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.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ November 13, 2005 ~ My Father ~ Part IV

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ November 13, 2005 ~ Continued....

Slideshow and nightmares have been of all of these things. Really quite disturbing. Feel like crying, yelling and screaming. Seems like I was always making him angry. Felt like even though, he didn't hit much that I was always afraid that he would hit me.

Also, keep flashing back to the three (my mother, father and his father) of them yelling and my father pushing my mother or to my mother and father arguing on the porch of my grandparents or at our apartment with the screen door between them and to him slapping me with no specific incident attached.

Feels like there are a lot of feelings, but they seem overwhelming and very difficult to identify. It is just even difficult to take in what I wrote. Feels sort of trivial to talk about. Or that no one would believe me. You're [Geoffrey] the only one I've ever told how strict he was and how angry he could get.

I feel like dying now or like I'm going to. I'm also really wanting to cut, bruise and take the medication.

It isn't like abandonment or rejection. It was like I didn't exist to him. He never knew me and I never knew him which was also his choice. Hard to understand. I felt like a thing to him. The whole thing is difficult to comprehend. Makes my head hurt. Feels really overwhelming and makes me panic.

I don't feel safe fingerpainting because it makes the emotions more intense. Right now, I don't feel safe without you being there when I get into this stuff. Last week, I felt safe with you because I could sense you pushing me and pulling back when it seemed too much or when I tried to tell you.

Scared me when I tried to tell you. Scares me how safe I've been feeling with you. Two things, just trusting and that it allows me to talk more freely which ends up in surprising things coming out of my mouth and going to more painful places.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ November 13, 2005 ~ My Father ~ Part III

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ November 13, 2005 ~ Continued....

I started biting my nails when I was very young and I remeber him slapping my hands each time to get me to stop which I was never able to do until a few weeks before I graduated from college.

He got angry and corrected me in the way I ate my soup, held my pencil, how many fries to eat at one time, keeping my elbows off the table, using my napkin properly, brushing my teeth. He also told me that I drank and ate too quickly. He said I was supposed to chew my food at least 25 times. I remember skipping and him getting angry because that was not a proper way to walk. I was also told to take smaller more ladylike bites.

He would correct me about the way I spoke. Sometimes, I spoke too quickly or used improper grammar, or misprounounced words. He would correct me. I remember him correcting me about using "ain't" and with pronouncing my last name. I got lectures about my grades if they were less than "A"s which I alwasy had some "B" or, God forbid, a "C."

He would also lecture me about not becoming overweight like he was and comparing me to a relative that we always visited who was a year older and a cheerleader type. I remember him getting angry because I was making too much noise which basically meant that he could hear me in the other room of the house.

Feeling angry because I felt like he picked on me, that I could never live up to his standards and that that was the primary way I remember interacting with him. There were also some fun times too, but those could be easily interrupted. Also, feel a little sad because, he was so strict with what little time he did spend with me. Also, feeling really scared and panicky...afraid to move, say anything or even make a sound....

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ November 13, 2005 ~ My Father ~ Part II

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ November 13, 2005 ~ Continued....

Remember, him hitting the kitchen table when he would get angry with my mother and would start to yell. Remember being slapped in my crib and up until he stopped seeing me regularly (sort of) in the beginning of elementary school. Still remember being really scared.

Sometimes, it felt like his yelling or scolding came so suddenly and usually I didn't understand why he was so strict and kept picking on me. He seemed so unpredictable and most of the time, I didn't even know I was doing anything wrong. I'd get angry, but didn't let him know and tried to hide it. Also, didn't cry because it also hurt my feelings.

I remember his apartment and my spending the night in my sleeping bag on his couch. I was really young. At his apartment, breakfast was always Cheerios which I really didn't like especially with the mild in the cereal, but I remember thinking "I better not complain." I also remember the time when I spilled the cereal on the floor. It wasn't alot, but I immediately felt my stomach drop because I knew I was in big trouble.

I remember thinking I'd better clean it up and started to, but he was so fast and grabbed me by my right arm really tightly with one hand and pulled my pants and underwear down with the other as he easily picked me up and tossed me on the leather couch. I remember hearing him take his belt off and hear it go through the air and hit me. He was so angry and he kept spanking. I didn't cry or say anything. When he was done, he told me to get dressed, clean up the floor and eat breakfast.

The only other time I remember him spanking me was when I was playing with the doors at the home with his second or third wife. I remember him yelling my name and seeing his face. I immediately began saying, "I'm sorry Daddy. I'm sorry, I won't do it again."

He grabbed me, and lectured me about how improperly I was behaving and that doors are not toys and that I was making too much noise. He pulled my pants and underwear down and pused me on the arm of the sofa, took his belt off, held my back down with his left hand and started spanking me with his belt with his right.

I remember hearing the belt go through the air and hit my bottom. I think, I went away some because both times I don't remember the spanking hurting, but they did hurt a lost. I teared up because it stung so much, but I didn't cry or say anything once he started. I remember thinking that he was unfair and was really angry again I couldn't please him.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY ~ November 13, 2005 ~ Part I of IV

Geoffrey~

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY

[My parents divorced when I was about 3 years old and I saw him sporadically until about 5th grade. I never knew where he lived, had his telephone number or a picture even though I asked for a picture and the information. There were many last minute cancellations and broken promises. I last had contact with him in 1983. I do not know how to contact him, nor do I want to do so.]

The "slideshow" [of flashbacks in my head] has been really disturbing feels like I can't get away from it. It started at the end of the session and has continued to be intrusive. I didn't sleep well last night. Felt really edgy and panicked. Had nightmares and flashbacks all night. Sometimes, I think I've talk about my father enough, but I guess not.

Some of what I remember are things that I've already talked about. Other flashbacks are just the general feeling of being scared, angry and hurt. Feeling like I'm going to die.

Sort of feels like he picked on me whenever, I was with him. But, there were pleasant times too, but generally, I was at the very least apprehensive. One of the last activities was kite flying at the beach. He knew I liked Snoopy and took me shopping. But, it always felt like he was just trying to make it up to me or buy me.

I keep thinking that his being strict wasn't that bad. But, I do remember feeling like I had to do things perfectly for him or he would get angry. Remember, sometimes feeling like he didn't want to see me because I made him angry with me and that's why he didn't come back.

Remember, that when I was younger that he would slap me and grab my arm and would yell and lecture me and tell my that my mother wasn't raising me right. When I was older all he needed to do was to raise his voice or scold me. Either way, I was really scared of him and wanted to be with him. But, didn't want to be with him. I was really afraid of doing or saying the wrong thing. He seemed so big to me and his hand seemed enormous especially when he would slap or grab my arm.

Sometimes, he would lecture me about what seemed odd to me at the time. He lectured me about wearing my seat belt which if he knew me, it was something I always wore and would tell my mother to wear hers. He also lectured me about not smoking cigarettes or marijuana. I was in elementary school and remember thinking that I would never do that because I hated both and didn't like it especially when my mother would smoke or smelling it at my step-father's parent's home. He also lectured me of the dangers of hitchhiking. I remember, thinking why are you telling me this. It is something I would never consider doing....

....to be continued tomorrow.

PAST JOURNAL ENTRY: August 23, 2005

Geoffrey,

I've been feeling tearful on and off for the past couple of weeks. Not really sure why. I think, some of it is remembering how bad I felt all the time and how anxious and overwhelmed and scared. Also, realizing how young the self-injury began and the circumstance of my family and how I wouldn't cry.

Yesterday, at the end of the session, was really difficult because usually the flashbacks are more isolated to one room...like I'm not aware of the whole atmosphere or the other rooms in the house. But, it was like I was literally in my room at the apartment and was aware of the whole place, the atmosphere, the sounds, the sounds outside, feeling my feet on the carpet, just aware of all my surroundings. It was quite disturbing because how I felt then went with it.

It was like I was standing in my room after my mother came in and yelled at me, grabbed me and slapped me during an argument with my step-father. I remember how bad I felt and how confused I was and feeling really alone and scared to move or say anything. I just stood in the middle of my room feeling like crying, but not daring to do so.

So easy to make the tears go away. Wanting so much to just disappear and die. Not understanding what I did wrong. And afraid she would come in again. Remember Gene turning up the volume of the television and my mother banging around in the kitchen. The dilemma, do I go in and offer to help to calm her down or will it make it worse or will she suddenly call me angry that I didn't know that she wanted help. (my stomach, chest and throat hurt)

In that position so many times. She really did hit a lot and I was scared all the time. After a while it didn't hurt anymore and I got a little more attuned when it was going to happen, so I was able to brace myself and numb out a little. And, she yelled or screamed at me quite frequently. Sometimes, it would anger my step-father then he'd start screaming at me. I was terrified...he'd get that look in his eyes and would grab my arm and get right in my face. I couldn't move because of the way he held my arm. I hurt too.

I can hear them yelling at each other and at me in my head...it is so loud and I just want to die. I was so scared all the time. I used to bruise or burn myself sometimes just to numb out or stop myself from crying. I used to hit myself after my-step father would touch me. I used to think that he only used his fingers when I was in bed except for the time at his parents, but he did more. I feel like crying. It was on the days that he would take care of me. It was in the morning.

Seems like there was yelling almost constantly from before I was even born. Feels like I was scared of everyone my mother, my step-father, his father, my father, and his father.

I also remember I liked living with my grandparents and grandpa walking me to school, kindergarten. Also, remembering wishing I could disappear or that I needed to die because they argued about me, my mother and father. Afterward, I was never sure if she was going to come to me angry or wanting my comfort.

I remember a few times waiting on the porch for him and them arguing before we left. I remember his apartment and sleeping on the couch staring at the Cheerios on top of the refrigerator. Remember being afraid of his temper. He was really strict, so I felt like I was afraid to say anything. One time, he spanked me with his belt with my pants down because I spilled the cereal. I was three and terrified. Slowly, the visits stopped and were never overnight or where he lived.

Just seems like I was scared and anxious all the time...don't really remember not being so. Felt so alone, my stomach, chest and throat hurt again. Every now and then, I get like a wave of sadness or fear go through my body. I remember feeling that much of the time. I can't cry even though I feel like it.

The arguing, my mother or my step-father screaming at me, my mother slapping me and the bruising and burning happened a lot more than I thought I wanted to acknowledge. Keep having waves of anxiety and wanting to cry. I guess, that is what it was like then, all the time, even when it was quiet. It didn't take much for it to change in a split second. I think panic and overwhelmed are good descriptions of how I felt. On edge is a good one too.

Hurting myself numbed me out...also, a way to express my anger and how bad I felt. Feels like there was so much pressure to do the "right thing." Remember how painful and confusing the teasing was and how bad I felt. Wanting to immediately cry and feeling really crushed...I eventually stopped sharing even positive stuff and asking questions. Numb out...just go away. Slowly disappearing and losing myself.

Can't remember when I stopped crying I know we talked about that it probably happened in infancy. I feel kind of a numb sadness. I can hear so much yelling in my head...feels a little crazy...like I don't have control to turn it off or lower the volume. Sometimes, this goes through my head during the day. Feeling like crying or screaming or both.

Observations: I don't preview what is coming next in my journal, I usual just write as I go. However, I would swear this sounds like I completed the slideshow in time for this journal entry because so much of it is contained in the images. It is also a little of where I am at with still trying to accept and come to terms with how bad it was and how bad my acting out was. I still can't cry even though it feels like I would feel better if I could just sob.

Tears of anger, grief, comfort, & joy ~ Father's Day

I have always hated Father’s Day especially when James was around. Both my mother and James made it difficult for me. At the beginning, both insisted that I call him “Daddy,” which I adamantly refused…so I did have some fight in me that was never beaten or threatened out of me. Then, the same story of everyone getting angry at each other and I end up getting slapped, slugged or beaten for causing a fight or disobeying my mother. Eventually, she annually just bought a card and gift and made me sign the card and give it to him. I hated her for making me do this, but I still never called him, “Daddy.” The card was addressed to James and that is what I called him. He would accept the gift and usually like it, but would say to me things that made sure I knew I was not his family and he did not want me to be there.


I remember one Mother’s Day when my mother asked James why he didn’t give her a Mother’s Day card. He responded, “well, you never gave me any children, so you are not a mother to me.” I was really angry that he said something so mean to her and I went over and hugged her and told her Happy Mother’s Day, you will always be my mother. Makes me sick to think I said that to her knowing what I know now. My life was so confusing. Often times, I don’t think I understood what reality was and what was normal. Still don’t to some degree.

My biological father and mother divorced when I was 3 or 4. My father was really hypercritical of me. He also had some OCD issues that he expected the same detail in things that he did, from me. He criticized my mother in what she was teaching me and just how I was as a person. He criticized how I spoke, had my hair done, brushed my teeth, walked, that I spoke too much, how I ate, how much I ate, my grades, how I rode a bike…basically, seems like everything. He slapped me in the face frequently too if I was doing something improperly according to his standards which no one would ever be able to live up to. I remember my hand being slapped suddenly, when he felt I was using chopsticks incorrectly and because I was supposed to eat only one french fry at a time…I was eating two.

My father always made promises that he was “going to call every week and see me every other week,” but it never happened. Not a telephone call, not a visit, not a card…nothing. I last had contact with him in sixth grade and at high school graduation. I stopped trusting what he told me and hoping that things would ever be different. Never could talk to anyone about it…kept it all inside…just made everyone angry to bring him up. The last visit I did not cry at all, but I felt like I was so close to crying…no one ever asked how the visit went, so I never told anyone. I learned to stop talking and not to let anyone in. Also, I stopped asking questions and tried to obtain information from other sources or went without. I always assumed that each visit with him would be my last. Somehow, I knew that after this visit, I wasn’t going to have any contact with him again.

I wish I could tell you that I am angry and hurt, but that would be a guess because I am so numb and trying not to cry. However, my Grandpa was the one who tried to fill in the best that he could. He was/is my primary attachment because my mother certainly wasn’t. It was his passing in 2002 that started this major depressive episode and PTSD. I had lost my only real positive attachment and my protector.

Grandpa knew that he was going to die and started to wrote a small biography which is such a treasure. When he got to my part he wrote, “It was a great day when Clueless was born…those were fun times.” I’ve always found that to be a comfort. He really was the only one that wanted me. I miss him terribly (okay, I’m sad and crying now.) He used to pick me up from school, purchased my first real car and proudly walked me down the aisle when I was married. I think he was more happy than I was…he kept crying. I tried not to, you know the make up and pictures…more important and expensive. I really miss him this year. I think because of realizing how many losses that I have…grief builds up and becomes greater than it really was in the first place. He was such a blessing to me.

Many people have asked me about how I am able to relate to God as my Father. What I tell them, is that it was a lot of work via church ministries and therapy to get things straight in my head let alone in my feelings. God worked on my heart. His love was like a sieve to me. I could sort of hold on to it, but it would strain straight through and get filled again and drain. On thing that helped was writing out all the versus that talked about Him being a Father.

In closing, I want to share a couple of comforting versus for me. “You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book.” (Psalm 56:8 NLT) “Can a mother forget the baby at her breast and have no compassion on the child she has born? Though she may forget, I will not forget you! See, I have engraved you on the palm of my hands; your walls are ever before me.” (Isaiah 49:15-16 NASV)

I love you, Lord! Happy Father's Day!

I love you and really miss you, Grandpa! Happy Father's Day!