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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.

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Hidden Pieces: Sexual Abuse Continues

***TRIGGER WARNING*** ***TRIGGER WARNING*** (Graphic Description of Sexual Abuse)

I decided to begin retelling what I wrote to my therapist and I in the Winter/Spring of 2007 after four years of intense flashbacks and repressed memories emerging. [Current commentary is in brackets.] I wrote my seventy page "biography" because I needed to write out what I remembered and what I experienced to make it more "real" rather than a "story." I am ready to take the next step and putting more of it in my blog. This was the original reason for starting my blog and using my journal as a starting point. I am still struggling with believing that the following is the truth of my life:

[During my process of remembering, I began to have flashbacks about different work situations which I write about below.  Remember these occurances were from 1989 to 2000, but I am only making connections or remembering in 2007ish] 

I don’t think that my step-father stopped raping me when we moved to the our new house…After talking about the popsicle incidents, I keep having flashes of him surprising me when I opened my second room where I studied and he was in there…waiting for me to come home. When I went to leave, he grabbed the upper portion of my right arm leaving small bruises and dragged me back in closing the door. The next thing I remember was being on the floor naked and wet. 

I do know that the moment I saw those eyes I began to go away…float away, like I was watching from above and didn’t feel anything. But, I am beginning to remember how it hurt when he grabbed me and pushed me to the ground putting his knee into my thigh which really hurt…I did have a bruise. I was terrified as he also was yelling at me to never walk away from him again or he would kill me.

He practically tore off all of my clothing…actually my underwear had been torn, so I threw it away. Then, he put his hands on my shoulders pushing me down with my shoulders as he penetrated me and with every thrust. I remember feeling really bad as the pain was excruciating, but sometimes it sort of felt good…hard to explain. I feel really bad that it partly felt good and even when I was younger it partly felt good sometimes, but that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it or wanted him to do it…it feels like my body betrayed me. [When my husband and I would have sex, when he had his hands on my shoulders…I would feel a little panicked and have a brief flashback which I kept ignoring until I started talking to you about the memories.]

While being raped, sometimes my step-father would dig his nails into my shoulders…I had some bruises on my upper arms, thigh, shoulders and scratches with some open skin on my shoulders. I remember the carpet moving under me. Sometimes, he would kiss me on the lips and stick his tongue in my mouth. When he was finished, he kicked me in the leg and told me to get dressed which was the next room over, so of course he watched. I quickly put my bathrobe on and took my clothes into the restroom where I cleaned up looked at my scratches and bruises before I got dressed. I felt so dirty literally and figuratively. I had some blood and semen on my legs, but for some reason I remember I was not allowed to take a shower, but I really wanted to do so.

I remember two other times and I think that he stopped then before 7th grade, which was the beginning of junior high school when I was only eleven years old. I think I almost immediately blocked it out as in Junior High school, I do not remember having any conscious memory of any sexual abuse other than the inappropriateness of some of his actions. I have a hunch it happened a little more often, but not much more. Each time, he surprised me when I opened a door.

Once was when I opened the door to my bathroom and he shoved me to the ground and raped me on my bathroom floor. I remember thinking I hope I don’t pee because I really had to go. My bladder and everything else really hurt, but I held it until he was through. Then, I had difficulty going…like now. The other time was when I opened the front door and he immediately grabbed me told me that he had been waiting for me, with that weird look in his eyes…the one where I knew he was going to do something awful to me. He dragged me up stairs into my study and again violently raped me leaving me with scratches and bruises…of course I could hide them.

I stopped studying in that room and moved to my bedroom or family room even when he wasn’t home. The room no longer felt like it was mine. Of course, everything was done with me making almost no sound, no crying, no resistance; I hid or cleaned up any evidence and never ever told anyone. I so much just feel like dying. After that I began to check behind every door as soon as I came home before I would begin to do anything or could relax some. I absolutely need to know where everyone was…like needing to know where my husband is at home.

“Relaxing” when you are constantly on edge, on guard and afraid for your life makes life very confusing. It is actually an oxymoron, but it was how I lived all the time. Even though, I don’t remember him raping me, I kept checking the house when I came home just to know where everyone was or to make sure no one was home…[I still do this. I always thought I was just trying to be safety conscious, but there is more to this.] I also remember being unable to breathe sometimes when I was raped, as there was too much pressure on my chest. I thought I was going to die sometimes. I also think that I immediately or very quickly forgot about many incidents especially these as I don’t remember much of sixth grade and did not remember these events in junior high school.

This just can't be the way life was...just can't...reality sucks!


Just Be Real said...

I am so very angry at your s-f. (((((((((CC))))))))

Clueless said...

JBR, Thank you for the hugs. I am angry as well. Blessings to you.

Shen said...

It's a lot for a child... so much, way too much. I sent an email to my t yesterday with details, ugly details. I know how much it needs to be told. Get it out of you. It was never yours to begin with.

Anonymous said...

Each time I read these excerpts I cannot help but picturing you as a little girl going through these awful things. I get angry at your step-father and everyone else who abused you because they are so disgusting. I get angry that (at least according to what I have read so far) no one helped you.


I'm sorry you had to go through that.

Wishing you well,

Clueless said...

Shen, Thank you. Yes, it does need to be told, but that is the hard part. Indeed, it was never mine to begin with. Thank you for listening.

NOS, Thank you. What you wrote in your comment was quite comforting and helpful especially as I tend to turn my anger toward myself. I really did not have any help, but I did have some respite from my Grandparents and especially from my aunt.

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