I've been having weird stuff going on with my digestive system for quite some time. Blood in my stools on occasion, which, I believe, constipation and a hemorrhoid account for. Late night acid reflux - sometimes so painful that 8 Tums don't make a difference. An MD friend says it could be due to exhaustion. Difficulty urinating; I really have to focus to make it come out. Is my UTI really gone, or should I see the PA again? Is it from all those Kegels I do to help pleasure my husband during love making? During a vaginal exam while I was pregnant with our second child, the midwife asked me to do a Kegel while her finger was inserted. I guess to test the strength...? She was like, "Woah! Pretty good."
My taste buds are starting to rebel on me. Things I usually enjoy have bad aftertastes, or my body rejects them as too rich or greasy after just a few bites.
And now there's more to make me feel sick to my stomach.
I had searched on "sexual abuse survivor blog" to find other blogs by survivors. But there seems to be only a handful out there. So I decided to change the wording to get different results. I tried "sex abuse" and Google returned many results on sex abuse by Catholic Priests. A few were blogs, but I had to be a member to comment. Next, "incest blog." The results were downright shameful and disgusting. I didn't click on any of the links since they sounded so illicit; and I hope they are monitored by the FBI. But I was freakin' appalled.
"hot family porn"
"incest sex pictures"
"incest porn blog... incest relationships... of real kinky families"
I hope they are all FBI stings and a bunch of perverted fux get locked up. I know we live in a capitalist country, but money making should never cross this line. People want to make money off of $hit that hurts so many people so very deeply? They can never attempt to claim that it's not any worse than other illegal income, like selling drugs. No, this IS different; and if there's a hell, I hope they go straight to it. It truly made me feel sick.
I guess if you look for something online, you never know what you will find. If you know of any good survivor blogs, please let me know. Thanks.
Wednesday, September 1, 2010
Monday, August 30, 2010
Don't Shoot
This morning, I had a dream that there were two small groups of men battling over hidden monetary treasure.
I was with one group, two Scots and an American. The American walked away after attempting to open a mint green, wooden cabinet with a tiny luggage-type key. He complained that it was not the right key. I took the key and said to the Scots, "They key is bent. I'll open it." I had to look into the lock to make sure the key was properly aligned. Then turning the key, the padlock popped open. I swung the door wide, as the Scots hurried over to remove the cabinet's contents.
The second group of men arrived with guns, attempting to steal the money. Though I was a bystander - admittedly, I opened the cabinet, but it was out of frustration with the American's incompetence, not out of allegiance - the second group associated me with the first and grabbed my arm, pulling me in front of themselves as a shield. The Scots didn't want to shoot me since I had helped; and they were not as "bad" as the others.
I, then, ended up in the middle of their gun battle. At times, I was a shield, other, the kidnapped or simply a moving target. I ran and dodged as much of the action as I could. Then, I realized I was wearing a sheer, white nightgown and no underwear. I can't remember the middle part, but it had something to do with the second gang contemplating raping me. Then I watched from outside myself, as they held me in front of them and shot at the Scots and the American.
Somehow, the money ended up in a lock box in a secret room inside a store doubling as a safety box company and ice cream shop. Two unrelated groups of about 4 - 6 customers each, were seated at tables, enjoying the gourmet ice cream. One of the men from the second gang, took a few colorful, small, file boxes behind the counter, pretending to drop scoops of ice cream in them. Instead, what he was really doing was positioning his gun. He shot the security guard and one of the men in the first group. The customers were afraid; but the shooter simply held up his other file boxes and said, "It's OK. I have what I came for." And he left through the two swinging doors at the front.
I was with one group, two Scots and an American. The American walked away after attempting to open a mint green, wooden cabinet with a tiny luggage-type key. He complained that it was not the right key. I took the key and said to the Scots, "They key is bent. I'll open it." I had to look into the lock to make sure the key was properly aligned. Then turning the key, the padlock popped open. I swung the door wide, as the Scots hurried over to remove the cabinet's contents.
The second group of men arrived with guns, attempting to steal the money. Though I was a bystander - admittedly, I opened the cabinet, but it was out of frustration with the American's incompetence, not out of allegiance - the second group associated me with the first and grabbed my arm, pulling me in front of themselves as a shield. The Scots didn't want to shoot me since I had helped; and they were not as "bad" as the others.
I, then, ended up in the middle of their gun battle. At times, I was a shield, other, the kidnapped or simply a moving target. I ran and dodged as much of the action as I could. Then, I realized I was wearing a sheer, white nightgown and no underwear. I can't remember the middle part, but it had something to do with the second gang contemplating raping me. Then I watched from outside myself, as they held me in front of them and shot at the Scots and the American.
Somehow, the money ended up in a lock box in a secret room inside a store doubling as a safety box company and ice cream shop. Two unrelated groups of about 4 - 6 customers each, were seated at tables, enjoying the gourmet ice cream. One of the men from the second gang, took a few colorful, small, file boxes behind the counter, pretending to drop scoops of ice cream in them. Instead, what he was really doing was positioning his gun. He shot the security guard and one of the men in the first group. The customers were afraid; but the shooter simply held up his other file boxes and said, "It's OK. I have what I came for." And he left through the two swinging doors at the front.
Sunday, August 29, 2010
Open the door and step into the light
After an hour of stumbling through the net, here I am. I want to have a stage to talk about my life - now, then, and in the future - and share my thoughts on being an adult survivor of childhood sexual abuse. Though I am not ready to state my name, I am ready to share.
I went through a battery of abuses, two single event perpetrators and one too-numerous-to-count perpetrator. One of the single-event perpetrators was a family acquaintance; the other two were family members.
I have been through years of individual and group therapy and am currently on hiatus from counseling. I stopped due to a conflict with my last LCSW and have not picked it up again due to... money? Resistance? Fear?
Laying the issues aside only lasts but so long, then they wake up and swirl about me, leaking out of everyday moments. That is one thing I hope to write about: the triggers, disassociation, coping, methods to soothe, and anything else I can muster. I am having trouble already, clouds gathering around my head - clouds of sleep and avoidance. Opening myself up feels so intimidating, terrifying even, no matter how many times or ways I manage to do it.
Deep breath. Good night. I welcome your comments.
Peace,
Percheron
I went through a battery of abuses, two single event perpetrators and one too-numerous-to-count perpetrator. One of the single-event perpetrators was a family acquaintance; the other two were family members.
I have been through years of individual and group therapy and am currently on hiatus from counseling. I stopped due to a conflict with my last LCSW and have not picked it up again due to... money? Resistance? Fear?
Laying the issues aside only lasts but so long, then they wake up and swirl about me, leaking out of everyday moments. That is one thing I hope to write about: the triggers, disassociation, coping, methods to soothe, and anything else I can muster. I am having trouble already, clouds gathering around my head - clouds of sleep and avoidance. Opening myself up feels so intimidating, terrifying even, no matter how many times or ways I manage to do it.
Deep breath. Good night. I welcome your comments.
Peace,
Percheron
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)