Tag Archives: abuse

Perspective

Perspective. That’s what I got from all of this, perspective on life and all the challenges it brings. Whenever life is tough and tries to knock me down, I remember that as a thirteen year old girl I was strong enough to survive years of mental and sexual abuse. Thinking of the strength I have within me, makes me proud. I know I will survive, whatever life brings me. I know it will be tough, I know that I will be seconds from giving up, I know I will cry, I know it will hurt but I also know that I will survive it. It’s comforting to know that.

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Trust?

I think the best of most people, I always think the better of them unless proven otherwise. The same with trust, I trust them until they proved that they can not be trusted. The problem is that it takes almost nothing in order for me to stop trusting someone, the smallest lie breaks the thin line of trust between me and the other person. My therapist told me it was because the abuse and the rape broke my ability to trust. A child trust everyone and abuse proves to them that not even life or the world can be trusted.

Being able to love with all my heart but not able to trust? It is a challange to make my relationship work since I do not trust. I want to trust, I want to believe in him, what he says and I want to believe in love. But what is love without trust? How do I grow back my ability to trust? I love my boyfriend to pieces and he has never done anything serious enough to break my trust. Small lies, white lies, creates hell in our relationship. I dont like the way I am, I dont like the reason to why I am the way I am but I dont know how to break it.

How do I start to trust again when I learned the hard way that no one and nothing can be trusted?

 

I hate you for stealing my ability to trust and all that comes with it. Fuck you.images (1) images trust-quotes

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AAAAAAAAAAAAAGH! Fuck being fucked up!

It’s been ages since my last post, so much have happened and I have tried to make this part of my life as non-existing as possible. Every now and then I try to forget, try to convince myself that this is all history and that I am ok.  Then like a nuclear-bomb it all hits me again, breaking me down inside and out. I have come so far but I still have a long way to go.

I think of him every day, not a day without him in my mind. The taste of disgust in my mouth and the sickness in my stomach each time his face shows up. It is like I am haunted by the memories, like he still owns me and control my feelings and mind. During those years I lived in constant fear, a feeling that still does not let go of me. I am incapable to trust anyone who says they love me. I always believe that those closest to me will leave me and as soon as I get the feeling that someone is about to leave me behind I do everything in order to make it impossible to love me. Just so that I can say; ” I told you, you don’t love me!”. I keep proving to myself that I am unlovable instead of trying to just see what happens if I give in, if I let people love me. Maybe if I let people in, If I let go of the control people might just stay around and actually love me for who I am.

It is extremely difficult to let go of control. If I can’t control what happens, I am extremely vulnerable. If I can decide in advance what people will think of me, it’s easier, even if it results in me being difficult to like at least I know what people think of me.

It means I do not have to worry so much about what others think of me because I’ve already made sure that they don’t like me. If I’m not in control of what others think of me, chances are that they may not like me for who I really am. Then they are not liking the true me and that’s the scariest thing in the world. While those who like me, like me for who I really am then love me for my true self. I have to start facing life, trying to be my honest me every day because otherwise I will miss out on those who actually would have liked me if I had let them do it.

I will have to start letting go of control because otherwise I will miss out on life. 

 

balloon-let-go-love-quote-sometimes-Favim.com-411957 images letting-go-quote-girl-with-loveheart-balloon-picture-pics letting-go-quotes-11_large quotes-let-go-tony-robbins-600x411 SONY DSC tumblr_mcw8z3JC0u1rxp0iwo1_500

 

I feel better now, with every post that I write I feel that a tiny piece of my past is lifted of my shoulders. Bye bye anger, disappointment, fear, pain and disgust!

 

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Pretty smile hides dark secret

I’m sitting, I’m starring, I’m feeling, I’m hurting, I’m breathing, I’m trying. There is a lot of “I’m” but if you would see me through my livingroom window right now all you would see is a girl sitting on her couch with a laptop in her knee. You wouldn’t see all the “I’m” because no one can tell the struggle I feel inside just from looking at me. Right now there is a war inside of me, there is a lot of “I want to“and there are more of “But I just don’t”. It’s not that I don’t want to deal with my emotions, write my story, let the pain out and all of that it is just that; I’m sitting, I’m starring, I’m feeling, I’m hurting, I’m breathing, I’m trying.

I want to write down my story so I can report the rapist, the sexual abuser, the one who stole something to the police. I’ve even opened the document and I can’t even bare to read what has already been written. That is how much it hurts to face what I’ve been through. Writing the story is accepting that it has really happened and it happened to me. I keep thinking that I’m passed the accepting phase but I just realised that I’m not because if I were I wouldn’t avoid writing the rest of the story. I think I have accepted that it happened to me but not all of what it means. I still can’t say it out loud;

  • I have been raped

  • I have been sexually abused

As soon as the two sentences above was written I caught myself looking everywhere else but on the computer screen. It’s hard to keep writing, because there it is in black bold letters. It is my story. My past. My secret. My pain. With tears in my eyes I try to force myself to read it, over and over and over and over again. I don’t know what else to do, what else can I do? I keep telling myself that for every time I read it I take one step closer to realising that I can’t escape it. It is what it is. It will never be easy, it will never go away but one day maybe I can read it and not look away. I hope that I can turn it around, find some kind of strength in it. I need to find a positive outcome of it because without it, whats the point in fighting it?

I’ve learned one thing from it. Never ever judge a person on his or her looks, smile or eyes. The saying never judge a man without walking a day in his shoes is pure human knowledge. Even the prettiest smiles, the kindest eyes and the most fashionable looks can hide the deepest pain, the darkest secrets and the blackest past. We have all had different opportunities in how to handle situations so painful you’re thinking of giving up breathing just to stop the unbearable pain. You could never tell what I live through every day by just looking at me, you cant even tell by knowing me. I am a living example of that the prettiest smiles hides the darkest secrets. So “Dont ever judge a man without walking a day in hus shoes”.

Im gathering all the courage I have, I need it, it is story from hell telling time.

“We can spend our lives letting the world tell us who we are. Sane or insane. Saints or sex addicts. Heroes or victims. Letting history tell us how good or bad we are. Letting our past decide our future. Or we can decide for ourselves. And maybe it’s our job to invent something better.” -Chuck Palahniuk

It still hurts every day and for that I hate you.

 

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What is my heart really feeling?

I’m sitting on my kitchen floor, crying. I’m surviving, I’m breathing, I’m healing and I’m hurting. I’m far from okey and worse then I’ve been in a while but I feel a fighting spirit within me that I haven’t felt before.

There are different phases of healing from a trauma and tonight I hit the anger phase. I want to scream! Kick! Hit! Run! I am so fucking angry! I did not chose this to be a part of my life and yet I am the one who has to live with all the damages it caused me.

Who gave him the right to rape me?
Who gave him the right to sexually abuse me?
Who the fuck does he think he is?
I feel pure hate.

But this is my life, this is a part of my history no matter if I chose it to be or not. I have to find a way to live with it. I have to grieve over the fact that it happened, I have to find a way to accept that it has happened and that no matter what I do it will always be a part of my life. I need to be angry. I need to be sad and I need to feel everything I need to feel. First of all I need to find the courage to feel at all, asking my heart how it feels is terrifying.

How am I really feeling today according to my heart?
Really really scared, alone, hurt and angry.

I am scarred for life and for that I hate you.

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Uncensored story from hell

Even though I slept more than 10 hours last night I am exhausted. I have had several cups of coffee and yet I am exhausted. Not even the shining sun gives enough energy for me to not be exhausted.

My friends met me at the train station yesterday, the walked me to the police office, they waited outside to help me to keep breathing afterwards, they stayed with me the entire day, night and are still here. That’s real friends, they don’t care if you have enough energy to admit that you need them, they know that you need them and with no questions asked, they are there.

The meeting lasted for an hour but it felt like forever. I didn’t make the official police report but I asked all the questions I need to have answer to in order to do it. The next step is to try to write down everything I remember and try to sort the memories according to when they occurred. That will be ,by far, the hardest thing I have done, having to remember everything that I for so many years done everything in my power to forget. There are reasons why I have suppressed them. Until now I have only told the “surronding” story, I havent dealt with any of the actual “abuse and rape” memories. I don’t even know how to deal with them, thinking of them makes me sick. Writing them in words, where will I find the strength to do that? The smells, the feelings, the environment everything that happened, in actual life and in my head. Everything is of importance, I need to tell the story the best as I can because the more I am able to remember and describe, the greater is the chance that he will be convicted for it. Tomorrow I will buy a notebook, I plan to carry it everywhere so when a memory pops up I will catch it and write it down. Part of hell starts now but I think I have to run through hell in order to get out if it. This wont be easy, it wont feel better but I know that in the end far from here it is a necessary step to take in order to reach the end.

Knowing what comes next, telling the real uncensored story, that is what makes me exhausted. Coffee, sleep and sun wont help, just breathing and keep going no matter what will lead me through it, and my friends and family. Hell is exhausting.

 

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I’m broken into a thousand pieces

I’m far from ok. I thought telling my family would make it easier to be not ok because I thought them carrying me when I couldn’t stand on my own would make it easier. It didn’t. It’s harder. Them not knowing meant that I could keep pretending that my story wasn’t a part of my reality. When I couldn’t bare that my history is my story I pretended that it had never happened and since my family didn’t now the truth it made it easier to pretend. I can’t pretend anymore, I can’t escape my history so what to I do now in the moments where I can’t bare my story? I ended up flat back on my kitchen floor earlier this evening, all energy just drained and I fell apart. My story keeps slapping me in my face, I can’t outrun it and there is no where I can go where it isn’t a part of who I am. It’s unbearable.

Tomorrow I am going home, the train leaves in 7 hours, it’s 11 pm now and I know that it will be impossible to get any sleep to night. If I do, nightmares will haunt me. I don’t want to see my parents faces, I don’t think I can bare to see my story in their expressions. The pain my story is causing is enormous. My father cried when he heard it.

I decided that I will report him to the police.

You broke not only me but my entire family and for that I hate you!

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A chapter from my sweet 16

This is my journal. My story and my way of making it through. When I write I just write the words that my fingers creates from the keys on the keyboard. I don’t think about what I write, it is like if I was on autopilot, my fingers dance away and create words, the words builds sentences that creates chapters of my story. I never know what I will write about and sometimes I feel lost in my posts and I am always surprised when I press publish because somehow the confused memories has created a complete chapter in the story of my life. The chapters are from both the past and the present and I have realised that; what I have been through affects every day of my life and that is why I sometimes can’t differ between now and then. A lot of the times I start to write about how I feel today and after when the post is complete it is like it has guided me and helped me to figure out where the feelings come from.

I never knew that words from strangers could be comforting but your comments have proved me wrong. This morning I woke up to a comment that made me cry. She made me realise that my story has an effect on people and when you tell me that what I have been through is not ok, it helps me to realise that it was not ok. I have struggled for so many years with the blame, I have blamed myself for what happened. I can’t count the times I’ve thought; What if I would have done something different? What if I would have just refused to get out of bed one morning? What if I would have jumped in front of a car to make it stop? I finally realised that it doesn’t do me any good to think what if. I can never change the past, all I can do is change today and my future. I can’t control everything that happens to me but I can control what I chose to do with it. I am in control of my own choices and I’ve decided to stop thinking; what if. It is harder than it sounds, because life is full of choices and by stop thinking “what if” you have to take responsibilities for all your choices and if you make the wrong one you have to make it work anyway.

I am scared of showing too much emotions, I’m afraid that I will scare people off. I hate that, I hate that I am not brave enough to stand up for what I feel. So what If I say I love you to a friend or a boy. If they feel cornered or uncomfortable it is their problem, no one has the right to be angry at you for saying you love them. I hate that I am scared of how they will react if I show that they actually mean something to me. I am so damaged that I can’t even say “I think I’m really starting to like you” without it feels like I am throwing myself of a cliff.
I am afraid that I will look stupid if I show to much emotions. I sent the boy a good night message, I didnt know what to write so I took a picture of myself where I made a “kissing” face and just wrote, goodnightkisses! I pressed send and a minute later I felt like an Idiot. Why? I dont know. If he thinks Im stupid it is his responsible to let me know. Go me for daring to look stupid!
I think I know why I have such a problem with telling people of how I feel, it is because I care to much about what they will answer me back. I have to understand that telling someone you like them is not a question it is a compliment to them and that I dont need a reply. Telling someone you like them is losing control, it is daring to see what happens when you open up. Will they stay or will they run away?
There is the key to my problem, I cant lose control. My therapeut told me that Im in such need of control because that was my lifeline when the abuse was going on. I made it through, day after day, year after year with the help of control. By controling my day I made sure that no unexpected surprises happened. If something unexpected happend and broke my pattern of control I broke down completly. Telling someone you like them is losing control because you go from something you know what it is til somthing unknow. But that is life, daring to take the step.
Life is worthless without love. When I was 16 I met a guy, the abuse was stil going on but this boyfriend “saved” me. He didnt know about the abuse so he couldt stop them, he saved me in the way that he held me when I went to sleep. He broke up with me after one year, and for me that ment that the world was going under. I broke down, I shivered, I couldnt breath and my parents couldnt for the world understand why I was so sad. Everyone have had a highschool crush that ended in heartbreak but I acted like life was over. If they had know what was going on with me with the rapes and the assault they would probably understand that when he broke up with me, the only thing that made me get out of bed in the morning disapeared. I there and then decided, even if I didnt know it, that I have to have control because otherwise I wont make it. So that is why, I am so extremly scared of just saying:  “I think I’m really starting to like you” .

I cant tell the boy Im seeing that I am starting to like him and for that I hate you!

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It was not my fault

I get this urge to tell my story to the world sometimes but as soon as I open my mouth I can’t to get a single word out. I get scared. I’m scared that it will make people judge me. I blamed myself for so many years, that scarred me, and I am afraid that when I tell my story people will say that it is partly my fault. Rape victims blame their self sometimes just because they didn’t scream or fight back, they don’t realise that that was their best shot at surviving. I never screamed, I didn’t fight but I did everything just to survive. Every morning I got up, I lived through it even when it was impossible. All my strength went to just surviving, I had no strength left to fight it. I learned to live with it. When I look back I wish that I would have screamed as loud as I could until my lungs bursted. It’s hard to live with the fact that I did not fight back, my therapist says that it is a surviving mechanism to enter auto mode when something like this happens to you. I’m trying to forgive myself for not fighting but it is really hard. I am so hurt and trying to deal with it and taking my life back brings back all memories.

For years I’ve denied and suppressed it, I did everything to try to find other explanations to what I’ve been through. I had sex with people I didn’t want to have it with just to relive the feeling of disgust and angst, because if I felt like that after sex maybe what happened to me wasn’t as bad as I was afraid it was? It didn’t help at all, it made it worse and made me want to crawl out of my skin. He has affected every moment of my life since the day he stole my virginity. First I lived with the sexual abuse, threats and manipulation for 6 years, when it finally came to an end I had to live with what I had been through. I had never said a word and until a year ago I had never said it when being sober. It wasn’t my fault and yet it made me feel ashamed of what I’ve been trough and i just couldn’t tell. It has created a wall between me and my family, they don’t understand why I have reacted and behaved as I have when growing up. I dont blame them even if I wish that they had seen that something was wrong. I think something’s that i did as a teenager was a silent cry for help, a whisper of see me see me save me!. But they didn’t and I did not scream either. I hope that I one day will find the courage to tell, I want them to know and I think I need them to know. I’m terrified that they will blame their self if and when I tell them. But if they don’t know my story they will never really know me and I owe them that because they are great parents. The fact that they were going through a divorce at the time matters, I don’t blame them for not seeing me when they were hurting so much for breaking up our family. It wasn’t their fault they didn’t see me and yet a part of me is so angry with them that I’m shivering.How could they not see me?

You made me blame myself and for that I hate you

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The harsh truth that I have never told before

I’m hurt and I’m hurt really bad. I’m hurt more than I have had the courage to realise. It took me several years before I could even start to realise what I have been through. I said the words out loud for the first time in my life a few weeks ago, the words were so strong they made me sick. I couldn’t stop crying, I was shaking and short of breath but finally I said it:

He raped me

The fact is, he did not just rape me, there are so many things that he did that I just can’t write. Not yet. When the memories pop up in my head, I feel sick and I want to crawl out of my skin. He stole my life, that is what he did. He stole something that no one has the right to steel, there are no explanations good enough to justify that you stole someones life. He stole a piece of my childhood, he stole my ability to love myself and what he did to me changed me for the rest of my life. There is something good in every bad, but in this case I can’t seem to find the good part of it.

Ive decided to fight, fight to get my life back and learn how to live with it. In my life there are bad days, really bad days and ok days and I will fight because I want to be able to have great days and amazing days as well. It is almost a year ago since I for the first time told my story to someone, I’ve mentioned it before in the fogs of alcohol but when they asked the next day ive denied it. After telling her, one of my dearest friends in the whole world, my journey started and there was no way back. During the past year I’ve cried more tears than an entire ocean can hold, ive screamed more than my lungs can take and ive expressed anger in all the wrong ways. I’ve travelled the world twice and yet this is the hardest journey I’ve ever been on. I’m terrified, I’m tired but I will not give up even when it hurts so bad I can barely breathe.

I cry when I write my posts in this blog because I write straight from my heart. I do not censor anything. There are no lies only the truth that I’ve hidden from everyone including myself. I will not write who I am because Im not there yet, maybe one day I can be brave enough to tell the world what I have been through but not now. My journey has begun, one step at a time, one breath at a time and one moment a time and I will be ok.

you raped me and for that I hate you

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