Tag Archives: health

Cry my heart out- playlist

These are two songs on my “cry my heart out” playlist. Sometimes I just need to be by myself, close the door, turn up the stereo and just cry my heart out. Crying for all the things I never got to be sad about when they were happening to me. I think during those years I just shut everything out, in order to survive I just didn’t do feelings. I think that was me surviving, me entering survival mode, my only focus was to get through it.

Some days, I can be as happy as it is possible to be and from nowhere this sadness fills every piece of me, it even aches in my bones. I think that it is all those feelings I couldn’t deal with back then, I have accepted that it is ok to feel now and with the life I have today I can handle it and get through it. I think the only way to put it behind me is for me to let it out and tear by tear heal.

Join me in healing, not forgetting but accepting by listening to my songs and send me a thought of strength.

I never had any one to talk when this happened, please feel free to contact me if you need someone to talk to. Without others, life is unneccessary hard.

 

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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. 

 

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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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Grieving a lost childhood

I’m at the library, this feeling of sadness just hit me. I feel like a train just ran over me. I’m filled with this huge feeling of grief, I think it’s me grieving over years of lost childhood. I was on the phone with my mum the other day, the police had talked to her and she was going through her old diaries trying to find notes that could back up my story.  She read a piece from one of her old diaries, I must have been around 14 at the time, where she describes her sense of helplessness. She saw that I was struggling, she saw my pain but she could not do anything about it. I shut her out, I wouldn’t tell anything and if she tried to just be there for me I made it impossible. I cried out for help but made sure no one could give it to me. It tore my parents apart, inside and out.  So here I am, at the library, crying on my inside while trying to mend the depthless hole that this has created.

For the first time in my life, I am letting someone in. I am being the real me, I am done with trying to be something I am not. I want the people in my life to be in my life because they love me for who I am and what I am. I’ve started the journey to find who I really am, facing the emotions that lies along the way is a neccessary process to go through. If I want to put this behind me I need to find the courage to face everything that I couldnt face during the years of horror. I need to grief for that little girl inside me who used all her courage just to make it day after day.

I want to be curled up in my parents arms. I want this to have never happened. But there is no use in dreaming of things that cant come true so I will let my dad and mum know how I am feeling so that I let them be there for me this time and Ill dream of putting this behind me instead.

 

 

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I am disgusting.

Most of the time I consider myself to be non beautiful. It feels like I weigh 16 stones and I know that I don’t but that doesn’t matter because it is how I feel that matters. I’m struggling with feeling beautiful in my body, I feel disgusted, fat, used, molested and sometimes I just want to crawl out of my skin. I feel loads better when I eat healthy and exercise regularly the problem is that when I have my periods of depression I don’t have the energy to fight my bad thoughts. When I’m at the lowest I just want to eat, I eat until I feel sick because then I can blame the disgusting feelings on the food and not the real reason, which is that I can’t stand my own body because its been raped over 300 times. Where do I go from here? I’m sick of being fat and feeling disgusted by own body, I want to own my own body. I want to feel beautiful and I don’t mind having curves but I want to have them because I eat what I enjoy not because I eat so that I can survive just another hard period.

What I’ve been through has affected me in so many ways, it’s a long way to go but I will fight every step of it. Admitting my problem with food and how I feel about my body is a step. It’s a hard step because if you meet me, you wont be able to tell how I feel about myself. On the outside, you wont see any of what I write in this blog because I keep it to myself. Shame is not something you share is it something you hide.

Here is the truth, out load;

I am not comfortable in my own skin and how I feel don’t  match how I look. So when I have a dark moment I punish myself with eating loads just so my looks will match my feelings, the feelings of disgust and shame. Most of the time I feel so disgusted by myself I feel sick.

This is hurtful, I want to feel good about myself. I want to be able to be naked and not feeling used. There is so much shame, shame that I shouldnt carry but that I am stuck with. 

 

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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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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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Charged batteries and ready to report!

It’s been a while since I posted on this blog. Writing here means facing my feelings and the last few weeks I have been putting my feelings off trying to charge my batteries and just being a normal student.¨

After I told my parents it was like if I was drained, I had no energy left. I never thought I would tell them so when I did it took all of what I had to do it. When they knew, my brother and sister and the rest of the most important people in my life knew and I saw my pain in their eyes, I could finally relax for a while. I knew that I wasnt alone anymore and that I would never ever carry this on my own. It has taken me a few weeks to accept that they know and right after I told them I wish I hadn’t because the feeling of never being able to suppress it or ignore it again was terrifying. From this moment no matter how hard it gets the story is told and I can’t act like it never happened. When I started therapy I was afraid that when it got to though I would do like always, flee, ignore and suppress untill it didn’t hurt anymore. I realise that telling my family ment that I can flee when I can’t handle it because I know they will carry the pain for a while, they share it with me and they will help to get through it even when it is so though that it seems impossible to get through. So I think that is what I have done the last few weeks, I have let them carry my pain for a while meanwhile I have charged my batteries.

I will report it to the police. For me that is a huge step and I know that it will break me but its okay because I know that I will never be able to rebuild my ground unless I break down the one I am standing on for the moment. What he did to me was crime, I don’t know if it will ever leed to him being charged for it but at least I can live with it, I did my best. My dad sent me an article from the news paper today, it was about a similar case where the prosecuted actually got charged as guilty and dad wrote -“It is never to late”.  It doesn’t matter that it happened several years ago, I relive it every day so for me it is still a part of my present. The actual rape and abuse is in the past but the memories and the feelings I carry with me all day, every day and every where. For me this isn’t the past and reporting it to the police is a part of the process of making it become my past as well. Reporting it means telling it all, every part of it, having to remember things that I promised myself never to remember and telling things to others that I thought would never cross my lips, secrets so deep Im not sure I can find them within me. Im so scared, Im scared because I know it will hurt so bad that I wonder if it is worth to keep breathing and I am scared that they wont believe what I have to say. I know my family does and I have to remember myself that that is what matters. I am also scared that he will hurt me and even more scared that he will hurt someone I love. I am so scared and all I can to is face it. It is like bungyjumping with a safetyline you dont really know if it will work.

Today I ate, I ate loads, I ate untill I felt sick. I couldnt understand why because I wasnt hungry and then I realised; this is me trying to find other ways of feeling bad rather that facing the real reasons. That is what I have done since the sexual abuse started. Either I eat so I feel sick, drink untill I pass out, sleep with guys I don’t want, slam my fist into the wall and much more.  If I feel disgusted I eat in order to try to blame the feeling of being disgusted by myself on the fact that I ate so much. If I want to forget memories that wont go away I drink until I pass out. If I have to prove to myself that sex means nothing in order to try to normalize the abuse and rape I go out and sleep with someone I don’t want to so that I can justify the feeling of being used and raped. If I hurt to bad, I slam my fist into the wall because physical pain is easier to deal with. I realised my behaviour a few months ago and still I do it but the difference is that I can now forgive myself a lot easier because I understand why I do it and that it actually is okay. It is my way of surviving and in the end that is all that matters, that I survive and make it through it.

I will make it and there is no question about it but god damn it is gonna be a long bumpy road there but one day I will stand there with the greatest smile and not having to punish myself anymore. I will be happy because I realised that I deserve it.

For everything you are I hate you.

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Please help me out of hell

I’m in my favorite chair, all lights except one is turned off and I play one song loud and on repeat  “Takida- You Learn”. I don’t know what the lyric is about but the title, you learn describes my entire life. When I hear the song I think of all the things I have been forced to learn.

I learned to live with it I learned to get through the day I learned that no matter what I will somehow put one foot in front of the other I learned that I am always on my own I learned that life hurts I learned that pain is a more common feeling than happiness I learned to hide I learned to live with pain I learned to live a lie I learned that life isn’t what I thought it would be I learned that no one can be trusted I learned that I am invisible I learned that no one truly cares I learned that life sucks I learned to smile while crying inside I learned that no matter what I do I will end up on rock bottom I learned that I have nothing to lose I learned that I might as well try because life can’t be any worse than this I learned to lie I learned that childhood is not for everyone I learned things no child should ever know”

 

I learned life the hard way and it sucks.

 

It has been a rough couple of weeks where ive felt like ive been kicked while already lying down. My last therapy session was the most painful one so far. I broke down, I cried so I could barely breathe. When I left the session I had decided that I need to tell my parents because I need them when I feel like that. When I struggle to find my will to keep fighting I need them to pick me up and make sure that I will make it this time to. I have fought this battle on my own my entire life and I am not sure that I can keep doing it on my own. I called my parents as soon as I left the session, neither of them picked up the phone and neither of them returned the call until a few days later. When they returned my call I no longer had the courage to tell them. I don’t know how to tell them, I know I want to tell them but I don’t know how to. I know that there is no right moment to do it that there are only bad ones.

I am done with being sad, I don’t want to feel like this anymore and yet I am stuck in it. I know I have to get through it in order to feel better. I can no longer hide from it, try to avoid it or ignore it the only way to feel better is to get through it. I read a quote the other day; “If you are running through hell, keep running”. I believe I am in hell because I have not felt worse than this and I am afraid that if I stop now, I wont make it so I will keep running and keep fighting. The worst part is that I have to get through it alone if I dont find my courage to tell my family.

I dont want to go to bed. I have been up since 4am, 20 hours later I am still up. I am nackered but I dont want to go to bed, I feel so alone and it hurts so much as soon as I turn off all lights and try to go to sleep without no one holding me. Please someone hold me. Please someone find me some courage to tell my family. Please someone help me through this.

You made hell a part of my life 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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