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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.

Monday, January 12, 2009

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ December 5, 2005 ~ Physical Abuse!

I'm kind of in a strange place with writing today (Sunday) for tomorrow's post. I have a lot of stuff going on in my head, lots going on in therapy, lots going on personally and then wanting to get back to writing excerpts from my journal.

I keep picking it up and realizing that I don't want to write what is in there because it makes things more real which is part of the purpose. I've been talking in more generalities in therapy which keeps me a little removed from the reality of how really bad it was, so I guess I'll start with my journal.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ December 5, 2005

Geoffrey,

I 'm really having a difficult time this morning with just being present and alternating from feeling agitated/overwhelmed to wanting to die/bruise/cut to having more flashbacks to tearing up to wanting to scream.

Remember arriving at my step-father's parents and beginning to exit the van and my step-father grabbing my shirt to pull me back and then my arm. He dragged me over the engine and pulled me into the section between the engine and the back seat.

I remember hearing him closing the door and hearing him lock it. I was really scared and felt so trapped. And, felt that dropping of my stomach. I remember him yelling at me to not be disrespectful and not to talk back. I remember thinking I didn't know what I did wrong, but I figured I shouldn't have said that I wanted to go to my grandparents instead of his parents.

Then, he slid into the back grabbed me, pulled my pants and underwear down and pushed my head into the engine cover and pulled me up higher. He kept yelling at me. I remember the feel of the pattern of the cover against my cheek.

Although I was faced in the opposite direction, I could hear him unbuckle and take his belt off. Remember hearing the belt go thru the air and hit the ceiling and then hit me. It really hurt. He kept hitting me and made the back of my legs and my lower back hurt too. The pain radiated.

Remember, he became angry that the ceiling interfered , so he shortened the length. Then, he was able to hit harder and faster. I wanted so much to cry and to scream because it hurt so much. I focused on the engine cover pattern, the latches and the warmth of the engine.

He was so angry. I was so scared. He was so out of control and angry and just kept hitting felt like it was never going to end because he was hitting so hard and so fast. I remember feeling like I was going to pass out because it hurt so much.

I was also really afraid that he would take me into the back and force himself on me. I remember the smell of the engine and the oil. He sometimes would lock up up in the back and he would force himself on me and it hurt so much I really wanted to cry and scream, but kept focusing on the black sealing around the doors and the handles. Wished I could just unlock the door grab the handles, open the door and run.

When he was hitting me, I kept thinking about trying to unlock the door and get away, but knew I couldn't be fast enough and when he caught me I'd be in more trouble and he'd be even angrier. I kept imagining that he was going to hit my head on the engine cover repeatedly until I died. Or that he would repeated hit my head on the window or try to put my head through the windshield.

I was so afraid that he was going to really hurt or kill me. I also, remember wanting to die when he hit me that time or when he would force himself on me. Feel so much like crying and screaming...I really wanted to then, but knew it would just make it worse. I was also afraid that he was going to tell my mother that I misbehaved that day which he did, so my mother began screaming at me when she came home, "that your are lucky to have someone to take care of you and should be thankful that he stays with you and you need to listen and behave with him."

Then, she slapped me really hard twice. I was so angry and hurt. The slap really hurt and it was already painful to sit. Then, she basically didn't talk to me for the rest of the evening, but when she tucked me into bed she warned me that I'd better behave with him tomorrow. Then, she made me kiss her which I really didn't want to do. I really wanted to push her away and scream and cry and was so glad the day was over.

Remember when Gene would force himself on me that I was so terrified. Just the look in his eyes. He looked so angry and it almost always hurt so much that I wanted to scream with each thrust. It was like all his anger was wrapped up in the push. I hurt so much. Felt like I was going to pass out from the pain sometimes. He was so rough.

Sometimes, I was also afraid that he was angry enough to choke me to death during those times. I felt like I was such a bad person that I needed to die or just wanted to get the pain to stop.

Remember being afraid of my mother when she was angry with me. Sometimes, in the car, I was afraid that she would push me out of the car while it was moving. I remember her threatening to throw me through the second story window. A part of me was really afraid she could get angry enough to do so.

Also, remember sometimes right before falling asleep being afraid that I would suffocate in my sleep. But, I knew she wouldn't do these. Actually, I really wasn't sure because sometimes, she could be so out of control and angry. She could really hurt me like with the ping-pong paddle, the yard stick, the slapping and slugging me.

Even, my father terrified me. The two times he threw me in the pool to make me learn how to swim, I thought that he was going to let me die. I didn't think it mattered. He could get so angry and his slapping me on the cheek or the mouth sometimes hurt more than my mothers. When, he spanked me with the belt it hurt just as much, but was shorter in duration.

Both left bruises and welts, but sometimes my step-father drew blood. It hurt so much to sit or go to the restroom. I don't think my mother knew. Actually, I'm not sure I wanted her to know because she would just become angrier with me.

I really was terrified and panicked all the time of getting hit or yelled at. Seems like everyone or someone was angry at most of the time just waiting to take it out on me.

Observations: This was really difficult to type. It was strange because I remembered it happening like a memory and remembered remembering it and all the feelings. I don't know if that makes any sense. But, it seems to have really made me, on a deeper level, realize how terrified and on edge I was all the time where ever I was. Geoffrey was right it was like being in the front lines of a war zone. This time, I also had a deeper sense of how young I was and how violent things were. Also, noticed that there was no way that I couldn't get the message that "I was bad." Not quite accepting, but getting there. I feel a little dizzy and buzzy, so I'll stop.

2 comments:

Ana said...

It seems I can download one post at a time.
I confess I've read only some sentences.
It hurts me...
There's not much I can say.
But I'm here.
Love,
Ana

Miss Ash said...

*hugs*

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