Joyful Insanity

I've posted a link at the end of this post to an article I read this morning that just made me so mad. My personal experience with child advocacy/abuse representatives was awful. They want you to go into complete detail of every little thing. They want to know of all the times it happened, where you were, what was done and how you responded to the situation. They ask if you fought back, if you liked the feelings it gave you, and why didn't you say something sooner. The thing they apparently don't consider is this: What person, who has been so violated, wants to describe the humiliating, devastating and nauseating details? You can hardly come to terms that it even happened. Obviously you know what you went through, but thinking about it is torture. Talking about it to strangers in a weird room without your family for support (because they aren't allowed to be there) is not the most inviting situation. I couldn't bring myself to say where Drew touched me. They didn&#

   I wish I could go back in time as an adult and walk in on one of my memories. I wish I could go back and do something to protect that child. I wish I could catch him in the act so I could unleash the rage that I still have. I'm at a point right now where I can think about the things I suffered through and see it from an outsiders view. Does that make sense? Instead of feeling hurt that it happened to me, I'm pissed that a child had to go through that. It's no longer just about me and my pain, it's about the poor children that have to endure the abuse. In my memories I see so many innocent kids who are scared, confused and hopeless. Millions of people have been abused, how many of them are STILL scared, confused and hopeless?    Through my blogging I've heard from people who have experienced sexual abuse, rape, emotional and physical abuse. I've been thanked for sharing my story because it makes them feel less lonely. It gives them hope that maybe someday th

  It's been nearly one month since I started blogging. I honestly can say I didn't know what to expect. I knew it was going to be difficult, but I didn't prepare myself for just how hard it would be. I started it because I had to get my thoughts out. The first couple of weeks were the most difficult. I thought I'd just be embarrassed, but it turns out that's the least of it. I've been angry, deeply hurt, more sad and vulnerable than I've ever been and lastly, relieved. My memories don't feel so heavy and scary now that I've shared them. They don't have the power they used to and I love it. I have other things I need to tackle, and I still plan on seeing a psychologist, but for now I feel like I have a grasp on that part of my life right now. I haven't been blogging mostly because I've been so dang busy, but partly because I don't know where to go with this now. All of my posts up until this one have been so emotionally driven. I'd

I'm reading an amazing book right now. It's called Hush by Nicole Braddock Bromley. I'm only about half way through it but it's helped me understand my situation more. Brandon has been reading it too and I'm thankful for his support. Through her words he's able to understand the things I can't explain. The first chapter in I wasn't sure I'd be able to get through the book. I felt a bit of panic several times, and I'm sure I'll experience more. I also feel, I don't know, like I belong to a community of people who are struggling to get through life with this burden. Obviously I know I'm not the only person going through this, but it's almost never talked about. Even after the secret is out you keep things quiet and tucked away in the farthest corner of your mind. It's been crazy reading a book that so perfectly explains my thoughts. She's given statistics of abuse survivors and it's just disgusting how many people are hu

Drew really confused me. He treated me nicely. He'd do things to keep me happy. He had me convinced that everyone else was out to harm me. He always had my best interest in mind. He said I could always talk to him about anything. He'd always be there for me. He bought me so many things. If I saw a commercial for a new toy and wanted it, we'd go straight to the store. Eventually he started to bribe me. Sometimes it was with toys or clothes, other times it was with food and treats. When I was a little older I knew without a doubt that what he was doing was wrong. I also knew I had no control over what he did. So I began demanding specific things. Bikes, roller blades, Barbie houses. Doing this made me feel like I had a little control. I hated that I'd get rewards for the abuse but I felt stuck in it and I got to a point where I had to accept that I wasn't able to stop him. I had two choices. I could either keep on going through abuse, just do what he said when he said

A week ago I had a complete breakdown. The kind where you sink into the floor and wish it would just absorb you. I wasn't thinking of killing myself, but I wouldn't have minded if I died. Anytime I was driving alone I'd think maybe this is the time I could be hit by a car running a red light. I needed to feel pain. Physical pain is what I wanted. I understand it really wouldn't have helped anything, but I felt like I needed that to distract me from the emotional turmoil. I wanted to stop existing. Fall into a coma and sleep the pain away. Brandon would ask me to talk to him, to tell him what I was feeling and thinking. There were no words to explain how I felt. For the first time in a very long time I was back at stage one. I couldn't deny the pain of the things that I went through. Years and years of barriers had been knocked down and I felt lost, lonely and afraid. I questioned everything. Why did it happen to me? Why did I keep the secret for so long? Why was I e