I think I missed something...?

I talked with my little sister 2 days ago and have been feeling really confused ever sense. My little sister and I have a strange relationship. Growing up I detested her but I don't think it was really anything she did that made me feel this way towards her. I think that it was mostly if not wholly due to her father. Her father is among my list of abusers and she unfortunately looks just like him, not so much any more but when she was younger she was his spitting image. I know now that I was not very fair to her and I regret it every day. She told me that she hated me until mom told her that he hurt me. Then she said she felt so bad (she is a survivor also), I told her I didn't blame her. I really don't but I think I might have back then, just a little bit but once again not because of anything she did. It was all displaced anger, anger that now I can't even tap into. There is so much that's all trapped inside me. Anyhow, we had talked on an occasion before about her father and the abuse. I did not know that she even knew about it as she was so little when it was happening, but she told me that mom had told her. I was shocked, this was an "unspeakable" subject ( or at least for me it was but everyone else was allowed to talk about it). I asked how she told her, for some reason I just needed to know this, why I don't know but I needed to know.

She said that she just told her. She said mom was sitting in the living room watching TV and did a "by the way" type thing and said that she thought she was old enough and should know. Not really that shocking, this was never something that was important to my mother and I was ok with her knowing I felt she had a right to know also. She said that's pretty much all mom said about it, then she said that mom told her that she (lil sis) should think about forgiving him because after all he is her father and that some day she might want to have a relationship with him. She said that she did not want to but that mom was suggesting it. This conversation took place a few months ago. I was so confused. Up until this point I never thought that my mother did not believe me but I started to question it. Why in the world would you want your child to have a relationship with someone the hurt your other child, for the life of me I can not figure it out. Why she would even suggest it.

It hurt, made me feel so small and insignificant. Why does she hate me so much or more importantly why doesn't she love me? These are the question that swirl around in my head all the time.

So 2 days ago we talk again. I asked her if she had seem him, she said know but asked why I ask. I told her that every time I come home I panic and it so much worst if I have to go anywhere because I never know who I could run into around the corner. Then she tells me that mom is still pushing her to have a relationship with him. Telling her to go find him and ask him for things. My heart started crying. Again I was back to the why? I can not fathom it. If some one hurt my child I would have a hard time being ok with them still being alive, but never in a million years would I encourager a relationship with them for one of my other children. Do I really just mean nothing to her, does it not matter what he did to me. I am starting to think that she had talked to him over the years. Someone said to me that its possible that he said I initiated it. If my mother did talk to him I have no doubts what so ever that she asked him about it. I always figured that he would just deny it, I never ever thought him saying I started it as a possibility. I mean I blame myself but I never, even to myself thought that I started it. I never went to him, never. I just didn't do anything to try to stop it.

It really gave me something else to think about as a possible possibility as to her behavior. I know it is purely speculation on my part because I will never know what the hell when on in her head. Well I have to stop here because it hurts to much...

Mail Call

As most of you know I have been waiting for an important letter from school. The letter that dictates my life for the next 2 and a half years. Yesterday, I went out to campus(I don't have class on tuesdays) just to see if that freaking letter was maybe, somehow put in my campus mail instead of sent to my house. No letter there. When I got home the mail hadn't gotten there yet so I went on with my usually meanderings and runnings and some how forgot to check the mail. Went to work still wondering as I have been stressing over this sense Aug 25. Anyhow get home from work, check the mail. There is a letter from my college, my heart started racing I knew this was it. I debated for a moment on weather to open it or wait til the next day then It was like "who the heck am I kidding" took a deep breath and ripped it open. It says as fallows:

Dear (My name),

Congratulations! It is my pleasure, on behalf of the Nursing Department faculty, to offer you admissions to the nursing program...

YAY!!! *jumps for joy* Soooo freakin happy!!!!!

I didnt read the rest of the letter till later but you get the jest of it.

Just wanted to share my good news with all of you, I needed this in my life right now gives me something to help me totally refocus and work harder for cause I have totally been slacking. Yet somehow still holding a 3.75 not sure how that happened *scratches head* not that I'm complaining but now I will actually strive to get the 4.0

New pic

If you have been checking my blog I am certain that you noticed the new pic I put up. Originally I planned to put a thousand words up along with it....but well, that just didn't happen. Believe it or not I actually started that post but I just couldn't finish it. It's not that I didn't know what to say. In fact, I knew exactly what I wanted to say...the problem was just figuring out how to word the mumbo jumbo in my head to make it make sense for the rest of you. Even know writing this I have no idea how to say it. The title and that caption pretty much say all that I need to say. The picture itself says many things. So instead of going along with my original thought, I will attempt to say what that represents for me.

I spent sometime searching the web for that pic. It's not exactly what I wanted it to be, but I think it is as close as I'm going to get... less drawing it myself (which won't happen because I lack creative bones) or have someone else draw it....which poses a whole different issue. To have someone else draw it means I would have to "describe" the scene. At this stage in my healing there is a greater chance of pigs flying independently that my describing it. *chuckles* So I settled for the one posted. I actually shared that image with a dear friend before posting because I was unsure about it. I'm sure some people are offended by it. I know it is a strong image, and that is exactly what I wanted.

I wanted something that showed what it was like to be the scared little kid laying there just waiting for their body to be violated. The child has such a blank look on her face, she is not present. That spoke volumes to me. I know that look, that feeling...to leave your body because you know the horrible thing that is about to happen. Yet you are helpless to it. He will not stop until he gets what he wants, so you just lay there and wait. To feel his weight on top of you, and know whats coming. Yet you just lay there and wait. To feel the pressure as he starts to violates you, yet you still just lay there...then everything goes blank.



That is how it was for me anyhow. I do not remember the part that follows of my abuse. I don't think I was really "present" when that was going on, but I do know that it happened. I have a few memories of what seem like "floating", kinda watching what was happening but from up in a corning in the ceiling. I could see everything but it was more like watching a movie with me in it thought I was not really present. ( if that makes sense).

Another thing about this pic that I really like is that there are no visible doors, not escape. Some how you go into the situation yet there is no way out. I also like how the lighting kinda give one the sense of eminent doom. Maybe that's just me.

A very strong image yes, and for me I think at this point in my healing is as far as I'm going to get with sharing my story. There is so much more than what I have said here that that picture represents for me. I think this is all for now.( oh and only 606 words so I did not met my original challenge, just a note *lol*)

Mush for Brains

For the past several days, I have felt as if I am on the verge of a mental break down. It seems to only have gotten worst. I feel as though my life is a great big game of "ring around the Rosy" and I'm at the part where "they all fall down". Between dealing with financial issue (who doesn't have those right) to school, to family, and personal, I just don't seem to be able to handle it anymore. My plate is full, over flowing and completely unbalanced, one slight shift and its to topple over.

Today I had a paper due in my Psy class(fundamentals of counseling theories). My paper was suppose to be in the Freudian style on my imposed client. If you know anything about Freud, his basic theory is driven by sex and sexual desire, a not so great subject for me. I didn't do it because I just plan flat out couldn't concentrate. My mind felt completely void of all knowledge. I'd sit down, look at it and I couldn't understand what the heck I was suppose to be doing. It frustrated me so I eventually gave up. I know myself, when things get like this I just need to go to sleep...give my brain some down time as its always moving 90 miles a min when Im awake. Sleep help me regain control over my meandering thoughts that seem to go in every direction other than the one I wish/will them. It was getting the better of me so I decided to go to bed. I had planned to work on it in the morning but of course something had to screw that plan up. My DD's decided today would be a great day to miss the bus. I was irritated all over again. Went back to "busy brain" and clouded thoughts focused on the abuses.

I went to class paperless, having debated the idea of just not showing up, which in my opinion is bowing out, almost a form of cowardness. So I show up to class empty handed ready to accept my fate. Fate was kind to me(for once), we had this in class assignment about what roles we play, we were suppose to color(yes with crayons) how we felt about the roles we played and what hats we wear. I'm on the verge of break down so mine isn't at all pretty. Profs. comes around as we are drawing and then getting in to small group to discus. She looks at mine and I was explaining to my partner that I didn't do my paper because X,Y, Z and on the verge of this break down, I was shaking. Profs. says that its ok about the paper and that she will help with with it.

For once I feel connected with someone, I remind you all that my Profs. is also a T. Which is good and bad. Good because I'm the crazy type that she is use to dealing with, bad because I'm the crazy type that she is use to dealing with. I connected with a T hurray. That's good right, nope. I know that you are suppose to "shop" per-say for a good fit with a therapist, so why is it that the one I feel connected to, safe with, relaxed, and actually comfy with the only one that's NOT an option. Not an option for 2 reasons.

1. Shes my professor and I'm not certain as to the ethics involved there.
2. She is a catholic therapist, Not that that really means anything but for me it makes me feel like I should catch fire as soon as I set foot in her office.

There is a 3rd reason also, that I would never ask but its the former far more than the latter why its never going to happen.

I quit T with Sally last week. Not really because things were getting hard(they were) but because of a statement she made that triggered me pretty bad and sent me in a total self-devouring down spiral. I never know when "mother" issues will pop up for me. The statement she made was that of a similar, if not identical one made by my mom when she was not wanting to deal with "my issues". It totally gave me all the same bad feelings I got when mom was talking to, I should say at me about not being over it yet. Thinking about it now that I have regained more of my better judgement I know that it's most likely not intended the way it was perceived. However the "hurt" side of me is very non-forgiving. I have had so many bad T experiences that I'm not sure I want to chance anymore.

Profs. suggest that I give it another try and that Sally is "seasoned" and has helped many other people with my same history. Profs. speaks very highly of Sally, but I just don't feel connected with her. I know the logically hearing that someone is has alot of experience or is "seasoned" should be encouraging. For me, it's more like panic in a jar just waiting for the right moment to pop the lid off. It makes me feel small and unimportant. Im sure this is more a me thing than anything else. I know she has heard worst just as well as I know that others have gone through far worst, but I can't think about that....its part of the reason why I struggle with being vocal. That very reason, that others have been through worst, was one of mother basic agruements against my "dwelling" on the abuse. Anyhow I think this is all Im going to do for now.

Can of Worms

I am taking this Psy class : Counseling theory. I really like this class but I'm starting to question if I how is really the best time to take it. Last week we did this activity called Free Association Words. Basically there are 21 word, someone reads you a word and then you are suppose to say the first thing that comes to mind. Now allowed to ponder it. So we did this in class and then she (prof) read some of them for us to show us how it works. And of course I volunteered cause I wanted to see how in the world you could figure anything out about a person from answers to 21 words. Words like tree, blue, purple, car, cat...ect. Just pretty much words that I myself would never think anyone could figure anything out off.

So I give her mine and she reads my answers to the words aloud. She pauses and tells me not to answer. Then she starts analysing it and says that from my answers it seems that I'm in or have been in a sticky and rough situation and that Im trying to figure out what to do about it. That I feel trapped, but really want to start over. She said more but I can't remember it exactly as she said it, but I started to freak out. I knew she was referencing to the abuse. ( I did get clarification after class as to what she was referring to and she told me that she wasn't going to say it in class because she wanted this to be a safe place for me. She didn't exactly say that she knew but she said that she had a pretty good idea, oh and she is a T also) Naturally I spent the rest of the class in a state of shock as well as panic trying to figure out how the hell she figure all that out with just 21 words. Words that I would think have no specific significance to most people. I felt so naked and totally exposed.

Is it that obvious. I felt like she picked my brain and exposed my deepest secrets. As I said before I talked to her after class and she assured me that its not that obvious, that she'd been doing this for over 30 years and had a pretty good track record. That answer did not feel sufficient enough for me as to how the hell she figured all that out. The logical side of me tells me that its quit possible, and that that is the most likely solution. To totally impractical side of me says that it must be writing on my forehead and all one had to do is look hard enough to see it clearly.

It has been almost a week sense we did that exercise in class and it's still really bothering me. I feel the same way I did when all this resurfaced back in Nov. when it took only a small conversation with a co-worker to open the can of worms. I thought the feeling was that she blew up my fortress but now I am coming to realize that that is incorrect. The feeling is more that of someone has infiltrated my still intact fortress. I think that's worst. Instead of opening the can of worms she simply started to take the lid off. My prof. opened it some more. I am desperately afraid to take the lid all the way off. However I am starting to get the feeling that now is the time. Like I no longer have the option of putting the lid back on. I don't like it! I know I know this is long pat due for being dealt with.
I am noticing that it seems to be more and more present lately. I mean, I haven't really had nightmares in a while, but it seems to be coming up a lot more. My mind feels saturated with it to the point that I contemplated actually talk (verbally) to my sis. I have to say that signals a huge red flag, that its time. My mind no long wants to hold on to it but I don't know it Im strong enough. Well I guess that's all the ramblings I have for now.

Mother

Well I figured it was probably about time to do this, I actually started this post on another site. I wanted to put it here as its a big part of the how and why I dealt with the abuse the way I have. There will deffinately be updates to this as I write more when I can. This is a real struggle for me and a very touch topic but here goes. Oh and I'll add all the new stuf at the top and dotted above the old stuff so you dont have to re-read it if you do want to.



I had always thought my mom to be an extraordinary women. By the time she was 18, she was married, had three kids and her husband had died. (I never knew my father...he passed while mom was still pregnant with me) She raised us the best she knows how. For the most part she did a great job, my siblings and I are all doing well so far as you can see from the outside looking in. We are all, either in college or have graduated from college, have good jobs, stayed out of trouble, never been to jail or did any drugs. From that perspective she did great. Mom and I never had a real close relationship. I was the youngest of 3. I think she had some resentment towards me from the begining because...being that my dad passed, I as just another burden. Not only that but I have health problems. I was sick a lot, always in and outta the hospital. I was also a very emotional child. I believe that most started when I was 5 or 6, right about the time the abuse started with my brother. Things only got worst as I got older. I was compared a lot to my older sis who was like the "ideal daughter".

When I was 9 mom meet ...him. He was a nice guy. Mom was so happy, she had found a guy that treated her good, had a good job and didn't mind that she had so many kids. We were excited to, he didn't mind doing family things, we were finally going to be a normal family with a loving father. The father that had been missing from our lives for so long. We were the "happy family" for the next 3 and a half years, I remember us asking him if we could call him "dad" as he was the first father figure we had. When I was 11 he started hurting me. He left the summer after my 12th birthday a few months after the abuse stopped, I don't know if he left or if she kicked him out. I remember mom making us go see him and telling us to be good cause she wanted him to come back. She told us to show him that we loved him and want him to come home. I never said anything about him hurting me till I was 14, 2 years after it stopped. That's when everything took a nose dive. I had told my older sis a very little about what happened, she said that I had to tell mom and that if I didn't then she would. So I wrote a letter saying that he hurt me and I was sorry for not telling, and please don't be mad at me....left it on her dresser and left for school.

When I got home, her first reaction was to yell at me, call me stupid. Still yelling she told me that I was stupid for not saying anything and that she thought she taught us to open our mouths and say something if someone was hurting us. My image of my mother was shattered. From that instant on I always felt like she hated me.

I really did think she hated me. Everything in her actions said so. I mean at firsts after the initial shock of being yelled at wore off I saw my mom differently. It was like the anger that it happened was no long pointed at me, but rather refocused in to "getting me better". Mom took me to get evaluated to see if I had really been telling the truth. She never once said she was sorry that it happened, never hugged me. She did mention that it must have been hard to go see him that day but other than that she was totally distant from me. After the results of the evaluation I started therapy. Mom was very supportive of me going to therapy, she said that she didn't want me to be all messed up about this for the rest of my life....news flash...pretty much am!!!!!.....anyhow she took me religiously, once a week to see Angela. She never stayed for my session and most of the time I was to take a cab home. Eventually I had to get there of my own accord.

I don't really remember to much about the days that followed the letter it was just all to terrible, I felt terrible....after all it was all my fault as I did nothing to try and stop it. This was the method of thinking of my 14 year old brain.( and yeah pretty much still think this way) Everything hurt. I felt like I betrayed his trust by telling, even thought it was something he himself had encouraged me to do if....and this is a big if.... I wanted it to stop. By not telling, he took the notion that I did not want it to stop, a fact he seemed pleased with. It was all so confusing. I hated myself, hated the fact that I had ruined so many peoples impression of him...ruined the image of our once "happy family". I knew that my telling would also secure that my little sister never see her father-something that really devastated me and pleased me all at the same time.

I'm not sure (timewise) but I felt I was slowly starting to crack, apparently others could see this too as one of the school counselors called me into her office. This was something that never happened before. She asked me what was wrong and I told her that I wanted to die....*apparently they take this kinda thing seriously...(shrugs) who knew* I was not allowed to leave the office and she said she had to call my mom, this was really not going to make things better. Between the school counselor , my therapist, and my mother...it was decided that I was a threat to myself and I should be send away to a nut house(mental hospital). I was sent away for 5 1/2 week-something that probably really saved my life. Mom came and seen me a few times the first week then hardly at all after that. It was a very nice vacation but I longed to have a normal life again.

Being there was to much of a reminder of just how abnormal I was. The weekend before I was released I was allowed to go on a home visit. To my dismay, mom had already gotten a new boyfriend and he was living there. I was really nervous and scared about being there with me. He told me right away that he was not like mom's ex and would never ever lay a hand on me like that. It was not very comforting and when I told mom that I was scare of being there with him, she said that he wasn't like that so I didn't have to worry. She didn't make him leave or ask him to stay somewhere else, it was just something I had to deal with. During my visit she left me home alone with him. I was terrified, nothing happened but that's a hell of a way to test your new boyfriend and put your child thru hell- in my humble opinion anyway. When I was released that was pretty much the end her support not that it was much to begin with.

Struggles

Ok so I admit I have been totally neglecting my blog. I do come it just about every day...look at it and think to myself " I should write today or it's time for an update" but the problem is that I don't. I can't. I have slipped back in to the "don't tell" and "no one wants to hear about that your bothering people" pool. The vortex in getting closer, the waters deeper, the waves are rocking and I'm slipping under. I'm still trying to figure out how to get myself out of these sinking waters. I had therapy today unexpectedly.


I went in to see Sally (T) as I was on my hour lunch break and had missed my previous appointment because I had to take my son to the ER. She said that she had a free hour and wanted to see me. It was right then and there, shocking to me and interesting all the same as I had no time to actually panic. We talked about random stuff. Then she asked me about emails. I had expressed to her in our first meeting that I'm not good with verbal communication so having an email was a great way for me to communicate with her the things that I know I can not say. However I guess I failed to also tell her that I have this inherent fear of bothering people with my issues. Thus I have not sent her an email yet. She asked me why I felt that way? My answer was..because its against the rules. So she ask me...Who's rules are those because they certainly are not your. She says that I'm still listening to someone else's rules. That kind of irritated me. Then she says that I need to name this thing that keeps me from talking and have a conversations with it. Freaky!! To tell you the truth, the idea of doing that kinda scares the hell outta me.

I don't thing I'm ready to face this thing, I feel weak against it.

Anyhow I have been thinking about this idea of naming it ever sense. so far, I am pondering a few...I thought about something that would describe how it feels to me but that wouldn't be something I couldn't actually say in confrontational context. So far I have come to the assertion that its some sort of bug, kinda like the bug that was extracted from Neal in "The Matrix" ...if you haven't seen it, its a great movie. Ok so I just came up with a name, I will call it NATT for Not Allowed To Talk. Thanks for the help E, :D. ok well I guess thats the end of my ramblings for now.

Interview with me

Ok so I know it took me a while to get to this but I was pondering the best way to answer some of them, but here it is.

Instructions - if you would like to be interviewed
1. Leave me a comment saying "Interview me."
2. I will respond by emailing you five questions. I get to pick the questions.
3. You will update your blog with a post containing your answers to the questions.
4. You will include this explanation and an offer to interview someone else in the same post.
5. When others comment asking to be interviewed, you will ask them five questions.

My Questions -

1. What makes you smile? This is kind of an easy one. One thing that always makes me smile is my sons happy face.

2. You have a picture of your son on your blog - what is one piece of practical parenting advice you would give to someone else? I had my son pic up but I took it down. I wanted it there originally cause it was something that made me happy but it also distracts away from the true purpose of this blog. One practical parenting advice would be to cherish every milestone your child makes. They only get to grow up once and these are special no matter how trivial they may seem.

3. Why the pictures on the side of your blog? Pick one and explain the significance. As I said before I wanted to use this as a tool in my healing. Every pic that I have up is connected to the feeling I so desperately try to escape. I wanted to be honest with myself and everyone following my journey. All those images speak to me as to how I am feeling or have felt. Most are reoccurring. If I had to pick one and explain it I would pick the "My Soul-Broken". This was is the first on my list as its the truest to how I feel. When the abuse started I felt like my being was shattered. If you look closely at the pic, you will notice that there is a reflection of a child. This is my inner child. You will also notice that there are pieces missing. My abusers took form me so it is not whole. Whenever I share my secret with someone I feel like I'm giving them a piece of my soul, many of the people that I have share with have refused to talk to me anymore because of "my secret", thus taking those pieces with them. I don't know if I can ever be whole again.

4. Why nursing? Why are you pursuing a degree in nursing? What do you want to do with it? As a child I was sick a lot, I am a chronic asthmatic. I was in and out of the hospital a lot. There were so many great nurses and also some not so good ones. I wanted to touch someone else's life as mine was. I want to make a difference and show some one else the same level of compassion that was given to me in my most dire times. Also because I have a great interesting in medical equipment, its always fascinated me, how these devices can sustain lives that might otherwise have been extinguished.

I want to specialize in Neonatology. When my son was born he stopped breathing and was rushed to the NICU. Even before he was born I knew this was my calling, however seeing it from the parents side, I think will make me a better nurse for that level because I can truly understand what they are going through.

5. How do you feel about your dream 1-2 days after it? Any more insight? I still really hurt about that dream. I think perhaps there is something inside me that want me to come to terms with the fact that mom will never been the mother I needed her to be. It was suggested to me by a dear friend that it was me represented in all 3 aspects. My inner child is the hurt me still seeking a mother, then the adult me that had given up on my mother, and lastly me as the mother the I always needed. This take make sense to me but I'm still not sure what to think.

Children are Amazing

Today we took our son to the mall. Our mall just got a new play area with extra cushion floor, an ideal place to let a 7 1/2 month old roll around. We decided to shop around a little first. I am not a shopper, in fact I hate shopping. My DP says I'm a lot like a guy when it comes to shopping. I usually know exactly what I want, go straight for it and am then ready to check out shortly after I have it. I am not one for idly traipsing up and down every row just to see whats new. I do browse, sometimes but its get old and tedious fast for me. My DP is just the opposite, she loves shopping, browsing, traipsing and ever element of shopping (except paying that's usually what I do ...go figure). Her and I rarely go shopping shopping because I get bored and irritated easily with it.



Anyhow, we finally make our was to the play area. It was mostly deserted (which I liked), park the stroller and go in. We put him on the floor and scatter toys all around him but just out of reach, he sits there a min and then starts to do his usually army crawl scoot thing. We had been trying to entice him to crawl crawl( on hands and knees) for a couple weeks as he would be starting daycare soon (sad face) and I did not want to miss it. I took my glasses off, normal for me as I hate wearing them and can see fairly well with out them ( which is why I always misplace them..lol) and put them on the floor next to me but out of his reach. He is your typical baby, always interested in things that he shouldn't have my glassed being one of them. DP and I are talking, Cj is in between us on the floor...next thing I notice is he is crawling. Doing the actually crawl crawl and headed straight for my glasses.



It was such a wonderful moment that touch my heart. I remember when he was first born and the elation I felt then hearing his first cry, the panic and fear that struck my heart moments later when he stopped breathing and a NICU team came in and swept him away. Followed by the longest 3 hours of my life waiting to hear news on this precious little miracle that came into my life and was quickly taken away. Looking back I remember many firsts, like the first time I held him, the first time his tiny little hand closed around my finger. The first time he held his head up, rolled over, sleep thru the night (hurray for that one!), held his own bottle, sat up, ate solid foods, pulled up on something, and now crawling.



Every day he is doing something new, every day I look at this tiny little human that cries when I leave the room and bounces around excitedly when I come back. He smiles captivate me, his laughter makes my heart smile, he is real. The child I thought I would never have. He amazes me everyday. Looking in to his eyes I can see all the hopes and dreams of the future. It really does make you see just how precious life is.

Reality of dreams

Last night I lay in bed alone. Well I wasn't completely alone I took my 7 month old in with me. I had had a particularly difficult day and was just running it through my head. I've yet to figure out what to do about my relationship, but that is not the topic of this post. I was thinking about my childhood, the relationship with my mother and her attitude towards me after I told. She was so cold. She had this "thats what you get" attitude. She didn't care that he hurt me. I have always felt that she was mad that I didn't tell right away, like perhaps if I had then she would have cared but because I didn't then I guess I learned my lesson and would know to "open my mouth"the next time.

She never once told me that she was sorry that it happened, or hugged me and told me everything would be ok. Most of what I got from my mom was more pain. (Later down the road I will post a lot about mom.) I cried myself to sleep last night. I hate crying, for more than one reason. First because I feel like its a sign of weakness....totally not true I know but I still have to convince myself that sometimes. Second because crying means I am somewhat connected to my feeling.....feeling what are those!?!? thats now I feel about that( no pun intended). Third, because I have always felt that I don't have a right to cry. So I cried myself to sleep and had the strangest dream.

I say it's a bad dream, the dream it's self was good, something I've been longing for but the reality that it wasn't real made it very very bad. There is also an oddity about this dream which I will explain about little later.

My Dream:

My partner and I had broke up and I was moving back home. I was really sad, I didn't want to be back home but for some reason thats where I went. I went upstairs to the room that use to be mine and my sisters growing up. It was exactly like it was when we were kids and had our bunk beds in it. I went in and started cleaning and putting my things away. There was a room off of the bedroom that was my moms, like you had to walk through my bedroom to get to the other room( its not like this in real life). Mom comes in and starts talking to me. Then this is the oddity, there is this child that comes in. Shes small, looks to be about 6 or 7. She looked very sad. She looked rundown, had scrapes, cuts and bruises all over her body. I could see this yet she was fully dressed. At first I thought it was my daughter but some how I knew it wasn't. She looked at me. She had my eye's but it was not me. ( I think this is my inner child, why she showed herself to me I'm not sure, I have an idea though) She looked so sad, did not speak but climbed to the top bunk( which use to be my bed) and vanished.

Meanwhile mom was talking to me. She mentioned that I hadn't been around the house in a while. She was saying something but I'm not sure what. Then she grabbed me and started hugging me. She told me that she was sorry for all that she had done to me, for not being there for me. She knew now that I wasn't emotionally ready and she was so sorry. So sorry for everything that she said to me. I started crying, everything inside me hurt. She held me tighter and told me that she would make it up to me and that she would always be there for me from now on. I felt safe, I finally felt like it wasn't my fault and that she didn't blame me anymore

Then I woke up, I had been crying in my sleep. It hurt so much to realize it was just a dream, that mom still hated me, still blamed me and that it was still all my fault. That made the hurt 10 time worst. The child in my dream I believe was my inner child. I think I knew that all along but didn't realize the significance of her presents until I really thought about it. I think, she showed up because this is something that she really need to heal. She has never grown. She is still the same size I was when the abuse first started, yet she has lived through all of it. She is still longing for a mothers love, something I have given up on.

Betrayal

So today I am talking to my best friend. Her and I hadnt been talking because my partner and her had become "buddy buddy". I have this thing, where...call me selfish but I don't want my bestfriend to be my partners bestfriend. I don't care if they are friends. As they should be, but I dont want my bestfriend to be the person my partner is always running to and confiding in. Anyhow...I guess my partner told my best friend that she cheated on me. I have sense confronted her on this issue.

See, my partner is forever insistent that I am cheating on her. She has had that made up in her mind for a while now. She told me that my b.f. said that she was concerned for her ( partner). That she thought I might be cheating on her because of something I told her about a co-working. I never said anything about cheating! So my partner tells her that she cheated on me. That she had a moment of weakness.

My world feels like it is falling apart. I confronted DP about this and she claims that she never said she cheated on me. She claims that she never told her that she had a moment of weakness. However when confronted in front of my B.F. she says that she only said it because she thought I cheated and wanted me to hurt like she was. She told me that she didn't want to do it, that she was forced to. She has still been talking to this person and she (DP) says that it happened 2 years ago but didn't want to tell me about it them because I said that if she ever cheated on me I would leave her. Which is true, I did say that. The story of what happened has changed so many times I don't know what to believe. I feel betrayed and very angry.

I don't understand how you can go from cheating to someone hurting you. They are not the same, not even on the same page. I feel very torn. Being a survivor myself, my first instinct when anyone says that someone hurt them like that...I want to believe them with out question. I feel so confused. I don't want to think that my B.F. would lie to me but at the same time I don't I do not want to think that anyone would lie to me.

The frustrations of indecision

I had sat down at the computer several times yesterday with many thoughts in my head intending to write some. Each time, I had careful figured out the wording, and order in which to put things. When I actually log in and start to type, I change my mind. I feel like I have completely drawn a blank. What it is that I was going to say no long seems to be valid or important.

This is what immediately takes place in my head whenever I think of sharing my thoughts/feelings especially when it's related to the abuse.

Oh I really want to get this out, its really bothering me. It would be good to get it out. Wait, its not really that big of a deal. I think I'm over reacting about it. Maybe I should just keep it to myself. Yes, keep it to yourself, no one would want to hear about it. It's not important. It's stupid, I cant allow myself to bother anyone with this.

It frustrates me that I can not simply sit here and empty my mind without second guessing the importance or validity of my thoughts.

Introduction

This is my very feeble attempt at actually starting my blog. I have had it for a couple weeks but not posted on it. So here goes. First all Hi! If you are reading this most likely you have ran across it by accident. I am a 26 yr old (soon to be 27) college student working on my BSN (nursing). I am married, have a 7 month old son and 2 step daughters whom I love very much. My son is my world, I can't remember what life was like before him...it seems like he's always been a part of my life.

Ok, so now to the real reason for this blog. I am a survivor. I am hoping to use this as a tool in my healing. Perhaps that is why I have not really started it before. Remembering, reliving, telling are all very hard things to do but I am determined (at least for now) to try to work through some of these past demons. I know this is going to be a long slow, if not sometimes stagnate journey but I invite you all to come along with me. One of my goals for this blog is to be totally open about my feeling, the good, the bad and the really ugly.

My original idea was to make this a private blog, but beings that openness and telling is something that I need to work on I will leave it open and put it all out there.