Anniversary

On this very night, New Years Eve two years ago, I experienced a "scary situation" (I'm still not quite sure what to call it, so call it what you will). This was the triggering event that finally opened the floodgates, unlocked Pandora's box, and shined the light on my life. All of my past experiences of abuse and assault came rushing back with such unstoppable power. This was the beginning of my treacherous and labile healing journey that I am just now beginning to navigate. For that reason alone, I am glad it happened. This is the story...

It was NYE 2009. My roommates and I decided to throw another epic party at a local bar just couple of blocks from our apartment. We had a great time the year before and it couldn't have been any easier! It was a relatively inexpensive party that included kegs of beer, all you can drink well liquor/all you can eat appetizers and a champagne toast at midnight with ~30 of our closest friends. We knew the bar owner from working down the street from my best friend's salon. We had the perfect apartment for people to crash at and we would all go out to eat for breakfast the next day. I was wearing a knee-length cute grey dress with light brown 70's style slouch boots with buckles on the side, curled my long blond hair, and borrowed some jewelry from my roommate. The party itself was a blast. We had drinking game stations around the bar-beer-pong, flip-cup (canoe for those of you), quarters, and just card games all spread out. The TVs were all going with the different networks' NYE footage. Good food, good company, and good times all around. Once midnight struck, the night changed. Some guests of our friends got a little out of hand and drank too much. There was vomit on the bar, on the floor in the bathroom, in the sink in the bathroom...just a disaster. Last year we all helped clean up- since the owner did us a huge favor by allowing us to throw such a crazy party, we stayed and helped him. This year, it was suggested that everyone just leave. As all the folks were rounded up to stumble back to our apartment, I decide to quickly use the bathroom. No big deal, everyone was still standing around the bar. Cue twilight zone theme song...
I walk out of the bathroom and everyone had left. I see the door across the room slam shut with all of my friends walking down the street. I see the bar owner and his daughter cleaning up, looking disgruntled. I thank them both, apologize again for the disaster, and offer to stay and help while grabbing my coat and scarf. After all he was a relatively trusted business owner who had helped us have a great time two years in a row. I felt guilty. He said no it's alright, we'll clean tomorrow, come have another drink. I really shouldn't, but alright, thank you. Another vodka tonic with lime. *text messages from friends "where are you?" "Still here, [Sal] is a chatty Kathy tonight come help me!" "Alright have one drink then get out of there!" "I can't I'm stuck here come back." As his daughter finished counting her tips, he fed me more drinks "you don't turn down free booze." His daughter leaves and the next thing I know it's two hours later and [Sal] locks the doors. I see a police squad car drive by...he waves to the cop and sits back down next to me at the bar. It's now around 3 am. **text messages "Are you still there?" "yes help me." He proceeds to tell me how great of a business owner he is, how all the others in our town suck and that they'll all eventually fail. He, of course, will never fail because he knows everyone and has all the cops on his side....he's basically untouchable. Meanwhile, he begins to come on to me. "Help!! Please get me out of here" .... "Help!" "Help!!" to three of my friends. Hand on my thigh, brushing my cheek, playful shove. -he was in his late 40's/early 50's and I in my early-mid twenties...I was not okay with this. I however, had been drinking heavily for nearly 6 hours. ~side note, I always fight the effects of alcohol. I always wanted to be in control. I would, unfortunately, fight so hard that I wouldn't know when I was at my limit. I would surpass buzz and go straight to wasted because I just fought it.~ His come-ons were getting much stronger. I would try to avoid him but he had to be close to 6 feet tall. *parts of this a bit blurry... at some point he presses my body against the bar and has the scarf that's wrapped around my neck in his hands. He kisses me. I remember his scratchy beard and middle-aged man tongue...I tell him to stop; politely at first but he continued. He tries to reach under my dress and I desperately shout "I'm the same age as your daughter, are you picturing her right now?" He tells me that's disgusting and to shut up. "You're old enough to be my father." I try to slip passed him but his weight is pressed against me, with the bar behind me and two bar chairs on either side of us. He tells me to be quiet and just relax. As he takes a brief breath from eating my face...I pull my face away from his, and say I have to pee. He says, yeah, so does he...
I had to use the men's room because the women's had vomit everywhere. I try to compose myself in there and make a plan. I tear up as I look at my drunken reflection in the mirror, "how the hell am I gonna get out of here...he locked the doors." In my drunken state I remembered that the lock was above the glass on the door pushed into the door frame. I put on my best sober face and walk out, coat on, and scarf straightened. My feet hurt. Thank GOD he really did have to pee. As soon as he closed the bathroom door, I ran to the door, figured out how to unlock it and bolted. I ran down the block with the bars, shops, restaurants and salon...turn the corner out of sight from his bar...cross the train tracks, and run home...in my cute boots. Tears are streaming down my face. It's maybe 4 in the morning. Two squad cars drive right past me...
I get to my apartment and everyone is passed out. I go to my bedroom and all I want to do is go to bed....but two drunken idiots decide they would get lucky in my room and lock my door! I break down, fall to the floor pounding on the door, sobbing uncontrollably. I crawl to my roommate's room. Somebody's sleeping on the floor, I wake her and her boyfriend up. "Who's in my room?" crying..."Who the hell is in my room? Get them out!" In their drunkenness they try to help. Finally whoever was in there leaves. I am still uncontrollably crying. "Are you crying?" "Yeah" "Why what happened? What time is it?" I tell her briefly what happened and she sits down next to me on my bed. "Do you want me to help you change? Are you okay? Did he rape you? What do you want...I have no idea what to do...what do you ..? I'm sorry I'm drunk...I have no idea how to help you." "Just leave, I'm fine. No he didn't rape me. Yes it scared the shit out of me. No I have no idea why. Just go...I'm fine." "Are you sure? I'm so sorry, I just...I have no..." "Just get out. All I want to do is go to bed."
I pass out fully clothed, with my cute boots still on.

The next morning...I find a condom wrapper on the floor and I just cry again.
We all go out to breakfast. My roommate pays for me out of pity.
Everyone leaves, we come back to the apartment and I just lock myself in my room all day.
My journal entry that day begins with.... "I'm off to a swimming start this year. Definitely something to be proud of...Happy Fucking New Year!"


.......

I started seeing a wonderful social worker three weeks later who specializes in sexual assault, sexual abuse and domestic violence. I realized I have a long history of sexual (and other) abuse.
None of my friends ever went back to that restaurant/bar. Nobody spoke to him ever again. His business shut down a little over one year later. He looked like shit, aged 20 years, and lost his OTHER job as well. I'm glad his business failed. Is that bad? There are other things rumored about him and his family...but those are just harsh and mean-true or not. I'm just glad I don't see him around town anymore.

That's my story. If you read it all, thank you.

~SS

Next stop crazy town

Yesterday was rough. I often get these waves of darkness that completely consume me. I call them crazy train...well actually a friend dubbed them crazy train. They have died down over the last year or so. Now they only last about an hour or two (followed by some recovery time). They used to knock me out for a full day or even longer. All I can do is curl up and close my eyes. Sometimes I'll sob and cry that really hard cry that gives you a headache, blotchy face, and puffy eyes for 2 days. I find it incredibly ironic that the "happiest time of year" brought out such dread and darkness in me.

This is a text message that I sent to my best friend describing how it feels: me-...Sorry I just wanted to make a connection with somebody. her-:( :( :( whats going on in ur head today? me-A lot of scary stuff. Its like some evil being is right inside of me covering me with a dark heavy blanket and I literally feel like I will never be happy again, like I won't make it. Its like a weight is sitting on me reminding me of how terrible I am. It whispers so many things to me like "you are so disgusting, how could anyone give a shit about you, you are pathetic, you are so unlovable, you are such a worthless filthy little girl." and I'm defenseless against it.

When these crazy train moments occur, I usually send out apology text messages to my closest friends. I apologize for things like-being an idiot, being an embarrassment, for being a failure as a friend, for making them put up with me, and even for being a burden in that moment when they are talking to me. Sometimes I really wonder why or how they put up with me. I truly believe in those moments that I need to apologize to them, in a desperate attempt not to lose them but most likely pushing them away all at the same time. Once I went so far as to say goodbye and apologize for wasting their time being my friend. I am blessed to have them though. I have never met better people. I am honored that they do "put up with me" and every time I go crazy they listen, sympathize, offer help, and then tell me shut the hell up.

I never like to verbalize what actually goes on in my head. More times than not I censor and leave the "bad stuff" out. I'm ashamed of them. But maybe I should start trying to manage them a little bit better. This is a perfect example of how my "healing journey" has been. I've been looking at it all from over my shoulder, backwards. Maybe soon I can slowly start to turn around, face it head on, and stare it directly in the eye.
~SS

Burdens

I don't know why I do this, well I don't know why I do a lot of things but that's not the point. I don't know why I look at this as something I'll "get over" or something that will go away eventually like a cold or the flu. I find myself wondering when I can go on with life, not have to deal with ____ or think about ____ or experience this or that. I'm waiting for some magical day when I wake up and it's all over, it's all gone and is only a piece of my history. How silly of me to hope and dream that I can live a normal life free of worries, haunting dreams, shaking, and doubts. How foolish of me to forget that this doesn't go away. I have to live with this forever.
"The familiar sting wells in my eyes and my heart sinks deep in my chest. Darkness takes over and I imagine my good-byes. Nothing can stop it; tonight there will be no rest. Images flash, too gruesome to share...such a heavy burden to bear." -Me

Holding on to what hurts

It's like everyone is given a crystal figurine when they're born. A symbol or shape that only has meaning to them. It is uniquely theirs. As infants, when we are protected, it is sheltered for us as we are cradled, rocked, and cared for. As we grow we're told to be mindful and take great care of our special gift. If anything might happen to it, though, at least we have people who can try to help manage the burden of keeping it safe. Helping if it gets scratched, teaching us how to care for it, and keeping it clean and protected. As we get older it is put in our possession and we become completely responsible for its protection. We're told we only get one and we'd better be careful. With courage and confidence, we take what we have learned and carefully venture out into the world to practice all that we have been taught. Filled with wonder and hope, we trust that we have the tools to keep ourselves safe, while knowing that we will always have love and support behind us when needed. But that's how it should be...unfortunately for me, my crystal was scratched, dropped, damaged and left unprotected-yet I was given all of the same messages of caution to protect my one and only gift. So fearfully, I picked up every broken piece and shard I could find in hopes of just keeping them all together. It might not have been whole anymore but at least I had all of the pieces. I was too young to even know that they could be broken, let alone what to do with the pieces. I just clung to them, no matter how sharp, because I knew it was my responsibility, it was my fault I was broken. I should have been more careful. I tried to mend it so many times but I would just cut myself. As time went by I would drop some of the pieces that I couldn't hold onto any longer. There were other things to focus on; to hold. Temporary relief. Distractions. But they would only cause me to lose track of what I had left. Once I realized there were very few pieces remaining, I tried to go back and find them. Some little ones were recovered but mostly the pieces were too damaged or too hard to find, so I just left them. Every now and then I would examine what was left. Embarrassingly, all I had were unrecognizable shards stained with blood, sweat, and tears that I used to hold so tightly to them. Now I am desperately clinging to what shattered pieces I have left because it's all that I have. Fragments of what used to be, miniature reminders of what should have been whole, what should have been complete and beautiful. I was responsible for protecting my gift and this is all I have left. I can never let go of the only pieces that remain -even though it hurts and I am badly scarred from them, I simply cannot let go...

 "The most beautiful people we have known are those who have known defeat, known suffering, known struggle, known loss, and have found their way out of the depths. These persons have an appreciation, a sensitivity, and an understanding of life that fills them with compassion, gentleness, and a deep loving concern. Beautiful people do not just happen." -Elizabeth Kubler Ross

My Kryptonite...my achilles heel.

You know what really grinds my gears?

Not trusting my instincts. I would sooner declare myself a horrible, stupid, miserable bitch than trust that the situation I'm in is no bueno, or the person I'm talking to is actually an asshole. I'll think to myself, "Alright, this guy's a condescending prick" or "I don't like the way he said that to me" and I'll feel GUILTY for thinking that and change it to take the blame myself like,  "Oh my god, (my name), you are a complete bitch" or "seriously, (my name)?, get over yourself!" It makes me want to scream!  It happens everywhere. At work-I'll have a gut instinct about something and I'll ignore it, or not follow up on it, just to find out later that I WAS DEAD ON!! Like literally, exactly right. It's not like I'm in bad situations all the time-this is mostly in reference to my work, the people I date or the people my friends date, etc. Sometimes it will even lead to self-abuse. I don't know if it's a recreation or a reliving of "punishments" and experiences of when I was a child, or what. But I'll berate myself. I used to do a lot of self-harm (although I didn't consider it to be self-harm bc it wasn't the typical method). Now that I know what I'm doing I try to control it, but it's still like a natural response to my "stupidity", my mistakes. I'll even bring up past mistakes and punish myself again for it. Things that happened years ago, a decade ago even....it doesn't matter. I hate it. It's amazing, really, the number of thoughts I have. It's funny because I really don't think the average person could  handle it. I will go through this multiple times a day and still work a full day, handle other people's "stuff" and text my friends, email colleagues, drive where I need to go, have meetings, and everything else. Is this how it's meant to be for me? Like is this just the hand I was dealt? Is this something that I just have to live with? Or can it stop? Is it possible to change? Am I the only one with this shit or is this common for "survivors"?


I'm not even sure how to do this...consistently anyway.

 

How are people "kind to themselves" as a way of life? I can go like a day, maybe, or for a short amount of time. When it comes to myself, my natural reaction is to be hurtful. When it comes to other people, my instinct is to doubt, because of the way I think of myself. And I just have to laugh, because nobody really knows! 

This is how it feels

Sometimes lyrics are the only perfect way to capture my emotion. I can't verbalize it, I can't draw it, I can't write it....but this is how it feels. 

All those feelings you have inside of you. All those feelings you’ve hidden, don't keep them bottled up, ignored. Let them out. Set them free. Face them. Sit with them and sort them out. Don’t be ashamed or scared of how you feel. Figure out why, and decide what you’ll do with them. Feel. Feel everything.

 

~SS

Feisty...

 Today I would just like to vent.... ARGH!!!! Some people are so blind and it drives me absolutely insane. I think I'm a little on edge because the past few days I have been having nightmares again. I get really agitated when I have these dreams. They freak me out and I wake up in a panic and it takes several hours to truly calm down. But that's enough of that...what I'm really irritated with is this guy I'm sort of dating. He seems like a nice dude and I'm not picking up on any pressuring behaviors or anything like that...he has asked me two or three times "the story about my family" but I am not there yet, man. I don't trust ANYBODY with that information, and you just never know how it will be received. Anyway...I'm annoyed because he will say things in a "sweet" tone but I automatically think he's condescending and ignorant.  Example: I worked three jobs while I was interning so I could support myself....he said "Oh, are you a bit of a work-a-holic?" Noo....internships in my profession don't pay and I had "bills to pay and a mouth to feed, ain't nothing in this world is free" ...and I like to keep busy to avoid flashbacks, triggers, and nightmares (exhaustion was the only way I could sleep)...ain't no rest for the wicked. And then he "sympathizes" with me saying "Wow. I didn't realize that. that would've been rough as a student. i used to complain about my internship only paying $19/hour. Lol." and Yes. That was very nice, and I agree that he was trying to relate, but it made me MAD! I had to stop talking to him so I wouldn't overreact. Now looking back...not a big deal. I'm glad I didn't say anything I was thinking. I was all ready to get on my "hard work ethic" soap box and start a big sob story about working my ass off so I can remain financially independent from my abusers. But it's not the time. Sigh. Sexual, emotional, and financial abuse really does a number on sur-vi-vors...(I still have a hard time with that word). 

 Now I'm not sure this is right way to start thinking about people....but I don't want to have this fantasy of someone saving me and listening to my past and telling me that nobody will ever hurt me again... I don't want to bank on that happening. It's not likely. But maybe if I raise my expectations of myself I can set an example. ?? I don't know...maybe not. We'll see where the wind blows......

~SS

Inspiration

And the day came when the risk it took to remain tight inside the bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
 

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbled or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs and comes short again and again; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best, knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who, at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while DARING GREATLY so that his place shall never be with those timid souls who know neither victory nor defeat.

Back on track

Evil triumphs when good men do nothing....I love that quote. It has taken me a lifetime to be open to the idea that not every person on this earth is here to hurt me. I know how selfish that sounds, and I don't mean to be like that. It is just something I truly believed. I also believed I would never live this long...but that's another story. I am finding that there are some good people in this world. Many of them are evil and terrible but some of them have good hearts. I did not have people in my life to teach me the things this picture describes. Even if I had, I probably wouldn't have believed them. I am grateful for the wonderful people I do have in my life...now. My friends are simply amazing. I have had the opportunity to learn the goodness of people from my professors and teachers, colleagues, bosses, etc. (I even privately pretended to myself that they were "parent" figures to me) One time, the chair of the department where I studied and worked for a long time, took me for a walk around campus to scope out the best dorms for his daughter who was starting college the following year. This was, by far, the most powerful experience for me. I was walking with someone I had tremendous respect for, someone who respected me, someone who valued my input, someone who challenged me, someone who helped me grow ... In that moment I felt like I was walking with a father. He was listening to me and I saw the love in his eyes for his daughter. He knew her so well, and told me why she would or would not like certain aspects of the dorms. I was stunned. That was something I had never known before. Even now, it makes my cry just thinking about it. That was the day I learned that there are good men; good fathers.That day, love looked like something to me. I will never forget the many things I learned that day.

Two steps back

"I wonder if guardian angels cry when they see it all play out; and as they stand with their hands tied, do they cry out loud?"

I often find myself lamenting, "Why? Why did this have to happen? Why did nobody notice? Why didn't anybody save me? How could You (God) give this to me?" I have been told that those are words of a victim and not a survivor, but I can't help but feel and think them. I especially direct them toward a higher power...growing up Catholic did NOT help me out in this arena. I was always told that I must have been dreaming, how dare I say such things, I deserved it, I did something wrong, I was stupid enough to.... Some pictures and messages hanging around my house growing up said "Men don't buy appliances, they marry them." Women (and children) shouldn't speak unless spoken to, I should RESPECT my elders (aka abusers), better to be silent and appear a fool than to speak and remove all doubt, and here's the best one...it was placed on my mirror "You're looking at the problem". And people (well, I) wonder why I doubt my memories. The addicts who I grew up with, my "family",  those who are supposed to nurture, protect, and teach all of the lessons of life were the ones hurting me-and (inadvertently) teaching me that it's okay for other people to do the same... And I'm the one lying, I'm the one making up stories and dreaming. Only recently have I learned that those things are not normal...that most children do not grow up like I did. But these things fuel my secrecy. Apparently nobody knew. Nobody knows. And I have to maintain some sort of relationship with them. My extended family (whom I love dearly) battle with them, but I have to be the better person and keep up appearances. It makes me sick. I fantasize about removing them completely from my life, exploding with rage and spilling my guts ... but what about my niece...what about my nephew? I would take a bullet for them (and I pretty much do every time I'm in the same room as my immediate family). So what's the right thing to do? Sacrifice my healing by taking steps backward every single time I see them (it's been twice this week). Or risk my health, safety, sanity, and healing by cutting them out and explaining to my entire European family why.... ugh...I feel sick just thinking about it. It's paralyzing. It's exhausting. 

Debbie Downer!

Push and pull

I "know" that it's "normal" to feel conflicted. But let's be honest, it doesn't make daily life any easier. In fact, each day is a struggle. I work so hard at keeping a straight face most of the time...I can still feel the pain when I remember. Sometimes I think people can see right through me when I'm faking my way through the day. Maybe I just wish people could see it. As it turns out, I'm pretty damn good at painting on that face that tells everyone, "I'm fine! Nothing to see here."

I suppose that's why I'm just a secret survivor. I'm trying to go through this privately. My closest friends know bits and pieces of my struggle, but not even I know everything that I've been through. You know what really screws with me is this constant push and pull of "healing" and doubting. That's what I suffer from most... doubt. I doubt myself, my memories, my experiences, my abilities, my education, my thoughts, my every moment. It is a constant battle. Oh, I'm not the type of person who is going all "Woe is me" and "nobody understands" all of the time. I have some wonderful days and amazing experiences! The Debbie Downer in me just keeps reminding me that "it never lasts and it probably never will." This is an internal battle. I sabotage and punish myself. I "know" that's not good. But I can't control it. Sometimes I don't want to control it. I just let it take over me and just wait until it's done. hmmm....pretty pathetic, right? Well, it's just another day. Today was a pretty good day, all things considered. But I can't help but wonder if I will ever be at a point when I won't be exhausted from fighting an impossible battle with myself, when I trust my instincts, when I believe with 100% confidence in myself, or when I feel strong enough to allow myself to fully heal.

...these things take time.

My first steps

When we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard or welcomed.
But when we are silent, we are still afraid.
So it is better to speak.
~ Audre Lorde ~ 

Well, I suppose I should introduce myself to start. I would like to remain somewhat anonymous here, but I will say that I am in my mid-twenties, I have a European background, and I grew up in the mid-west. I am educated and work in the social services industry. More importantly, I am an abuse survivor, and this is my first time admitting that "publicly". I must admit, this is terrifying...

And that is where my blogging experience begins.
My goals for this blog are simple. Although some of them are selfish in nature, I mostly hope to offer some sort of support, provide information, or perhaps just another way to pass some time. There is a good chance that I will be only one reading these posts.  In the off chance that another survivor does stumble across this, I hope you find strength and healing each day.

“Don't wish me happiness-I don't expect to be happy it's gotten beyond that, somehow. Wish me courage and strength and a sense of humor-I will need them all.” 

~SS