Disclaimer

This blog is about my experiences. I am a survivor. There is a laundry list of trauma I have experienced. Ultimately, I am working to move past "surviving" life and on to truly thriving. I want to feel the freedom of expressing my feelings honestly.

...survivor of childhood incest, an adult child of an alcoholic, the left behind child of a parent who committed suicide, was a single teen parent, a survivor of domestic violence in my first marriage ...

I started writing this blog after thinking about writing it for years. I am writing it for ME. I have felt the need to express myself in some way for quite some time. I could journal, but I have this feeling that making a public statement is better. See, I keep much of myself to myself. And my experiences, good and bad, are part of who I am. If I can be publicly honest (even in a fairly anonymous way) about some of the darker parts of my life, perhaps I will feel less burdened by secrecy.

I hope that if you read this you will not see it as a cry for attention: it is not. I am keeping it fairly anonymous specifically to prevent that from occurring. I am tired of hiding parts of me from the world, so my past is no longer a secret, but I certainly do not discuss it regularly with people. This blog gives me the freedom to talk about it openly.

I am not crazy. My biggest fear when telling people about my life is that they will see me as damaged, as unstable, as delicate, and as a victim. It is not my fault that I was abused, and the consequences of that abuse are things I deal with daily. Yes, some of my responses to life are different than they would be had I never been through all that I have experienced, but I am a functioning member of society and my ultimate desire is to live a life filled with love, happiness, and safety with my family.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

Push

"I HATE myself when I feel good." -Precious

"And can I ever enjoy sex again after reading about a confused Claireece Precious Jones having her nipples bitten, being slapped on the butt as a sexual playmate, told "you know you love it," and having orgasms beneath her big, foul-smelling father or being "felt up" on the sofa by her mother? Probably. I can overcome these images one day, but most likely not any time soon. But how does a Precious Jones overcome them?" --http://www.blogher.com/sapphires-push-merciless-honesty

How does a Precious Jones overcome them?  How do I?  I wonder if I should not have read this book.  I definitely cannot watch the movie, despite the fact that the idea cannot seem to leave my mind.  Furthermore, I have this automatic desire to punch readers who think that they feel pain over the abuse Precious experienced (I experienced) because they don't have to live with it every day.  Which makes me feel ashamed; I wouldn't wish this on anyone.  Not the abuse, not the pain, not the anger, not the shame.  ...and the cycle within my brain continues.

Push, the book that the movie Precious is based upon, broke something inside of me.  I cannot get the images it describes out of my mind. I know that actually seeing those images on film will be altogether too much.  The things the young woman in the book faces and overcomes are greater obstacles than I have ever had to climb. That being said, her description of being abused by her father, and the feelings she experiences as a result, are so accurate and real that I could hardly believe my eyes as I read.  She explains in her own words the natural  physical response a body has to stimulation, and also how that impacts survivors of incest.  Her wording is harsh and unforgiving, nothing like what is usually discussed anywhere that I have ever been.  That wording makes sense to me: it is a much more accurate way of explaining the aftermath of being abused by a parent.  I cannot escape her words as I return to them in my mind without warning or intent.   It physically drains me.  SOmetimes I am unsure if the relatability, the experience of finally finding a voice that expresses what I feel all the time, is worth the pain of the thoughts that return to me in waves unexpectedly. 

On the other hand, Push truly forced me to return to the dreaded thing I know must be done: therapy.  Let's be clear: I despise therapy.  I don't want to think about being abused.  I don't want the physical responses that go with discussing this.  It feels dirty and I feel ashamed, guilty.  I am repulsed by myself.  I wish I could erase everything and just forget.  I want to feel normal. 

Therapy is truly the only way I can figure that eventually some of the feelings might become more bearable.  To say the re-opening of the wound on a weekly basis is painful would be putting it mildly, but the pain is just as great carrying this burden around.  Not only for me: my PTSD (Post Traumatic Stress Disorder) impacts my entire family.  I experience all three symptoms described in the link and it is no easy task to be around, I am sure.

To be open and truly honest with anyone has never been my strong suit.  Not that I go around actively lying; I don't.  But I definitely keep most of my inner dialogue to myself.  I learned young how to put on a game face for the world to see and to keep my hurts private.  Even if it seems I am telling my deepest darkest thoughts and feelings to someone, I am probably am not.  The worst part is, I usually don't even know I am doing it.    Learning to be as honest as I can is hard but I am committing to doing just that because I love my husband and my kids.  I want to be the woman God intended me to be, so I am going to therapy and truly giving it my all. 
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