That feels like a long way off. Maybe even unattainable but I can try.

When I told my friend I felt like a 500lb weight had been lifted off of my back. I could finally breath. She of course reassured and tried to help as much as possible. But our lives are vastly different. Very few people understand me. But I appreciated her efforts and that meant more to me then anything else because I didn't need her to "help" me all I needed was for someone to listen and actually believe what I had to say. And she did. She also talked to her mom and asked for help. Her mom has gone through a lot of tough things In her own life and was more better equipped to handle this sort of thing. So I talked to her mom. Its helped a little. She had me write letters to both of my parents(letters I obviously would never send) and give them to her so I wrote. I wish I would have said more. Wrote out more of what my head was screaming but I didn't. Now as I look at these letters I consider burning them. Maybe watching them go up in flames will some how relieve me. I'm not going to write what I put In the letters because It's too angry and I don't feel like being angry right now. Maybe one day I will before I burn them. But here's what my friends mom wrote In response to my letters.
(what I highlight are the points that I really want to remember)
12/13/2010

(Insert my name here),

Your poor darling girl. I sort of suspected what happened with your dad, as well as the feelings that you have. I am very sorry you have had to experience these things. Your anger is justified, you have been victimized by the very people who are supposed to care for you and keep you safe. Being angry about what you experienced Is normal.


Your dad stepped over the line and that is horrifying for you and he was wrong. And now he has denied what he did and you cant change him. But you can change your future going forward. Your mother dying because of alcohol and drug abuse is further abandonment for you and being mad at her is very normal to. In both of these situations I would be surprised If you weren't angry.

Unfortunately, you are a victim of your parent's weaknesses and the intensity of those experiences have really impacted your life. Parents are supposed to love and care for their children, however we constantly hear about parents that don't do that, and It is very sad and makes for a very messed society. Thankfully we have out loving god that we can trust and count on and look to for support and guidance. You and I are so fortunate because we DO have that love; and he can cancel out all the bad experiences that we have If we let him. We know that In his promised new world we will feel love and happiness like we cant even imagine. That is really something to keep our eyes focused on. In the meantime, we rely on him to help us through our struggles, talking to him like the loving parent that he Is to us. He hurts when we hurt, he rejoices In our joys.

Continue to write down your feelings. Write a letter a day if it helps. You can give them to me to read, or just write them. Tell your mom and dad what you wish they had done for you, instead of what they did. Tell them they didn't do their job to protect you and care for you. Tell them you didn't deserve any of what happened to you, because you are a bright and wonderful gift and they didn't honor that. They didn't cherish the gift they were given; Instead they let their weaknesses try to destroy you. Tell them that you will not be overcome with sadness In spite of the circumstances you left behind. It didn't destroy you, It didn't beat you. Their weaknesses have not become yours. They hurt you and made you feel very small and unloved. but you are rising above that and above their words, their actions, and their hurts.

I totally understand how you are  feeling...(this is where she goes on to tell me her own story which I will not share because It's not mine to do so)

But none of how you were treated is who you are. You are important, you have the opportunity to be a wonderful,caring, giving person. You can get up everyday and choose who you will be despite what has been done to you. Despite the angry, sad past that you have had. Despite the terrible things you've endured, you CAN overcome and be, not just a survivor, but someone who lives and loves despite the lack thereof.

Even If you don't believe It at first, each day stand In the mirror and tell yourself: Today I have value. I am important to god who loves me more then any person can, and I ave value to others around me. I will choose to be kind and caring. I will try to find good things to think and say about other people. When I do these things and people respond It will help me feel good about myself." Look for ways to show kindness to others and to be loving even If It takes effort. This will help you overcome the smallness you feel Inside. Because when you impact others and see results. It uplifts you.

Because we have been hurt deeply, you and I both know that we are not alone. So many people out there are struggling with their pain. They suffer and lash out at others because of It. What things happened In your mothers life to cause her to abandon her children, and allow a man she married to hurt you and find contentment In a bottle of pills and alcohol? What things happened In your fathers life that caused him to forget his responsibility to keep his child safe and instead take his rage and hurt out on you? I ask these questions because along with anger and pain, there will need to come some understanding.  It Is necessary, because the most important thing to understand about what you have experienced Is: IT IS NOT YOU! There Is nothing wrong with you, that caused them to act like this. There was nothing wrong with you, that made them forget to parent or be responsible or to love you In the way they should have. IT WAS NOT YOU!

The sooner you begin to understand that, and realize It was their weaknesses and their personal pain, the sooner you can begin to love yourself the way they didn't. To love the girl that was hurt and give her the life, love and family she deserves. It will have to come from you, because  It didn't come from them, and It won't. That's sad, but It's the reality. We wish In our hearts that It would be different, but It isn't. So we acknowledge It and find love In everyday things and try to uplift ourselves so that we can uplift others.

You are a victim, but you don't have to live a victim's life. When I learned that the things that happened to me weren't my fault, I started to grow because I realized I wasn't defective. What I see reflected In the eyes of others when I am kind and caring, help me everyday to find value. It Is still a struggle 50 years later, but I have so much peace In my heart because I know that my children will never have to know the pain and suffering that I did. That's how you change It. You struggle, But you decide to make It better for yourself going forward.

You will have a good life. You are 21 years old and far ahead of where I was at your age. I didn't get help until I was almost 30 and It took almost 10 years of therapy to find my way out. I didn't have anyone to talk to besides a paid therapist. You have so much more. You have our hope In god, Your friends who help you laugh,  and an entire congregation and me who really care about you.

You can survive this. You can cry whenever you need to. But then look at yourself and say "I'm not going to let this define me. I will be the best I can be, despite the worst that has happened!"

And then live. So keep writing girlie.
With much love

                             (Insert her name here)




Had I followed the advice In this letter a year ago I could possibly be In a different place now. Instead I read It, cried, read It a few more times and then put It away and never looked at It again because I didn't think It applied to me. I wasn't this girl that she was talking to that deserved to be loved, that was loved. I was some one else. So I never looked In the mirror and said those things to myself. I never kept writing. However I should have.

This year means change for me. And I don't want to be sitting In this same spot a year from now still feeling these same feelings. Even If at times I feel that I'm not worth it I know that's just the devil getting in my head. Still finding ways to make me hurt and fool me with his words even when hes not around. But If I listen to him In my head telling me I'm not important, and that I'm not worth anything then he wins. I have to become more. I do deserve It and I am worth It. I'm going to say that over and over again until one day I actually believe It.

11:30pm

To sleep or not to sleep? That Is the question...My mind Is starting to race. The slideshow Is starting again. This happens most when the night falls. Its like a signal warning me not to lay down and rest my eyes. If I close them I let more of the bad things In.

I turn off the light. Lay down. Open my eyes. I can feel his hands On my body. Its not real. I keep saying this. Sometimes I just want to get In the shower and never come out. Just scrub and scrub until the filth runs off. It never does. No matter how hard I try It's always there because Its not on my body anymore It's In my mind. I lay there, shut my eyes tight to keep the memories out. But their stronger then I am. They creep In anyways. I am trapped In a prison In my own head. I am taken back to another time. The disgusting thing washes over me. I let It In. I let my self remember. I am four. He tells me It's time for bed. He lays on the living room floor and motions for me to follow. I lay next to him. Devil's hands cover my mouth I can barely breath. Devil climbs on top of me. I have fire between my legs. Devil grins down at me "This Is what daddy's do to show their love" he says. And I believe him. I was supposed to let daddy love me right?

I don't understand why I remember these things after I move away. After I'm safe. After I was becoming happy. Now I am being consumed daily by these horrible memories. Life was easier when all of this ugliness was pushed into the back of my mind. Now that I've let It out what do I do with It? 

Writing helps. People say "Write it down so you can move on". But that Isn't even possible. There Is no "moving on". The only thing that exists now Is simply being. Existing. Getting by. Managing. Surviving the now. Waking up each morning,  carrying on with the day. Until that day ends and I go to sleep, wake up and do the entire thing over again. To much has happened to ever get over It or "move on". I've seen to much, felt to much, and survived to much to ever be normal. And what Is normal? Who's normal? What does being normal even feel like?

When will I ever sleep like a "normal" person? That's something I'd like to know. I wish the bad dreams would go away. And not just the ones that happen at night but the ones that play like a movie In my head. Sleep or awake everywhere I go I see him, and everything I do I feel his hands as they take my body and make It his.

But my body doesn't belong to him anymore. It's mine. So how do I control It? How do I sleep? When will I find my peace?

Its the little things that matter

I just got home. Went to dinner and randomly walked around Wal-mart with a friend. Today made me realize that no matter how awful I might feel or how bleak my situation may seem EVERYDAY I have something to smile about. Laughing with her for the past few hours got me out of my own head. Calmed me. And yeah It's 10:30pm and now I have to get ready for bed and that thought alone scares  me because I know that tonight like every night I'm  not going to get a peaceful nights rest. I will have nightmares, and I will wake up crying one or more times tonight. But that's okay. Because as unloved as I sometimes feel I DO have people that care about me and If laughing for a few hours with her was the best thing that I could take from this day then that's a hell of a lot better then yesterday. I guess what I'm trying to say here Is I need to find a way to look past the pain and find something everyday that's good(as hard as that may be at times). Otherwise whats the point of this life? I cant let what my father did to me control me anymore. Miles away and he still somehow controls every aspect of my life. But for a few hours I got to be distracted and not think about the sad ugliness. That's just about all I can ask for at this moment.

<3

Dear Diary,

I do not care If any one reads this or not. I'm simply writing this to clear my head and the whole pen to paper idea doesn't seem to be working for me. Laziness I guess. First entry here It goes.

Dear Diary,

Today I feel defeated. I feel Like a small fish In the big ocean. Everything I do fails and at the moment my head Is going full speed with "pictures" from my past. I call them pictures because that's what It looks like In my head. Like a slideshow. I think these pictures are eating me alive. It feels like there's a hole where my heart Is supposed to be. When I close my eyes I see darkness. A dark room. In this room Is a crib, and In that crib there I lay. The crib bars surround me. I am crying. I cry because I am hungry or because I'm wet or lonely or maybe because I want my mother. I cry for all of the millions of reasons that babies cry. Until my door opens and the sound of his boots walking closer and closer to my crib gives me something else to cry about.

When I was born darkness cast its shadows over me. The devil himself kissed me on the cheek. That devil was my father.

I don't know how old I was the night that my father left my room but I know I was younger then two. This Is the first memory I have of my life. I also remember his smell and his hands and that when he left I felt broken, hurt,shattered, exposed and confused. I don't know what he did to me exactly. This I cant see. Maybe I'm not ready to see It. But I know this incident changed who I was supposed to become.

This makes me angry! That my father the one who was supposed to love and guide me through life Is the one who could hurt me In this way. When I see other girls with their dads girls who complain about how "daddy wont give me money" or "my dad is so annoying" It literally makes me sick to my stomach. They have no idea what they have. I grew up with a dad who had two faces. He was charming and handsome and loving and made me want to be his daughter. Then night came and he was evil. Thinking of nighttime daddy makes my skin crawl. He played his game well and everyone was fooled. I was just a tiny bug caught In his web of lies. Only now 22 years old and away from him for 3 years can I start to realize that what he did was wrong and wasn't my fault. How could he look at me a small child and see anything sexual? Babies are warmness, smiles, laughs, and play. What kind of person would want to destroy that? I guess no one can ever answer these questions for me. I have to accept this. Anyways explanations wont solve or fix what has already been done. Nothing will. I am a victim of Incest. THERE I SAID IT. Acknowledging it makes it real. But that doesn't heal me. I am a broken bird with tattered wings.

How do I fix my heart with these huge gaping holes in it? Do I pretend I'm okay and patch them up with fake smiles and laughter? What If the patches fall off and I'm left feeling defeated again? Do I spend thousands of dollars talking to therapists about all of my many problems hoping that 10 years later I will somehow be "normal" whatever that Is? I'll go with the first option for now. Pretending I'm fine and putting a smile on my face. If I smile I seem happy and then no one will know the pain inside me. Some know what happened but think I'm "healed" so they don't ask questions and smiles don't lie right?

Sometimes I wish that someone would see past It and try to save me. Take me Into their arms and let me cry and give me what I crave so much. Human contact. The right kind of contact that reassures and tells you your safe and loved. No one tells me I'm loved not since my mom died. She was my world, my sun, moon, and stars above me. But she was "sick" and left me to soon. Now I feel alone and without purpose. I miss her and yet at the same time I'm angry at her. Where was she when he was hurting me? Why didn't she protect me? Why didn't she see what was happening? Did she see and simply choose not to act? If so maybe she doesn't deserve my tears and my heart missing her. Maybe her pills and alcohol made her happier then I did. I will never know. What I know Is today I feel defeated. Today I feel alone.Today I remember things that I didn't remember yesterday. Today I have flashbacks where I feel like a little girl again. Where I feel like his hands are rolling over my body now. His eyes creeping up on me now. But Its not happening now. Its not real. This Is what happens today. Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be better.

I'm trying to heal. I am trying to move on. This Is a slow moving hard process. This is MY first step.