PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ September 29, 2005 ~ 12:50 PM, Part II ~ Memories Continue!

Continuation of PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ September 29, 2005

[Looking at my journals, I had entered into a period of a flood of a variety of memories that were intrusive and felt like something new was coming at least everyday. I felt this incredible need to write and then to read what I wrote to Geoffrey. Just remembering what occurred and telling it for the first time, I felt ashamed wondered if he believed me, wondered if I believed myself, felt bad, was sure something bad was going to happen, felt overwhelmed, panicked, was having panic attacks, disassociating, and having a difficult time keeping it together. I was still working at the time. It was a really rough period. I now know that it is true and am feeling more as I rewrite these entries. I'm ready, sort of, to accept them now as a part of my life, some of the time.]

My step-father's garage had four ping-pong tables set up for slot cars and one table for playing ping-pong. I remember cheering and getting into the race with my step-father and his father. My mother was standing off to the side and I knew she was already angry and agitated. Then, all of a sudden she started screaming at me for being so loud even though they were much louder than I was. [In hindsight, she was angry with Gene not paying attention to her and that I was involved, so I became the target of her anger, again.]

My mother grabbed my right arm really hard and I kept saying that I was sorry. [I didn't even know what I was sorry for, I just hoped it would stop her from being angry.] She dragged me over to the ping-pong table and took the green ping-pong paddle and spanked me. She just kept hitting me and it felt like she was never going to stop. She kept telling me I was bad. [Again, the reinforcement that I was bad.]

My mother seemed so out of control and it hurt so much that I wanted to scream and cry, but didn't dare. [I had learned not to cry so long ago. It was so automatic not to cry no matter how scared or how much emotional or physical pain I was in.] She just kept hitting and yelling at me about how bad I was, that I made too much noise and that I needed to behave. Then, she finally stopped and just left me there and went over to my step-father and leaned on him and watched them play. [Borderline personality splitting. My step-father was all good and I was all bad. He existed and I didn't. She needed an outlet for her rage and didn't direct it at the person that she was really angry with because he was all good and she needed him. Also, the borderline jealousy of her perceiving that I was getting the attention that she deserved.]

I felt like I didn't exist. Everyone ignored me and pretended like nothing happened. I just stood there for a while. I really don't know what I did after, but that evening I remember being bruised and having the pattern of the raised parts of the paddle. It hurt so much to sit, but I pretended that nothing happened. But, I really wanted to scream and cry and kept wondering what I did wrong. [Feeling really alone, confused invisible and empty.]

During another time, I remember my step-father getting really angry with me because he wanted to play with the slot cars, but I wanted to play ping-pong. [Childish and narcissistic] Then, the look on his face changed and I was really terrified. He started calling me a spoiled brat and grabbed my left arm really hard and pulled my shorts and underwear down and took the red ping-pong paddle that was almost bare of the rubbery stuff. He began to spank me really hard and just kept hitting me. It hurt much more than my mother and I was so scared that he was not going to stop. [Again, being the target for his rage because he could not control me.]

But, I was more afraid that he would tell my mother that I was bad that day. He kept yelling about how bad and selfish I was. I remember going away during much of this. I'm beginning to remember how scared I was , how much it hurt and how much I wanted to scream and cry. With him holding me I felt so trapped. It really hurt to sit and I was much more bruised than when my mother spanked me.

[Rewriting these journal entries and especially this one, I keep wanting to say that I was not physically abused. But, I read it and know that this is physical abuse enough to take a child out of the home. I'm wrestling with accepting the reality of my life. Sometimes, I just have a hard time believing so much could occur. And, I fight the sadness and the tears. The first time reading this and remembering, I felt the rage.]