This page is under construction. Because of the type of page it is it will always be under construction.
I've embarked upon a journey. I didn't plan my trip.
One morning I woke up and knew in my soul that I had to take this journey. I knew a time had come to leave where I was and to move on. To move to a better place. To a place where there is serenity. A place where I could find a calmness. A place that was mine where only those I allowed could enter. So I started my journey. My journey to healing. It's been a long road that I have followed. There's been lots of valleys to go through and a few hills to climb. I've been through some calm meadows. But most of the time I've found myself in stormy woods. It's not an easy path that I follow, but it's a path that I need to take. And I'm striving to reach that light that I can see at the end of the path.
My journey started along time ago. I will talk about some of the road I've travelled so far and as I travel I will continue to update. My journey started six years ago. Some of it is hard to remember because I am very good at burying the things that hurt or the things that I fear. Part's of my journey hurt. And I am sure there will be much more pain before it's through.
When the memories started coming I was very scared. I wasn't sure of what was going on. I thought that I was losing my mind. Or perhaps had already lost it. It started with one memory. A memory that was so real is scared me. I ran to the bathroom, tore off my shirt and looked for proof. And the proof was there. I'd never really paid attention to it before, but there is was, right before my eyes. I could not dispel the memory. I knew that it was real and prayed that I would not have any more. That was not to be.
I started to get headaches. Major headaches that would not go away. They would last for hours. Then they started lasting for days. I finally went to a doctor to be seen. I had the same headache for six days and I could not get it to go away. He said the cause was depression. I was suffering from a serious depression. He said that I was allowing something to bother me and that I needed to work it through. He prescribed some anti-depressants and said I should go see a therapist.
I didn't argue about the medications. I figured I needed them, but I really didn't want to see a therapist. I had a thing about trusting people and I didn't think that I could trust them. I was afraid that they would lock me away and throw away the key as well. So I left there with meds in hand and a determination to avoid seeing a therapist. My husband felt I should go to see one. That I might really need it. He said he would stand behind me all of the way and that he would fight against them admitting me as long as I was not self destructive. He said he would go with me if I needed him there for support. With some light pushing from his part I decided to go.
The first session went well enough. I didn't talk about much. I think that I jumped from topic to topic, but never really settled on anything in particular. It was that trust issue. Could I really tell it to him? How would he react? I went to him some more and finally I told my secret. It was the worst mistake for me. I guess I hadn't really been referred to the correct type of therapist because he was shocked at what I had to say. He stopped therapy in the middle of the session and went out to speak with my husband. He said he couldn't handle that type of therapy and that I should really be admitted. He felt like long term hospitalization would be best for me. I didn't feel the same way. He gave my husband the name of another therapist and told us to contact him. He said that this therapist might be able to help me, but he knew that he personally could not help nor continue to listen to my story or feelings.
So we're back to the trust issue again. Do I trust the new therapist or not? Do I jump around the topics, take all the wrong turns in my journey or do I stay on target and follow the correct path to healing. It was hard, but I took the correct path and opened up to him.
I found that he was truly concerned with me. He listened very well. He answered truthfully when I asked questions. Sometimes the answers hurt and that was not easy, but I knew that he was telling the truth. And that was the most important part of my therapy. Knowing the truth.
The first thing that he felt I should do was to journal. And I did it faithfully. I wrote and I wrote and I wrote. When a new memory came I would write it down. As each new one came I added new words to the journal. I wrote not only the memory, but my feelings about it as well. It was a big start for me.
I started to question him one day as to why I journal. He told me that I needed to tell my story to help me heal. I didn't understand that. I wasn't telling anyone anything. I was writing. Not telling. He told me that I was telling someone. He said that I was telling myself. And that was a big step. He said that it's been buried for a long time and that I was finally telling myself and learning to accept it.
He started sending me to group. That was really scary for me. I didn't think that I would like it. But I soon realized that I really looked forward to going. I was able to hear that I was not alone. My story may have been different, but in a way it was very much the same. We all had been abused by someone that was supposed to love us and protect us. I think that the major portion of me healing took place in this group. All these women telling their stories and talking about their feelings helped me to begin to understand my own.
But it wasn't going to last. I found that my husband was retiring from the military and that we would be moving. Unsure of what lay ahead I quietly sat down and started packing all of my feelings away. Putting them back into a box and taping the lid on tight. I thought that the lid would hold. It had held before. But I guess the box I had packed them in was just too small or too weak because they started creeping out again.
It was triggered by something very specific. The death of my father. The uncle who had abused me as a child attended not only the wake, but the funeral as well. During the wake I made my rounds and talked to the different relatives. I gave my hugs and accepted theirs. But I distanced myself from the man who had torn my life to pieces at such an early age. When I thought that he was coming my way I would excuse myself and step into the office with the funeral director. I would begin discussions with him about some aspect of the funeral the next day. Careful avoidance. It seemed to be working. But he could not be avoided the next day. He and his wife stopped to give me a hug. My world was turning upside down and spinning. I had just lost my father and the grief from that was heart wrenching, but to see the man who had abused me all those years and then be expected to hug him almost killed me.
I don't know how I survived that day. I know that I must have buried the feelings immediately so I didn't have to deal with it. I left the reception early and came home and slept. When I woke up the nagging feeling that my world was falling apart was there, but I didn't know why. I had already buried it deep inside and packed it away in that all to familiar box.
Within two months my mother passed away as well. Once again I had to face my uncle. I wanted to scream at him and beat him into the ground. But I didn't want to ruin my mothers memory. So I held back all of the feelings that I had inside of me. Once again I felt his touch as he hugged me. The inside of me sickened. Even though it was an innocent hug this time I could not stop feeling the disgust of before. The not so innocent hugs. The not so innocent caresses. The not so innocent touches and looks and smiles. All those feelings came back like a wrecking ball slamming into my heart.
I knew that I needed help. I went to my family doctor and asked to be put back on anti-depressants. I told her I was afraid that the loss of both parents would push me over the edge. She agreed. They didn't seem to help. I talked to her about my feelings and finally I told her the story of my uncle. She said it was time that I worked through ALL of it. Not just a portion. Maybe I should consider going back into therapy again.
I agreed to give it a try again. So here I am today. Telling about my journey as I once more started down that all too familiar path. As I travel it, I will be writing my feelings to this new portion of my journey.
The doctor recommended a gentleman that she thought that I would be comfortable with. She told me that she knows a few therapists and that she uses different ones depending on her patient and how they relate to her. She gave me my referral and asked that I keep in touch with her. And I have done that.
My first day of therapy was really a getting to know one another type meeting. A way of feeling each other out to see if this T might be the right one for me. I was scared to death. I can't even tell you what I talked about. As soon as I left his office I buried everything. I'm really good about that. I can honestly say that I knew that I would be able to work with him right away. There was something about him that I felt that I would be able to open up to. After all the garbage in my life I think that I have finally come to a point when I know that I can or cannot trust someone. I rely upon those instincts quite heavily now.
So. I will have to apologize for not telling you about the beginning of my therapy with Keith. I buried it. I don't know where I buried it so I can't dig it back up. I do know that my first few visits I jumped around so much that I made my self dizzy. Whether it was because I was trying to hold back on facing it or whether there are so many issues I need to deal with I am not sure. But I know that I jumped around a lot and never really worked on anything really hard.
I do remember going through some family pictures one day and deciding to bring them with me. In my own way I introduced Keith to my family. My mom and dad. My self as a child. I found the one picture of me as a child that actually had a smile on my face. I showed him some of the pictures that I thought he could get a feel for my family and I. I think that was my first real step with trusting him. I remember him sitting in a chair and me sitting on the floor by him handing him the pictures and telling their significance.
From that day therapy has seemed to move a little smoother for me. He knows that I am ready to face it and that I really want to. He knows that I know what I must do and he believes that I really want to do it. So there I am. That is where I'll go from here. With each new appointment I will update my journey. I won't bury it any longer.
I had to ask about my daughter. I knew she had been abused but I didn't really want to talk about it. I had to force myself to do so. She was so tiny at the time that I can't understand how anyone would want to hurt an infant. That fact that I witnessed it and didn't do anything at the time has been tearing my up inside. Keith asked if I even had a choice. Could I even done anything to stop it? I guess that he is right. I was not in a position to stop mine or hers. But it hasn't made me feel real good about it. Maybe learning to accept it a little.
Today I asked him to sit on the same couch as me. I feel a need to get past this trust issue. Part of me is yes, yes, yes, trust him. But part of me won't. I'm a person who needs my space. By letting him invade it just a little by sitting on the same couch was a major step for me. I survived the session and didn't make him move. I guess there is a little more trust. When I come to believe that I can trust him completely and myself completely then I think that I will be able to tell even the most shameful things about the abuse. Maybe then I can really heal.
8-17-99 Today went well for me again. I had some anxiety, but I managed through it. Usually the day before therapy becomes kind of frightening. I have some very strong mixed feelings about it. I know it's going to be painful to talk about the things. So I don't want to go. But I know that it's painful holding it all inside too. So I deal with the day the best that I know how. I somehow manage through it. But I go in there really wanting to do what is good for me. Last week I brought up the topic of oral sex. It's a very shameful topic for me. I have a really hard time dealing with it. My ex used it against me so much. That I find it hard to talk about it. So I chose that one. I dealt with it just a little. I didn't really go where I wanted to with it because I was so scared. Today however I started the session with the same topic. And I made the decision to tell it no matter how hard it was to tell. At first I could feel my throat tightening up. I could hardly breathe and I couldn't speak. When I did try to speak I began to stutter. But, somewhere inside of me I found the courage to pull the strangle hold away from my throat and I said it. I cried, I laughed, I cried a little more. But I said it. I told one of my most shameful secrets and as the words were coming out the grip around my throat began to loosen. I felt so free today. I know there is so very much more to talk about. To work through. But I felt alive today. And I have not felt that for some time. I also made another big step. I asked Keith to help me to stay focused. To keep me on track. So I came up with a plan. I cut out little pieces of papers. I wrote a secret or an issue on each one. I put them all into an envelope and asked Keith if he would just pull one out each session and make me deal with it. We agreed on it. We also agreed that if I didn't get past it in one session we would leave the envelope alone and continue where we left off. Today it seemed to work. I almost hurt my shoulder trying to pat myself on the back. I honestly feel that I have earned it today. I worked so hard and I faced my pain in a positive way. I can see a light at the end. It's dim still, but I can see the light at the end of my path. Someday I will be able to step out into it.
8-18-99 I have been struggling with something in side of me as of late. I'm not sure what it is, but I feel there is something in me wanting to come out. I have been having nightmares, but I can't remember them. I have gotten up in the morning to find bruises that I know are self inflicted. I've been scared since it started, but I am determined to get past it. I still have the wonderful feeling from yesterday, but last nights sleep was somewhat fitful. Today I am going to hang on to the wonderful feeling of a great therapy yesterday to help me make it through the day. I guess when I am emotionally ready I will be able to remember the nightmare. I do not look forward to it.
8-24-99 I haven't worked on this page for almost a week. This time of year our state fair is going on. It brings people into my job that I would not normally see. One of those persons happened to be my ex husband. I was the only one working on the front that day and he had to come through my line. I could not even face him. I scanned his items and couldn't even find the courage to tell him how much his order came to. I just quietly reached up and moved the screen so he could see the total. He didn't say a word. He took his money out of his wallet and held it our for me to take. I so desperately wanted him to just lay it on the belt or the counter, but he didn't. I had to hold my hand out for him to give it to me. I recoiled at the touch of his fingers as he placed the money in my hand. The rest of the day became a nightmare for me. I could not even work correctly. I couldn't concentrate. I felt all of the pain tearing at my insides. I couldn't controll the panic inside of me. And then the body memories started coming. I fought them as best as I could, but they just stayed with me. I called my T that night. It's something that I don't like to do. But I did and he somehow helped get through the night. I called him again the next day at work. Luckily I worked in a different store the next day and I was fairly calm through out the day. But the next day, as soon as I walked into my job, the panic hit me like a rush. I laughed and cried at the same time and I wasn't sure if I would make it through the day. I did, but not with out a major anxiety attack. One of the girls called my T for me, but he was out of town and so I dealt with it the best that I could. There is one person in my store that knows first hand how I feel. She feels it too. She became my comfort that day. I have pretty much pulled myself together, but I decided for my own comfort to take a break from my journaling and talking about it too much. I wanted to give my psyche some time to heal. Some time to regroup so I can once again get ready for the long haul. So with that said and done, I am ready once again to resume my journey to healing. I had a small set back, but it is not one that will stop me. I just had to find away around it and I believe that I have.
9/24 It's been a month since I've written. It's been a very lon month. I've had a hospital stay that did some good. I think that I really needed it. I'm getting back on track and hope to get with the swing of things again soon. I'm taking a week off from journalling. I'm doing this for me. But I'll be back at it soon. And I'll be ready for that journey again.
