Past Journal Entry: July 14, 2005

Geoffrey,

When I came home today, I really wanted to bruise myself, so I decided to fingerpaint. After the fourth one, when I looked at it my stomach dropped and it scared me. Made me feel my hopeless and I just wanted to cry, so I stopped painting.

Remembered how hopeless I felt that it would get better, anyone would ever listen, anyone would ever understand, that I would ever feel better, that the suicidal thoughts would stop or I would stop wanting to hurt myself. Right now, my stomach and chest hurt and I want to cry. Remember being hopeless that my mother would ever listen to me, understand me, take care of me or protect me.

I really don't feel good right now...really wanting to hurt myself. Really want to bruise. Self-injury seems like it was my way of numbing out, punishing myself and expressing rage toward myself, my step-father and my mother.

Keep having flashbacks. Mostly, just waves of feelings and just wanting to cry. So, overwhelmed, panicked, sad, scared, angry, confused, trapped, helpless and hopeless. Feeling like I was bad all the time and deserved to die. Either feels like I'm in the apartment or in our house. Felt so alone and like no one would ever listen or understand.

Sometimes the flashbacks are an actual event. Remembering some of the arguments, getting hit, screamed at, my step-father forcing me to eat the tofu or just the anger in his face like he had with the Barbie stuff. [I'll explain this in the observation section.]

Sometimes, remember numbing out, going away, trying to disappear, etc... Happened frequently even at school, in the car, listening to music, reading, watching television, etc... Remember not knowing what was being said or losing track of my teachers or the television show...basically, like losing time. Sometimes, the suicidal thoughts would take me away. Other times, there would be nothing. Just buzzy and numb. My stomach and chest hurt. Can feel myself tearing up.

Observations: Today as I write this I find it interesting that I used the words, "I don't feel good right now," because that is what I have been saying and have not been able to be very specific. I did have a "homework" assignment with doing another Wordle about "I don't feel good." I posted as the last image on the side bar, if you want to see.

Well, up above, I said I would write about the "Barbie" stuff. I'm really not wanting to do it. Feeling a little ashamed and I know it will make it more real than I want to do right now...or maybe I want it to be more real. This memory isn't one that I repressed until this go-around in therapy. I spoke about it when I first was in therapy with Geoffrey, but that is as far as it went and there was not much else.

Okay, here goes...During the time my-stepfather and I were alone in the apartment, he only grew more violent and sadistic, at times, almost verges on torture. There was an incident when he wanted to play Monopoly, but I didn’t. I wanted to play with my Barbie’s. He began to scream at me and called me spoiled and that I need to do what he tells me to do. He pushed me to the ground and pulled my pants and underwear off and shoved one of my Barbie’s feet first into my vagina and then removed it and shoved the second one in…it felt like he was intentionally trying to hurt me and like he shoved it in as far as he could while turning it. I felt like I was going to pass out it hurt so much. I also remember the green carpet and my trying to dig my nails into it because it hurt so much. I remember the feel of the shallow pattern on my hand. Then, later on my face, I could feel the carpet.

Then, he had forced me on my stomach and began beating me with his belt. I wanted to die…felt like he was going to kill me. When my mother came home, she immediately began yelling and hitting and slapping me because my step-father had told her that I "misbehaved" that day. I was assaulted and raped by my step-father with my Barbies and then assaulted by my mother. (Okay now, I want to go away and take it all back, no one is going to believe me, shouldn't have written it, it wasn't that bad, I'm lying, etc...all going through my head.)

When I did the fingerpaintings below, my last one scared me because I felt the hopelessness which is, I think, represented by the black. Right now, I'm thinking about feeling that black hole in my chest, the one that all I can say now is, "I don't feel good."