Why we don’t tell!

It is hard to live with the loss of your innocence. Harder still when it is forcefully taken away without regard for consequences. Yet much as those things hurt, the greatest pain is the lack of belief on the part of those you love the most. Is it any wonder that it is so easy for our perpetrators to convince us to be quiet for so long. They know that few will believe us if we tell! They know that we will guard the secret of their violation and cruelty because we have to to survive!

Living with PTSD

At times, something pulls me into the muck at the bottom of the well. It threatens to pull me completely under with no possibility of escape. When that happens, all I can do to keep my head above the surface is not move! If I move, I sink deeper. It took me a long time to learn that the bottom of the well was a lot like quicksand. The only way to slow your descent into quicksand is not to struggle.

For months now, I have felt that pull. It has a paralyzing effect. Fear and panic are with me at all times. I long ago stopped fighting the two. I have learned to listen to their siren call. They are advanced warnings that another cycle begins and I must prepare for the next round of memory attacks. I never know what each round will bring; but, I now do not run from those memories. I will no longer allow them to own me as they once did in the past.

Just stop looking up!

One of the hardest things about living at the bottom of the well is dealing with the constant pain at the base of my neck! On days that things are too much, I simply just stop looking up! I used to think if I looked up often enough and hard enough, I would find another, better existence. But, those were the fanciful fanatasys of a child. Now I know better.

Floating memories

I don’t remember much of my childhood. There are chunks of memories or events that float in and out, always elusively teasing my consciousness. I think they do it to keep me going sometimes. Other times they do it to let me know I need to back off. There is a danger close at hand. What the danger is all about elusively hangs on the outer limits of my mind. It torments me constantly. I will remember them all one  day!

Out of the zone

I used to keep a journal all the time. That was in my “crazy” days. Those were the days when nothing seemed to come together. Thoughts just rambled. There was this weight on the back of my neck and shoulders that seemed intent on pole driving me into the ground. The top and back of my head felt like it was in one of those caps that swimmers wore. It almost felt like any second it was going to squeeze my brain out of my ears.

My mouth felt like it was full of cotton sucking up every drop of saliva. I just knew any second it was going to swell up and suffocate me. My vision felt blurred. Well, maybe not blurred as much as unable to focus in on specific items or people. My arms and legs felt weak, yet heavy. My chest had the feeling of being filled with dry hot air. There was the sensation that as the air cooled my lungs would implode!

Long hallways appeared to be slightly tilted to one side or the other. They had a surreal feeling to them. I often found myself stepping into a room and then back into the hallway again to be certain it really was a hallway! Elevators or vehicles produced the sensation of being in a box with all four sides quietly closing in on me at the same time. I tried to imagine I could make myself small enough that when the walls were completely closed in, I would not be crushed!

This was and is life “out of the zone!”