azdesertrose: (Default)
I wanted it to reflect other things besides my pain. I want to try to become something besides a walking wound.

Right now I can't stand to have anything on my wrists because it reminds me of my father's hands on my wrists pinning me down so he could rape me. It's cold today for Florida and I have a sweatshirt on and I can't stand to have the cuffs down on my wrists. I can't stand for my wrists to be warm.

Part of me wants to cut my wrists to let the blood out so they'll be cold and won't feel this any more. Cutting is not an option for me any more, but I want to so badly. It's not a suicidal thing, just a self-injury thing.

Nicholas has hinted pretty strongly that he would like to make love with me and I'm not sure I can today. I'm just too emotional today to be able to handle it, even though he's a wonderful, gentle lover. I don't want to be naked. I feel too vulnerable even dressed.

It's a problem I hadn't really foreseen but I should have. Nicholas needs lovemaking to make him feel loved and wanted. I like to make love, I really do. But sometimes I just can't do it emotionally. I want to make him feel loved and desirable and that particular part of masculine that has to do with feeling sexy. But some days, I just can't do it.

I feel so many things. I feel vulnerable and wounded and scared. I feel alone, and I feel like I should be alone, like I'm not fit company for human or beast. I'd like to cry but I just can't. I feel locked up in my face, like tears just will not come even though I want them to.

I want to just cuddle and talk, but I'm not sure that's going to be enough for Nicholas tonight. I hate feeling this way. I hate my head.
azdesertrose: (Default)
I don't know what's wrong with me. I have no energy, no appetite, and I feel like absolute shit.

I'm scared. My therapy appointment is Tuesday and I'm hoping it will turn out well but I'm scared. I'm going to have to tell my story all over again. I'm going to have to dredge up a bunch of stuff I'd rather not think about all in the hopes that somehow I can heal myself. I'm always afraid when I go to a new therapist that they're not going to believe me, that they're going to think I'm lying about having been sexually abused and raped. It's a groundless fear. I have yet to have a single therapist do that, except for one psychiatrist who asked me if what my dad did to me was "just statutory rape", as if that makes it any better that he raped his 11-year-old daughter. It's just paranoia on my part, I guess.

For so many years, abuse victims were not believed, and I came up in the years when they were finally starting to believe that people could and did hurt children like that. I remember the invalidation of "nobody's father would do that" kinds of things.

But I remember the pain. Sometimes I remember it so vividly it's like I'm back there again.

How do I reclaim myself from this? How do I pick up the pieces of Nora and turn them into a whole woman?

I read the bio for the therapist I'm going to see. Her name is Patricia and she sounds really awesome and part of me is really hopeful that she'll be able to guide me to wholeness. But part of me is a scared kid, never mind that I'm well past childhood now.

Sometimes the world is a big scary place.

And somehow I'm supposed to work through this emotional turmoil and go take care of my household, go buy groceries and cook supper and do all that stuff while I feel so crappy.

I need something to make me smile. I wish the cats would do something funny or something to make me laugh.

Part of me says, "Just push the emotions down and fucking well do what you need to be doing!" and part of me says, "Just how the fuck am I supposed to do that?"

I just want to chain-smoke and cry but I can't do that. I have to find a way to cope.

I tried to watch "Clue" (very goofy movie based on the board game of all things) last night but I fell asleep about 30 minutes into the movie. I was trying to cheer myself up.

I really am trying. It's just such a struggle sometimes to get up and get dressed and comb my hair and brush my teeth and function. Days like today, I'd really rather just lie in bed and stare into space. But that's not healthy either. I feel like it's an invisible struggle, like nobody understands how hard it is to make myself do the mundane things I have to do.

I just feel scared and hurt and alone.


Nov. 8th, 2008 07:14 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
So Nicholas and I stayed up talking all night last night and I got really upset, which set me off into a dissociative episode and then a psychotic episode this morning. I've slept all day.

Triggers: CSA, hearing voices, catatonia )

I feel better now after some sleep. I'm kind of hungry but I don't feel like cooking. What I really want is a hamburger and some french fries and some mac and cheese.


Nov. 2nd, 2008 01:52 am
azdesertrose: (Default)
I finally nailed down what's been bothering me so much lately.

Cliff's angry behavior is reminding me both of my father and my ex-husband. I feel like I have to be perfect to avoid an angry response, and part of me is illogically afraid he's going to hurt me in some fashion. In some sick way, I almost wish he would just haul off and hit me. At least then, I wouldn't be waiting for the other shoe to drop all the time. I know that's not healthy, and logically I have no desire to be hit, but emotionally it would almost be a relief.

I feel like I'm 10 years old again, trying to manage my father's household for him and stay away from his anger.

I'm spending a lot of time with Nicholas, at least partially because I don't have to walk on eggshells with him, which is probably not helping patch things up with Cliff, but I'm actually feeling afraid to be with Cliff now, and I don't like that dynamic.

I want the old Cliff back. This personality transplant he seems to have undergone reminds me of David, and how he changed after Mini-me was born.

The whole situation is very triggering for me, and it sure as hell is not helping me try to quit smoking.
azdesertrose: (Default)
I feel horribly tense. I can feel pain in my vagina, body memories of how my father used to hurt me. I feel like I can't talk.

All I want to do is cry or cut. I really would prefer to cut than to start crying. I would rather bleed than cry.

I wish I could dissociate and just get away from these feelings. Help.


Oct. 29th, 2008 08:25 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
I've been tired and run-down all day today, and I feel kind of depressed.

I can't really say why.

Last night Nicholas and I got into a conversation about our childhoods, and that was not the cheeriest thing ever. In fact, it left me wanting to cut, although I no longer have the means to do so. But I kept staring at my wrists and wishing for a razor blade. I even thought about running a hot bath and slashing my wrists deeply, although that was a relatively fleeting thought.

I just want to hold my teddy bear and cry.

I don't want to cook supper, I don't want to do anything. I just want to curl up and try not to think about anything any more.

I told Nicholas about the incident Jerry (oldest brother) told me about, which happened well before I was born. Mark, my youngest brother, cut out of line and Dad picked him up by his shirt and kicked him into his room. Curtis (middle brother) and Jerry got upset about that and started arguing, and Dad did the same to them. Mom protested and Dad slammed her against the wall, put his arm across her throat and told her to shut the fuck up.

I also told him about the vague early memory I have of Dad backhanding me across the room and Mom screaming that he could do what he wanted to her but to leave me alone.

Cliff and Nicholas and I had an overdue conversation last night in which Nicholas and I tried to explain to Cliff how we miss him and how we want to be a cohesive trio. I never meant for this relationship to be me-and-Nicholas and me-and-Cliff. I always wanted a connection between all three of us. I don't expect the connections to be quite the same, because we're all different people, but I want Cliff and Nicholas to feel connected to each other, not just to me, even if it's just a really-good-friends type thing. And Cliff has taken to calling Nicholas "brother" which he only does with his closest friends, so that's good news on that front. So I think Cliff finally sees how his anger is affecting all of us, and hopefully he'll be able to let it go and we can be what we meant to be as a trio.

Cliff's behavior, though, had been reminding me of my first husband, and that's never good for me. I try not to think about David any more. I haven't seen him in thirteen years, and so much the better for Mini-me. But David seemed to get a personality transplant around the time Mini-me was born. I felt like I'd married one man and gotten something else entirely. And Cliff's recent, wildly-out-of-character, short-tempered and hostile behavior made me think that maybe I'd made the same mistake again, fallen in love with a man who was going to turn into somebody else on me once he was sure he had me. I think the fact that I told Cliff he was reminding me of David may have jolted him into a realization of how his behavior is affecting the whole household.

Anyway, I guess I'm just feeling the strain of a lot of unpleasant memories and the tension in my home right now. Maybe that's why I feel depressed. I don't know.

I'm trying to resist the urge to go hide in my room and not talk to anybody, but I know that's not healthy.

It's game night for me anyway, so I can't go hide anyway. But I want to.
azdesertrose: (Default)
I woke up this morning because I was hot. I was in a pile of snuggly warmness with Cliff and Nicholas, and I started to sweat under the covers.

I was thinking about last night. Nicholas was remembering bad things about his childhood, and feeling bad the way you will when you're remembering things like that. He's still at that point of thinking that because he was beaten and abused that he deserved it. I asked him to picture just some random little boy in his childhood instead of himself. I asked him if those things were horrible, happening to the random little boy, and then I asked him, "What makes them any less horrible because they happened to you?"

The things that happened to him in his childhood should never happen to any child. Little kids should climb trees and ride bikes and run amok and have a great time. They should have someone to kiss their owies when they inevitably get scraped knees and bug bites and all the minor owies that little kids get. They should have adults hugging and kissing them and holding them on their laps and reading them stories. Every child deserves love. No child deserves to be beaten or neglected like he was or sexually assaulted like I was.

What makes me the angriest about the whole thing is how calmly he accepts what happened to him. He has every right to be infuriated that he was cheated of a loving and carefree childhood. But every time he tells me about something else he suffered and I react with shock and suppressed anger, he says, "It's okay." It's not okay. It is majorly not okay. It is not okay that these things happened to him. It's never okay when adults hurt children the way the adults in his life hurt him.

It's never okay.

Oh dear...

Oct. 20th, 2008 01:22 pm
azdesertrose: (Default)
I had a horrible nightmare last night.

Detailed rape nightmare, skip if you're easily triggered. )

Cliff is still being difficult. I sucked up my nightmare and tried to take care of his emotional needs this morning; he is now upset at me over stupid stuff. Nicholas used his EBT card to buy some groceries, amongst which was a box of chai. I never had any clue that Cliff liked chai. In four and a half years that we've been together, he's never once drunk chai. But he was upset that I bought chai for Nicholas (technically Nicholas bought his own damn chai and is sharing it with anyone else who might want some, seeing as he bought it on his EBT card). And he's also upset that I was going to go buy sharp cheddar cheese for cheese and crackers. I prefer mild so I've always bought mild. I had completely forgotten that Cliff liked sharp until I mentioned that I was going to buy some sharp because Nicholas likes it. Normally I'm the only one who eats cheese and crackers any damn way.

Let me clue you in. Cliff and I had a miscommunication a couple of weeks ago. Cliff watched Nicholas and I make love (and some damn amazing love it was, too), and then was upset when I joked about being abundantly satisfied after we were through. Cliff wanted to make love with me because he was all turned on from watching Nicholas and me, and I was just about orgasmed out. But he's been angry at me ever since then, and every last little thing I do seems to piss him off.

Anyway, this morning, I sucked up my triggery, anxious feelings and tried to soothe his anger, and got nothing but more anger. I even told him that his anger was pushing me away from him, and he doesn't seem to care.

I love Cliff. I really do. I honor our history. We've been together through some phenomenally hard times and some great times. I want to stay with him. But I can't be the only one putting forth effort to meet needs here.

I told Nicholas last night that I felt a little guilty depending on him for comfort when I used to ask Cliff for comfort, but it feels to me like Nicholas gives freely what I had to beg for from Cliff.

And then this morning, when I got back from driving Cliff to work, upset about the nightmare and upset about Cliff's continuing anger, what did Nicholas do? Respected my wishes down to the letter (I didn't want to be touched because of the nightmare) and made me a lovely if slightly over-honeyed cup of Tension Tamer.

I love them both. I don't want to have to choose one over the other. But Cliff seems determined to force me to a choice, and if he keeps pushing me away this hard, I'll have no choice.
azdesertrose: (Default)
You might want to skip this one if you're easily triggered. TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual and physical abuse, odd racial issues, police abuse, mental illness.

I had this extremely bizarre dream that I just woke up from. I dreamt of my brothers, but in real life, I have three brothers; in the dream there were seven of them. And for some bizarre reason, we were all dark skinned; IRL, we all have fair, freckled Irish complexions. We didn't have African-type facial features or hair, just dark skin.

In the dream, my father was sexually abusing all of us, and he had a police officer friend in on it, and the officer told us kids that no one would believe us against him. To my knowledge, my brothers suffered physical abuse from our father, but not sexual abuse. I caught a few knocks from my dad, but most of the abuse from him was sexual. He never beat the hell out of me, and according to my oldest brother, he used to beat the hell out of my brothers on a semi-regular basis when they were kids.

I've had dreams before that my father "shared" me with his friends, except that he didn't really seem to have a lot of friends.

In this dream, for some odd reason, it was the late 1970s, when I was very young (I was born in 1976). But I still had my long hair, and I didn't have long hair IRL when I was little. (Nowadays, I can just barely sit on it.)

But I hit my father in the face with my braids, not caring that I would also hit myself with my hair, and somebody asked in a very Southern voice, "Who done messed with that baby?" ("that baby" being me)

My mother was in the dream too, and she was scared and trying to find something to hold on to, and had briefly gotten very religious.

There was a man who looked a bit like my uncle (mom's brother), whom I addressed as "Papa Lawson." No clue who he was. He was advising my brothers on career choices and taking care of my poor confused scared mom.

I'm so confused. I'm trying to figure out if I'm actually remembering something new, or if my brain is just scrambled. I have schizoaffective disorder, so I do have hallucinations and do lose touch with reality from time to time, so it doesn't make this any easier. Is this just some bizarre concoction of my mind, or did my father really share me with a police officer friend to scare me out of telling on him?


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