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A key word that you will see:

Fragmentation: a mental process where a person becomes intensely emotionally focused on one aspect of themselves, such as “I am angry” or “no one loves me,” to the point where all thoughts, feelings and behavior demonstrate this emotional state, in which, the person does not or is unable to take into account the reality of their environment, others or themselves and their resources. This is a term that my therapist and I use and is on the continuum of dissociation.

Wednesday, September 10, 2008

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ September 29, 2005 ~ 12:50 PM, Part III ~ Terrified Raped Again!

Continuation of PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ September 29, 2005


TRIGGER WARNING VERY GRAPHIC DESCRIPTION OF SADISTIC SEXUAL ABUSE!!!


[I can't believe that I wrote all of these memories down in one entry. I just felt like I needed to get it out. I've broken it up because it seems like too much for one entry, but that is what I did...I'm feeling sad.]

Felt trapped one day when my step-father's father took me into the garage and locked the door which immediately terrified me. [I still hate the sound of someone locking a door, but it is okay if I do it. It was also a double cylinder lock where you need a key for both sides.] I felt my stomach drop and wanted to run away, but I felt so trapped and panicked and was scared to move. Hearing the door locking really terrified me. I felt so trapped and helpless and I didn't know what he was going to do or how far he would go. Then, he pushed me to the floor and pulled my pants and underwear off.

[This was the first time being raped in the garage. The one by the tree was the first time that was not in the bedroom and did not involve any other men. However, it was much more terrifying and I trusted him and thought that he was nicer, but he increasingly became more violent than anyone else.]

I remember the floor being hard and cold and worried that a bug or spider was going to crawl on me. [This did occur and I've been having flashbacks of feeling and seeing the bugs crawl on me.] Then, he forced himself on me. [When I wrote this I could not use the word rape to describe anything that happened...now I can, sometimes.]

He seemed really angry and was not as gentle as he had been in the past. I wanted to scream and cry. [Of course, I didn't.] I know that it really hurt, but I kept focusing on how the floor felt, worried about the bugs and focused on the shelving which was painted brown. I looked at the spacing and which ones were warped or uneven.

After that time, I remember an incident where my step-father took me into the garage and locked the door. I felt so panicked, terrified and trapped. Just hearing the door lock made me feel sick. He put me on top of the ping-pong table and pulled my pants and underwear off.

I though that he was going to do what he usually did, but he didn't. I had my eyes closed most of the time, but the few times I opened them he had that "look." I was terrified, wanted to run, scream, cry, push him away, but I wouldn't dare do that as it would have made the situation worse.

I heard him walking to the workbench and heard two clunks on the table. He first inserted the handle of the screwdriver really hard and it hurt. At that point, I remember listening to the cars go by and trying to count them. Then, he took the screwdriver out and shoved the handled end of the hammer into me. I hurt much worse and I really wanted to scream because I felt like my insides were going to rip apart, it hurt so much and I was terrified. I really thought that he was going to kill me as he had always threatened to do.

I had thoughts that I wanted to die. He took it out and shoved it even harder back in. I think, that was when I started to bleed. Then, he twisted it around which hurt even more. I felt like I was going to die. Thought that he was going to kill me or hit me with the hammer. I thought that he was done.

But, he wasn't. Then, he pushed me further up on the table, but my head hit the net and he became angry and moved the net and pulled me further up on the table. I was in a lot of pain at this point, so I covered myself with my hands and crossed my legs which just made him enraged. I kept listening for cars.

I was terrified of what he would do next. Then he got on the table and it was a little wobbly and I was afraid that the table would break and then I'd really be in trouble especially from my mother. He grabbed my arms really hard and moved them away. I didn't dare move or say or utter anything. Then, he pushed my legs apart with much force with his leg/knee.

Then, he began to rub my legs and body and under my shirt with his hands. I wanted to scream for him not to touch me. I really, really wanted to scream and scream and cry. I felt so trapped because I was scared to move and he had locked the door. I kept listening to the traffic.

Then, he forced himself on me and it hurt so much more than any other time. I knew I was bleeding some and felt like I was going to die. When, he ejaculated it really stung. I was really afraid that he would kill me.

When he was finished and left, I put my clothes back on and went to the restroom and tried to clean myself up and saw the blood on my underwear. I go really scared because my mother got really angry with me last time she found blood on my underwear. So, I tried using a wet paper towel or toilet paper to blot it off. All the time I was scared I wouldn't stop bleeding. I was so afraid of my mother being angry again. I even thought of throwing my underwear away and hoped that she wouldn't notice one missing.

It was so awful and I really thought that my step-father was going to kill me. Thought he might hit me on the head with the hammer and that he was never going to stop hurting me. I was in so much physical pain and so scared that my mother was going to find the blood and be angry and/or hit me like before. I wanted to die, scream and scream and just cry.

Observations: Unfortunately, this is only the beginning of things that were done to me in the garage. I will be including journal entries of what I remembered. Although three years have past, I currently am "stuck" in therapy regarding crying, rage, talking about some of my current flashbacks of being in the garage, talking about my mother and generally accepting how bad things really were. As a result, my depression and suicidal ideation has increased. But, those are defenses against feeling what I really am feeling which is sadness. It is so difficult for me to go there because I know I need to just cry.

14 comments:

susan said...

Oh Clueless.

I am sorry. I was raped twice, the second time the night before my birthday , which is why I hate my birthday.

I admire your courage for posting this- I don;'t have it yet cannot post my journal entries on this.

Difficult read for me. Had to walk away several times to keep equilibrium. But glad I read it.

Take care Clue.

Clueless said...

Oh, I'm so sorry. Need to move your celebration day or change the meaning for you...the day you were born should be a day to celebrate being alive.

Clueless said...

Susan, it has taken me more than twenty years to get to this point. Only read what you can handle. Don't push yourself. Take care of you.

(((Susan)))

Amanda Conley said...

I have actually read this blog before...it affected me deeply, even before I knew you. I have spent the past several minutes weeping for you...But I know our God is awesome because of the spirit He has given you despite this evil. He Has redeemed you when Satan tried to take your spirit to hell. I praise Him for that...
"for the Lord will ransom Jacob from the hand of those stronger than they. They will come and shout for joy on the heights of Zion;...They will be like a well watered garden, and they will sorrow no more." Jer.31:11-12
I really have no words, but I am sitting here thinking of you...please write me anytime.

Clueless said...

Amanda, Thank you for visiting. Your words were encouraging and uplifting. Thank you for your friendship.

Take care,
Clueless

Bradley said...

I wasn't able to read the post, but can only imagine the pain.

Great big hugs to you, clueless.

Pink Floyd said...

I just came across your blog and wanted to say it is very well done. I have major depression so although I haven't had the same experiences, I can relate to how you feel. I have also found keeping a journal or blog of your experiences can be helpful.

Jennifer said...

I am so, so sorry. I hate to be repetitive, but there you have it.

It makes sense that going over these horrific events would make you "stuck" for a while. So many years of denying a strong pain. At some point, you will move on, when you are ready.

Ana said...

((((((Clueless)))))))

Clueless said...

Bradley, I understand. Thanks for trying and for the hugs.

Pink Floyd, thank you for visiting and for making a comment and the compliment. I will come visit your place too.

Jennifer, thanks. I know where I need to go, but it is so difficult. But, I know I will get there.

ana, thanks (((ana)))

Catatonic Kid said...

I don't know how you do it, CC. Not just to have survived it but to go through it again to deal with it is beyond amazing to me.

I know. I mean, I try and try to work up the courage to speak the words but it's this wall of crushing everything. I'll never stop being thoroughly astounded by your strength, more so because I know how difficult it is for you. *Hugs*

Clueless said...

Thank you CK!!! Hopefully, you will get there too. A year ago, I would have told you that you were crazy that I would ever do this, but it has been a long road. When I started this, I was resolute in being, open, honest and telling my story. But, I couldn't do it without people like you encouraging and supporting me. Thank you!!

Anonymous said...

I can't believe how strong you are to post these things. I was raped twice, that's how I got pregnant and once while I was married. I don't know how you managed to survive such a thing. Thanks for sharing with us.

Clueless said...

I am so sorry about your two rapes. How horrible.

You are welcome (about me sharing). It has taken two decades for me to get to this point including 18 years of psychotherapy, two psychiatric hospitalization, medications, and hard work...but I will tell anyone that it is worth it, but it is excruciating and it does get better.

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