Tag Archives: pain

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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My inside died when I was young

I’ve been listening on that song all day, repeatedly. The phrase “ we are not forgotten”  comforts me in a mildly hurting way. It makes me feel like it is ok to be sad, it is ok to be hurt and that I am not forgotten. I have not forgotten myself, I still havent given up and there is hope. I hurt when I listen to that song but I hurt in a good way. It is like I can let go of some pain through that song by not escaping my feelings. I sent it to my closest friends today and asked them to listen to it and to be there for me where ever they are through that song.

When I’m not ok, when life is harder than other days I can not feel too much because it feels like I will break. I am on the verge of breaking down, the mildest attempt of kindness or love breaks downs all my walls and defences. You know when you are so busy with just holding it together so when someone asks you how you are, all you can say is fine but you know if they ask again or show any kind of physical comfort the tears will start to roll down your cheeks and the pain will hit you harder than a car on a freeway. This day has been one of those days. I wrote an email to my mother last night, telling her how I feel and that I am sorry for not being able to be physically close to her right now. She loves me so much that I cannot handle it right now, it is to intense and it will break down all my walls and I am not there yet. I wrote that I love her and that she is the best mother someone could ever wish for and that I know that she is there even when I push away. I feel guilty for pulling away from my family but right now I can’t do anything else. When I woke up today she had sent me a response, I read it and the email was one of those second lines of how are you and that hug that breaks down your walls. I cried, from the heart, from the soul and there was a sadness inside of me aching in every part of my body. It reminded me of the purpose to my fight, I fight for me and that what was she wrote. She told me she knew, my mum always know before I do. She wrote that she loves me no matter what, she loves me through everything I have to go through even if it means pulling away from her sometimes. The pureness and the honesty in her response helped me to feel that it is ok to be not ok. She is honest with what I go through, she sais that it is hell and that it is ok to be hell. I need that. I sometimes forget that. I have not yet accepted that I am not ok, that I have a wound greater than words can describe and that it is infected and hidden in deep scar tissue. When mum sais it is ok to be sad I can let go of my own defence and allow myself to be hurt.

The song playing now is Anna Ternheim, Shoreline. The words are like knives.

I’m not the boy that I used to be
this town has got the youth of me
all the eyes turn hollow
from the work of sorrow “

I know that there is only one thing I can do and that is to not give up. And I wont, I wont ever give up. But days like this one I have to remind myself of why I bother to fight. I fight because a life without going through this is no life at all. It is a life with no emotions, no feelings and no true love. I’m terrified but determined. He has already taken so much I wont give him more. I will heal, I will be ok, I just have to accept that I am not there yet but feeling like this is part of the way of getting there. Feeling at all is a huge progress for me because for so many years I did not feel at all. I was completely numb, I did what I was told and I stayed busy all time. I never gave myself the opportunity to feel. I survived that way but I can’t live that way. Right now it is not surviving everyday anymore, not it is surviving the hard days and learning to live the other ones.

I am responsible for my own actions but I can not control all that happens to me. I have to accept that I did not do this to me. He did. I am not responsible for what I have been through but I am responsible for how I act my way out of it.

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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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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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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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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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Tears rolling down my cheeks

I hate this part of the day when I’m in bed and I’ve turned off the lights. I have nothing that distracts me from my thoughts and feelings. I don’t know what just hit me but it feels someone just put an enormous stone on my chest. The stone is so heavy that I have to fight for every breath. I know I won’t stop breathing but it feels like I have to fight for every breath. Memories are attacking me because they know I’m weak at this hour of the day. I get affected and I can’t fight them. I just have to watch them as tears are rolling down my cheeks. I knew this would happen but at least I had one good weekend without the pain and the memories.

I don’t want to go to sleep, I’m scared of what I might dream. I wish someone would hold me right now and tell me that it is ok to be scared and that it is ok to cry when you are hurting. The problem is I haven’t shared my story with the ones I would need the most, my family. I’m 26 and still I wish that my mum would hold me and tell me that I will be ok. But how can I ever tell this to my parents and at the same time how can I not?

Tears keep rolling down my cheeks. I am not ok. I am scared and all I can do is keep trying even when it hurts the most.

I can’t go to sleep on my own without tears rolling down my cheeks and for that I hate you.

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I will not be a robot anymore

It’s time to open up again. After my therapy session I had no energy left to deal with my feelings so this weekend I have suppressed it and enjoyed living in the moment instead. Unfortunately that usually means that I a few days later feel so much worse than if I had not shut off my feelings. But sometimes I have no choice, I don’t have the energy to not be ok so sometimes even just even for a weekend I need to pretend that I am ok.

I notice a difference in how I feel now compared to six months ago. It’s like I have a different depth in my feelings and more levels in how I can feel. Since I have turned off my emotions for so many years, I’ve somehow got me a relatively one-dimensional emotional scale. Now that I have started working with myself , my emotional scale has expanded and it’s scary when feelings I have never experienced before comes forward. I wish it was easier to put  feelings into words, how do you describe a feeling never before experienced? It’s like describing a color you’ve never seen, a smell you never smelled or a taste you never tasted. It is somewhat how I feel, I feel in a way I never felt so it’s next to impossible to describe.

I have all my life since the abuse began, lived in the role. It’s hard to explain but I’ve lived a bit like a robot. My survival strategy was to always make sure to focus on something that takes up all my energy so that there is no energy left over for scary thoughts or feel how I really feel. I’ve always been told;

“I do not understand how you have the energy,”
“I do not understand how you can do it all!”
“You’re the strongest person I know.”

The truth behind that is that I have not had any choice. I have focused so much on things and engaged myself in a lot only to not have time for myself. I have created myself an identity as being the good one. By creating an identity, I did not show the real me, and by performing at most things, I was never questioned. There are not many who question the one who delivers great results, as does what is expected and who outwardly acts normal.

Today I am looking for the courage to be just me. I can not wake up every morning and go into a role. I do not want to live my life like a robot. I want to have feelings and all that it entails, both the positive and negative. It’s all new to me to be with other people when I’m just me. I fear what they’ll think about the real me. The reason I lived my life in a role is to protect myself. It has acted as a protective barrier around me. I built a wall between me and the world in terms of the role I have taken. When someone has not liked me, I could blame it on the role and then not have to deal with the fact that they do not like me. I think I’ve protected myself because I have been so damaged and hurt inside that my only salvation was that I have excluded the possibility of more pain.

I met a guy. I actually think I might begin to like him. I have realized that he is actually the first guy who can get to know the real me. It makes me scared, because if he does not like me, I can not blame it on something other than that he does not like me for who I am. I want to dare to give this a try. I’m angry that what I have been exposed to still hunts me. I will dare. I’m terrified. I will defeat my fear. I will dare to see where it goes regardless of the outcome. I do not want to live my life without daring to feel real. I’m ready to take the risk of being hurt. Life is no bed of roses, and just because I have been exposed to something no one should have to live through, I will not give up. Shit, it’s time for me to begin dare to live for real!

You made me into a robot and for that I hate you

 

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You locked me in a cage

There is so much I want to tell and so many feelings that I want to describe but it is like climbing up a hillside covered in soap. I keep trying but I just keep slipping back and it takes several tries before I manage to get somewhere. I want to share my story and I need to share it, because after I finish a post I read it out loud to myself and it is like if it is the first time I ever hear it. It is like I can’t process what I’ve been through and accept my feelings before I have put them in words and read them. It is so unreal and I’ve denied it for so many years that I managed to suppress it to the level where I need to hear it before I can believe it. It is like watching a movie and realising that the movie is about yourself. I don’t cry when I write the posts but I cry when I read them, I cry so much that my entire body shivers.

I suppressed what I’ve been through in order to survive, I couldn’t handle it and I couldn’t deal with it. I fled, not physically but mentally by trying to say that I only had myself to blame, it could be worse and that sex doesn’t mean anything. I learned how to live without emotions because as soon as I started to let myself feel my entire chest ached to the level where I could barely breathe. I kept not feeling even after it stopped, I was afraid that if I let go and started to process it I couldn’t bare what was hidden underneath.

It has been 6 years since the last time he sexually assaulted me and still he is the reason it hurts when I breathe, the reason I am terrified to death to fall in love because that means having sex with emotions and that I can’t do, the reason I fled my hometown and are miles away from my loved ones and the reason to so many other things.

He stole my virginity, I was 13 and he was 29. He was obese, bad teeth, poor hygiene and always with a cigarette between his lips. He was manipulative and he held my in an imaginary cage for 7 years. By imaginary cage I mean that he know what he would say to make sure that I wouldn’t tell and that I would keep showing up when he called. My therapist told me that it is still not to late to report him to the police and I realised when she said that, that I am still terrified of him. His words still echoes in my head. I havent seen him for several years and yet I am scared to death of him. Will this feeling of being terrified of him ever go away?

You held me in an imaginary cage 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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