PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ September 29, 2005 ~ 12:50 PM, Part I ~ Rape!

Geoffrey,

Well, I haven't written down any of the memories that I've talked about in the past couple of weeks...maybe, I don't want to actually see it in print, but I'm thinking that it may hep to reduce the flashbacks. Really hard to believe that these things actually happened and that it happened to me. Most of the incidents we've talked about occurred at my step-father's parents house.

I remember his father pinning me down on the dirt/grass in the backyard and my focusing on the ant crawling on my leg. I was terrified and my head hurt and back hurt because the ground was so hard and my head was on a root or rock, so every time he went in my head and back hurt. He took my pants and underwear off. I kept thinking about the ant and how I didn't like the feel of the grass or dirt.

I remember hoping and being scared too that someone would walk by the chain link fence and see us, but the tree could have been blocking the view. I was also scared that my mother would be angry because my clothing was getting dirty.

It hurt so much when he went in...he wasn't as gentle as he had been in the past. I hurt so much that I wanted to scream out of pain and wanted to cry, but didn't dare do or say anything. I remember him ejaculating and getting wet, then the dirt started to stick to me. After he was done, I remember trying to clean myself up, but could seem to do enough. I was so afraid that my mother would be angry because I got dirty. I wished that he would have done what he did before which was just in bed. It was more comfortable and he seemed angry and much more forceful that day.

Observations: Even though I wrote and talked about this three years ago, it is still palpable to me. I can feel myself fighting not to go away. Also, I feel incredibly sad. I think, I was five or six years old. It has caused some flashbacks in writing this, but mostly emotional ones and really wanting to cry. It feels like I want to cry for the tears I didn't cry then and for the sadness I feel now for that little girl who couldn't do anything to stop him and only added to her self-loathing and confusion. Oh, how much I wanted someone to talk to and comfort me. There was also a sense of more betrayal because he was rougher this time and I thought that he was gentle.

I don't want to believe, yet I already do. So much that I want to tell...too much to tell. Can't push it down anymore...need to accept what I experienced. Defenses don't have the same effect...the walls have too many breaks...I can go all the way through. Why so sad and not be able to cry. I just ache, feel empty, alone, and want to withdraw into myself. Truth is difficult. I wish there were another way to be free of my past. I know too much to stop the process. I have to press forward or, at least, try. I want to do this, yet I also want to curl up and die.

Depression seems to have taken a firm stand, but is it a defense or a natural response. Is it my security blanket, my comfort, my friend, a place to hide or a necessary place to cope or a dangerous friend? Or maybe, all. It is an ambivalent place where there is always two sides in a tug of war inside of me. The tension puts me on edge and even more hypervigilant.

Will I ever really know what it is like not to feel depressed. It has been my friend since I was born and has infiltrated every system in my body. Can it be extricated without destroying me? Right now, if I can let it go and just feel...I would be extremely sad...I don't want to go there...I didn't want to be there in the first place.