The Haven ~ For survivors of child abuse.

[mylaceratedheart]

No prizes for guessing that I am one.

I have been opening up about my past here in a way I have never been able to before and it has been truly cathartic. It occurs to me however that I have never really talked with other abuse survivors and there must be others out there, other voices, seeking themselves.

So I'm here. I log in most days now and I'd love to talk with others who have survived terrible childhoods and are rebuilding themselves as adults. If you feel unable to post here, you are very welcome to pm me.

Apologies if there's already a thread like this but I did a search and didn't find one. Gil_T2's thread appears to be about domestic violence rather than child abuse.

 

[cromsgirl]

What type?

Do you mean physical, mental, or sexual abuse? Or all of the above? I was sexually abused by my father ( although it was never intercourse). I wasn't physically abused, never even spanked. Through my adulthood I realized that he was just completely screwed in the head and wanted to "introduce" me to sex so I wouldn't be afraid of it. He could have used a lot of therapy. I probably could too but I can't afford it.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

All of the above. For me they are all interlinked anyway. I was abused by my father in many ways but they were all part of the same goal for him. I'd expand on that but it's 1.30am here and I'm just logging off. I'll try and put together something more coherent tomorrow. I suppose I should be the first to bare my soul here.

Thanks for posting though, it really means a lot.

 

[unregistered]

 

[KarennaC]

I think there have been posts on Gil's thread from survivors of child abuse, both those who have survived domestic abuse as adults as well and those who've been fortunate enough to avoid it. I read through that entire thread at one point, but I've forgotten a lot of what's in it. It's a long thread.

However, I think others who were abused as children may have the same impression, that the other thread is for those who survived abuse as adults, so this thread certainly has a place.

Me, I survived both child abuse and domestic violence as an adult, so I'm just gonna sit back and watch both threads for a bit.

 

[Inrhapsody]

As a teacher and someone who was never abused, I hope and pray that a trustworthy adult was there for you somewhere along the way. I work with kids that have endured many things and just want you to know that I applaud the idea of this thread. Hugs to you and all who are survivors.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

Ok, so... *stands up* My name is Kelly and I am a survivor of child abuse and also adult domestic violence. I'll try and keep this fairly succinct but I warn you, I'm likely to ramble.

I grew up with my parents and a younger sister. I was first touched by my father when I was 8, which he said was to ensure that I was 'developing properly' in case I needed to see a doctor. At the time, I never questioned why he had taken it upon himself to do this rather than my mum. By the time I was 12, he was penetrating me and the first time was one of the single most painful experiences of my life. In addition to the sexual abuse, he manipulated and psychologically abused me, telling me I was fat, ugly, useless, destined to be alone and unloved and fortunate that he even wanted to touch me. There were also punishments I endured that were part of his strict disciplinary regime, designed to shame me and scare me out of telling anyone what he did to me. I recognise now that there was probably a sexually sadistic element going on with him at the time but as a child, I was completely and totally demoralised, convinced that I was incapable of doing even the simplest thing right.

By contrast, my younger sister - to my knowledge - was never touched. I imagine my father was too pragmatic to want two traumatised and abused children running about the place as adults. Also, her happy,normal relationship with her Dad was later to discredit me when I began to try speaking out. It severed our bond as siblings almost completely and for a while I truly hated her. I was insanely jealous of her happy, carefree childhood and she thought I was an attention seeking, pathological liar. My mother also doubted me at the time, though we have a tacit understanding now never to mention the subject that suggests it disturbs her. So my father did exactly what he set out to do; divide and conquer. He has never been brought to book. I couldn't convince my own family, so I have little hope of convincing anyone else.

I went completely off of the rails for a while, self harming, drinking, taking drugs, causing trouble and generally reinforcing the impression that I was a troubled, attention seeking teen. My first two relationships became physically and sometimes sexually abusive because I sought the wrong people and failed to break the pattern my father had set. It reinforced my belief that it was I who was flawed and who attracted violence and abuse. I knew I was the common denominator but it took a long time to understand why and that it made my two violent exes no less culpable for what they did. There was a time when I actively sought abuse, set out to anger and provoke because I wanted to be hurt. I had a fatalistic view of things and wanted by partner at the time to finish me off.

The turning point for me came about 3 years ago when I landed myself in hospital again and police urged me to go to a women's refuge. It was then I realised that I hadn't wanted to be rescued and that I had been perpetuating what happened to me quite deliberately, if not entirely consciously. I tried to check out, stealing drugs from an unattended trolley and taking them all. Even in that I failed and was brought round. There is something about failing in a suicide attempt that just brings you to your psychological rock bottom like nothing else. For someone with a total absence of self esteem like me, it was a superlative failure. I remember lying in hospital, thoroughly sick of the sight of myself.

"Enough now." Were the two words I announced to the strip light above, while perversely, the gods mocked me by playing Pink's 'Don't let me get me' through my hospital radio headset. You couldn't bloody make it up. At the very least, it got me laughing at myself.

So the only way was up. I signed up for and actually attended therapy for a while but I decided that reliving my past nightmares was unconstructive. I had qualifications but a mostly blank CV and no clue what I wanted to do with my life. I spent some time in limbo, staying at a refuge after I left hospital until a court injunction could be obtained against my ex. I stayed in B&B accommodation to avoid going home and then got myself a little flat and a little job. I met my most recent ex, who was lovely but just had no clue what he was taking on. After 18months with him, I found myself safe and loved but bored shitless. I went solo and advertised in newspapers and on business angel sites for a business partner. I found a stellar guy who backed my idea for a cafe and here I am, a woman of means(ish), owner of my own business and fully functioning member of society.

I came onto Lit because of my submissive leanings, something I never wanted to explore before because I was so emotionally vulnerable to start with and I thought it would bring back bad memories or lead me back into enabling my own abuse. I'm as stable and together as I've ever been though and I feel able to seek the partner I need on my own terms and for the right reasons.

So that's me.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

I heard this today, have never really listened to the lyrics. Easier to run, by Linkin Park.

"Easier To Run"

It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone

Something has been taken from deep inside of me
The secret I've kept locked away no one can ever see
Wounds so deep they never show they never go away
Like moving pictures in my head for years and years they've played

(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(If I could take all the shame to the grave I would)
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(I would take all my shame to the grave)

[Chorus]
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone

Sometimes I remember the darkness of my past
Bringing back these memories I wish I didn't have
Sometimes I think of letting go and never looking back
And never moving forward so there'd never be a past

(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(If I could take all the shame to the grave I would)
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(I would take all my shame to the grave)

Just washing it aside
All of the helplessness inside
Pretending I don't feel misplaced
It's so much simpler than change

[Chorus]
It's easier to run
Replacing this pain with something numb
It's so much easier to go
Than face all this pain here all alone

It's easier to run
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made)
It's easier to go
(If I could change I would take back the pain I would)
(Retrace every wrong move that I made I would)
(If I could stand up and take the blame I would)
(I would take all my shame to the grave)

 

[unregistered]

 

[KarennaC]

Kelly, thank you so much for sharing. You're very strong, and I applaud you for your courage and for starting this thread.

Since I'm here, procrastinating on writing, and have been halfway to tears most of the morning anyway, I guess I'll go...

When I was about 18 months old, I learned to take off my diaper. My mother walked in one morning and found me naked in my crib, touching my genitals. She whalloped me upside the head and yelled; at that age I didn't understand everything she said, but I knew I'd done something bad and that part of my body wasn't a good thing at all.

When I was four, my mother, fed up with dealing with me, made me go outside to play with two brothers, ages nine and seven, who lived in our neighborhood. They took me into a grove beside my house and told me to pull down my pants. I refused. The older one punched me in the stomach and told me to do what he said or he'd hit me again. I did what he said. This happened once or twice more, until I told my mother, who first said, "Well, you shouldn't have been playing with them" (every time I'd said I didn't want to play with them, she'd forced me), then grudgingly told their parents, adding, "I think she's just overreacting. Kids will be kids."

When I was seven or eight, I was molested by a family friend. I've blocked out most of the details, but occasionally get mental flashes of it. Those get locked back into the box I've hidden them in.

When I was eleven, I was sexually harassed for a couple weeks by a group of high school boys who hung out near my house. Things like "We want to rape you." When I was sixteen, I was sexually assaulted by a classmate. When I was seventeen, my best friend's boyfriend raped me. All of these were said to be my fault; I was a "slut", I was too "provocative", I "shouldn't have been there."

Throughout my childhood, my father was emotionally absent, though he did take my side with some of the above incidents. My mother was at times emotionally abusive, blaming me when I was injured or when the above things happened, telling me I was a slut if I asked any questions about sex, and yelling at and blaming me when she had problems with my father. I was spanked and definitely didn't turn out okay; I learned to lie to get out of trouble. As I got older, she sometimes slapped me in the face or arms.

I received horribly mixed messages about sex; I wasn't supposed to wonder about it, definitely wasn't supposed to have it, and yet my father left sexually explicit magazines and books lying around all over the house. This just added to my guilt when the things I listed above happened; I was a slut, I was bad, and that's why it was done to me.

My father's mother, who babysat me frequently, was also emotionally abusive. She told me from a young age that I was fat, ugly, dirty, and lazy, that no man would ever love me, and constantly asked why I wasn't as good as my friends.

Not that I had many friends; I was bullied from kindergarten on, called "weird" at best, insulted for how I looked, walked, dressed, and pretty much everything else.

At nineteen, with my self-esteem completely in the sewer, I met the man I would marry. He was disfigured by a birth defect, had a horrible temper, and extreme paranoia that left him feeling that everyone looked down on him and thought he was stupid. I married him three and a half years later because I figured I was such an ugly, unlovable person that no one else would want me. That led to nearly fourteen years of emotional abuse: namecalling, threats of suicide if I didn't do what he wanted, things being thrown at me or destroyed because "you pissed me off, so what else was I supposed to do", and so on. I gave birth to two children, who learned not to respect me because their father often told them "Your mother's got mental problems and she won't take medicine, so she doesn't know what she's talking about." This was also his excuse every time I complained about his treatment of me. He hated sex, had it mainly because "it's what men do", and expected me to pretend to enjoy it so he could feel like a man, without really enjoying it because that meant I was a whore.

During most of the marriage, I had no friends. I wasn't allowed to. I gained about 100 pounds and lived in my books to get away from my real life.

Almost four years ago, I met a man who was interested in me as a person- purely platonically, however. We became friends over a mutual interest in writing, but that friendship quickly developed. He helped me deal with a lot of things from my past, and helped me rebuild the parts of me that had been destroyed starting when I was 18 months old. A little over two years ago, after realizing that my children were growing up thinking my marriage was what marriage is supposed to be, I found the strength and courage to leave my husband and start a new life, as a new, strong, confident woman.

Well, mostly.

I still struggle with self-esteem and trust, both of myself and of others. About 8 months after I left my husband, I got involved with another emotionally abusive man, who I didn't recognize as abusive because he wasn't as bad as my husband had been. Fortunately by then I'd made some good friends who helped me see sense. (Unfortunately, the friend who'd helped me get out in the first place gave up on me a few months after I left my husband because he didn't approve of some choices I made.) My trust was further dented, but I knew I'd get past it, because after all I'd survived everything else so far.

A year ago, I had to take out a protection order on my ex-husband after he not only kept threatening suicide, but also threatened the life of our then 12-year-old. His family realized pretty quickly after I left how bad things really had been, though they'd realized more than I'd thought while he and I were married, and they've been on my side 100% as far as my leaving and what's best for the kids, to the point that they're now encouraging me to try to get permanent sole custody.

Last May, which was about a year and a half after I left my marriage, I met a man who's pretty much the antithesis of my ex-husband. He knows some of what I've been through, though not all of it. He almost never gets angry, and on the very few occasions when he has, he's walked away, calmed down, and then come back to talk through it. He's gentle and patient with me, and he's accepted my children unconditionally. My older daughter calls him her "half-dad" (thanks to her father, she has issues with the words "father" and "stepfather"), and my younger daughter, who has problems connecting with people in general, has really connected with him. I still catch myself sometimes being afraid of his reactions to things; I was afraid to talk to him about sexual activities I wanted to try because I was afraid he'd think I was a whore, like my ex-husband had; I couldn't write with him around for a while because I was afraid he'd complain I was "typing too loud" like my ex-husband had. But I'm learning, and because my boyfriend knows what my marriage was like, he hugs me, reassures me, and then spanks me for worrying. (I don't mind the spankings )

He and I are moving in together this summer.

 

[christabelll]

(((((((((((({{{{{{KARENNA & MY LACERATED}}}}})))))))))

You know I am a 45 year old survivor of sexual and all other types of abuse, including spousal. I won't go into it now as I have to keep myself put together today.

But I wanted to applaud you. I wanted to give you my hugs and heartfelt support and lauds. Its not easy. Its never easy. But we find a way - somehow, we find a way. For Good or Bad - we go on and on living, laughing, loving as best we can.

I'll come back later and tell a bit of my tale.... but its started with sodomy when I was 4 and went down from there............................

 

[mylaceratedheart]

(((((((((((({{{{{{KARENNA & MY LACERATED}}}}})))))))))

You know I am a 45 year old survivor of sexual and all other types of abuse, including spousal. I won't go into it now as I have to keep myself put together today.

But I wanted to applaud you. I wanted to give you my hugs and heartfelt support and lauds. Its not easy. Its never easy. But we find a way - somehow, we find a way. For Good or Bad - we go on and on living, laughing, loving as best we can.

I'll come back later and tell a bit of my tale.... but its started with sodomy when I was 4 and went down from there............................

Good grief, you poor thing. I'm just glad that people are finding in this thread a place to talk frankly. I wondered if it was a bit trite or silly to put it in a sex forum like this when there are dedicated child abuse survivor sites around. Here though, we can talk explicitly and also draw parallels between past abuse and adult sexual relationships, which I really do think is key. The anonymity also helps a great deal, for me anyway.

Don't feel you have to make some huge statement just because we have, that's not what this is about. Post whatever you want to post, whatever you want to discuss.

 

[christabelll]

Thank you darling. I'm not the only poor thing thats suffered through this and survived to tell the fractured tale of my life .....

If you want a taste of my catharthis , as it were , read Nobody by clicking the image in my sig line - non erotic poetry. A bit stark for most it seems... too real... but I have other peices that I have put forth here over in poetry - again not subjects most want to deal with, with no response... I tend to work through my issues by writing. Or screaming in my head (more like squirming with remembered shame and guilt). But thats on a bad day Most days I am okay. Except when confronted with authority figures who have no control over their own rages. Then I fall apart and become the silent, big eyed mouse.

I don't know what it is... but some really old memories have been dredging themselves up from the poorly sealed vaults of my memories and I haven't been easy in my own skin for a few days. Doesn't help that I am sick with migraines and mastoiditis again.

But take care sweetling. I'll be back -

 

[mylaceratedheart]

Thank you darling. I'm not the only poor thing thats suffered through this and survived to tell the fractured tale of my life .....

If you want a taste of my catharthis , as it were , read Nobody by clicking the image in my sig line - non erotic poetry. A bit stark for most it seems... too real... but I have other peices that I have put forth here over in poetry - again not subjects most want to deal with, with no response... I tend to work through my issues by writing. Or screaming in my head (more like squirming with remembered shame and guilt). But thats on a bad day Most days I am okay. Except when confronted with authority figures who have no control over their own rages. Then I fall apart and become the silent, big eyed mouse.

I don't know what it is... but some really old memories have been dredging themselves up from the poorly sealed vaults of my memories and I haven't been easy in my own skin for a few days. Doesn't help that I am sick with migraines and mastoiditis again.

But take care sweetling. I'll be back -

That's a very powerful poem, thankyou for sharing it. Memories like that are vicious, they always kick you when you're down. I have also had problems with confrontation and with standing my ground in the face of alpha personalities but I'm proud to say I've got more combative and belligerent since I started my own business. It really did wonders for my self esteem, most especially because the credit crunch has yet to knock it on its ass.

When you've created yourself anew and painstakingly decided who you want to be, it's a more fragile self than people realise. Self belief gets us through each day and further away from past sorrows but it makes self doubt that much more corrosive. Most people just know who they are, they never had to sit down as adults and choose. Forgive me if I'm talking bollocks, it's a little too early in the UK for me to be making a great deal of sense.

I'm sorry to hear about your migraines and mastoiditis. I get migraines myself on occasion but they're secondary to epilepsy. HUGS x

 

[mylaceratedheart]

Kelly, thank you so much for sharing. You're very strong, and I applaud you for your courage and for starting this thread.

Since I'm here, procrastinating on writing, and have been halfway to tears most of the morning anyway, I guess I'll go...

When I was about 18 months old, I learned to take off my diaper. My mother walked in one morning and found me naked in my crib, touching my genitals. She whalloped me upside the head and yelled; at that age I didn't understand everything she said, but I knew I'd done something bad and that part of my body wasn't a good thing at all.

When I was four, my mother, fed up with dealing with me, made me go outside to play with two brothers, ages nine and seven, who lived in our neighborhood. They took me into a grove beside my house and told me to pull down my pants. I refused. The older one punched me in the stomach and told me to do what he said or he'd hit me again. I did what he said. This happened once or twice more, until I told my mother, who first said, "Well, you shouldn't have been playing with them" (every time I'd said I didn't want to play with them, she'd forced me), then grudgingly told their parents, adding, "I think she's just overreacting. Kids will be kids."

When I was seven or eight, I was molested by a family friend. I've blocked out most of the details, but occasionally get mental flashes of it. Those get locked back into the box I've hidden them in.

When I was eleven, I was sexually harassed for a couple weeks by a group of high school boys who hung out near my house. Things like "We want to rape you." When I was sixteen, I was sexually assaulted by a classmate. When I was seventeen, my best friend's boyfriend raped me. All of these were said to be my fault; I was a "slut", I was too "provocative", I "shouldn't have been there."

Throughout my childhood, my father was emotionally absent, though he did take my side with some of the above incidents. My mother was at times emotionally abusive, blaming me when I was injured or when the above things happened, telling me I was a slut if I asked any questions about sex, and yelling at and blaming me when she had problems with my father. I was spanked and definitely didn't turn out okay; I learned to lie to get out of trouble. As I got older, she sometimes slapped me in the face or arms.

I received horribly mixed messages about sex; I wasn't supposed to wonder about it, definitely wasn't supposed to have it, and yet my father left sexually explicit magazines and books lying around all over the house. This just added to my guilt when the things I listed above happened; I was a slut, I was bad, and that's why it was done to me.

My father's mother, who babysat me frequently, was also emotionally abusive. She told me from a young age that I was fat, ugly, dirty, and lazy, that no man would ever love me, and constantly asked why I wasn't as good as my friends.

Not that I had many friends; I was bullied from kindergarten on, called "weird" at best, insulted for how I looked, walked, dressed, and pretty much everything else.

At nineteen, with my self-esteem completely in the sewer, I met the man I would marry. He was disfigured by a birth defect, had a horrible temper, and extreme paranoia that left him feeling that everyone looked down on him and thought he was stupid. I married him three and a half years later because I figured I was such an ugly, unlovable person that no one else would want me. That led to nearly fourteen years of emotional abuse: namecalling, threats of suicide if I didn't do what he wanted, things being thrown at me or destroyed because "you pissed me off, so what else was I supposed to do", and so on. I gave birth to two children, who learned not to respect me because their father often told them "Your mother's got mental problems and she won't take medicine, so she doesn't know what she's talking about." This was also his excuse every time I complained about his treatment of me. He hated sex, had it mainly because "it's what men do", and expected me to pretend to enjoy it so he could feel like a man, without really enjoying it because that meant I was a whore.

During most of the marriage, I had no friends. I wasn't allowed to. I gained about 100 pounds and lived in my books to get away from my real life.

Almost four years ago, I met a man who was interested in me as a person- purely platonically, however. We became friends over a mutual interest in writing, but that friendship quickly developed. He helped me deal with a lot of things from my past, and helped me rebuild the parts of me that had been destroyed starting when I was 18 months old. A little over two years ago, after realizing that my children were growing up thinking my marriage was what marriage is supposed to be, I found the strength and courage to leave my husband and start a new life, as a new, strong, confident woman.

Well, mostly.

I still struggle with self-esteem and trust, both of myself and of others. About 8 months after I left my husband, I got involved with another emotionally abusive man, who I didn't recognize as abusive because he wasn't as bad as my husband had been. Fortunately by then I'd made some good friends who helped me see sense. (Unfortunately, the friend who'd helped me get out in the first place gave up on me a few months after I left my husband because he didn't approve of some choices I made.) My trust was further dented, but I knew I'd get past it, because after all I'd survived everything else so far.

A year ago, I had to take out a protection order on my ex-husband after he not only kept threatening suicide, but also threatened the life of our then 12-year-old. His family realized pretty quickly after I left how bad things really had been, though they'd realized more than I'd thought while he and I were married, and they've been on my side 100% as far as my leaving and what's best for the kids, to the point that they're now encouraging me to try to get permanent sole custody.

Last May, which was about a year and a half after I left my marriage, I met a man who's pretty much the antithesis of my ex-husband. He knows some of what I've been through, though not all of it. He almost never gets angry, and on the very few occasions when he has, he's walked away, calmed down, and then come back to talk through it. He's gentle and patient with me, and he's accepted my children unconditionally. My older daughter calls him her "half-dad" (thanks to her father, she has issues with the words "father" and "stepfather"), and my younger daughter, who has problems connecting with people in general, has really connected with him. I still catch myself sometimes being afraid of his reactions to things; I was afraid to talk to him about sexual activities I wanted to try because I was afraid he'd think I was a whore, like my ex-husband had; I couldn't write with him around for a while because I was afraid he'd complain I was "typing too loud" like my ex-husband had. But I'm learning, and because my boyfriend knows what my marriage was like, he hugs me, reassures me, and then spanks me for worrying. (I don't mind the spankings )

He and I are moving in together this summer.

KarennaC, this is another moving and ultimately positive testimony. We are living proof that you can get past all this shit and become the person you should have been in the first place. Thankyou so much.

 

[unregistered]

 

[KarennaC]

Christabelll, that poem is very moving. Hugs to you for everything.

Kelly, absolutely. Abuse tries to tear us down, but survivors have the power to rebuild themselves. For some it takes longer than for others, but we all have that ability inside us.

I had a crap day yesterday after posting that, though; dredging up memories from the silt tends to do that to me. Fortunately my man was here to help me through it. Unfortunately, I'm afraid I may have lost a friend over it. But it is what it is; my friend knows what I've been through as well, and if he isn't willing to accept my apology, that's his problem, not mine.

 

[christabelll]

I've found that survivors are the ultimate actors. We read people in seconds and shy away or draw closer based on some hard wired instincts we developed while being abused. For a long time I was unable to speak about what happened to me over a period of twelve years. It took Jack Daniels and reefer and a long long night alone with my mother to reveal the truth of my life.

Its sad to say but I wasn't the only child in the family who was sexually abused by the step demon. But all of us - all of us agree I was his special pet to abuse. My mother worked nights and was a drugged out zombie for the rest of it (all precriptions mind). She also came from a long history of abuse so for her the beatings, the humiliations, the irrational demands for perfection, mindless obedience were normal. I was 15 when the truth started to dawn on her. I remember that so clearly. I was acting out, the only one brave enough to do so it seems now, skipping school, defying his demands - oh that earned me a few broken bones and bruises the size of south america - refusing to let him do anything to me during the long nights. - The day my mother was told by my two older sisters what he had done to them (they were long out of the house by then.) ANd how Afraid he became. Crying, shaking, threatening, reminding me to never tell or he would kill us all. Since he was a cop - yes a cop - I believed his threats. Hard not to when the first act off terror involved a shot gun in my mouth when I was 4 and half years old.

In a way it shaped my need to explore the darkest aspects of my sexuality in my late twenties. It led to horrible self doubt before that, especially in the bedroom. Although I had "plenty" of experience I was declared over and over again as a cold, responseless, selfish, frigid bitch - all because I didn't want to have sex used as a means to prove love. Twisted that it seems.

Once I discovered within myself that BDSM was not for me - though some gentle elements are wonderful now , I went through a period of self contained celibacy. After that it was as if I found my voice. In and out of the bedroom. But its easy to lose that voice. Mainly for the sake of peace. But sometimes peace isn't the best way to deal. I know this. I understand this, but sometimes it really is easier to remain silent and move on than to confront it.

That makes me a coward I guess.

That said - It lead me to look for men who were emotionally absent or sexually aggressive. Took me till my after ex husband to realize what I was doing. After he threw me over going on six years ago now - I began to realize that in him I had married the young version of my stepfather. Ohhh that was huge. Still dealing with it. Still fighting him for the children we bore together. Still listening to him abuse me verbally and try everything he can to scare me into submission. My requests for restraining orders were denied. My attorney was worthless and my own terror driven actions cost me than most people can pay. After fighting him for more than two years he was able to take my children from me so he could continue abusing them without my interference. I am still fighting him and he has been arrested a few times for abusing the children in his household. It looks positive for the first time in three years. Becuase I was NOT in his home when he was arrested!

That battle is here, now and I am not backing down. I have a good man so freaking passive he's jello LOL.... but Aggressive and determined to help and protect me in any way he can to stand against my ex and "the world" at large.
Yes I have my fear triggers. I have a red hot temper too - that wasn't something I developed until my mid thirties and well - Ghosts bedamned - old tapes tapes bedamned. I will win this. I will get my children back - I will send his happy ass to hell. Hehehe...

Am I blathering again?
Sorry about that = one of those kinds of mornings.

 

[christabelll]

{{{{{{{{KarennaC}}}}}}}}
{{{{{{{{My Lacerated Heart}}}}}}}}}
{{{{{{{{JtohisPB}}}}}}}}}


THank you for sharing with me. Its an honor to "meet" such brave women and or men who have come through the fire relatively whole. We are stronger than anyone gives us credit for, including ourselves. But we are also more easily breakable. We are indeed fragile creatures of the light, reformed and refracted, but beautiful none the less.

Much love, many hugs, and a huge thumbs up!

 

[mylaceratedheart]

That said - It lead me to look for men who were emotionally absent or sexually aggressive. Took me till my after ex husband to realize what I was doing. After he threw me over going on six years ago now - I began to realize that in him I had married the young version of my stepfather. Ohhh that was huge. Still dealing with it. Still fighting him for the children we bore together. Still listening to him abuse me verbally and try everything he can to scare me into submission. My requests for restraining orders were denied. My attorney was worthless and my own terror driven actions cost me than most people can pay. After fighting him for more than two years he was able to take my children from me so he could continue abusing them without my interference. I am still fighting him and he has been arrested a few times for abusing the children in his household. It looks positive for the first time in three years. Becuase I was NOT in his home when he was arrested!

Wow. I could not cope with that. I would seriously go out of my mind if I had kids that were being left with an abuser. I would quite possibly maim or commit murder and believe me, darling daddy and I have had our moments since I started opening my mouth. You have amazing strength to take this through the system and ensure you're there for your kids at the other end. I simply cannot imagine what that must be like for you.

Huge hugs, for whatever that's worth.

It does scare me when I think about how long I could have spent in a similar pattern. I got my court injunction (which is Brit for a restraining order) but not before my temporary address had been mistakenly sent to my ex on a legal document. By that time, I was scared and determined enough to bitch and yell until I got the legal protection I was entitled to, as quickly as it could be arranged.

Thankfully, I have no kids and I really don't have a maternal impulse of any description. It's possible I'll change my mind before my ovaries shrivel but I can't really see it from where I'm standing now. I get pissed off enough at the demands my cat makes. In fact, I have lied completely about being new to BDSM because I have been that feline's bitch since he stalked through the door.

 

[mylaceratedheart]

{{{{{{{{KarennaC}}}}}}}}
{{{{{{{{My Lacerated Heart}}}}}}}}}
{{{{{{{{JtohisPB}}}}}}}}}


THank you for sharing with me. Its an honor to "meet" such brave women and or men who have come through the fire relatively whole. We are stronger than anyone gives us credit for, including ourselves. But we are also more easily breakable. We are indeed fragile creatures of the light, reformed and refracted, but beautiful none the less.

Much love, many hugs, and a huge thumbs up!

I actually have a badge on my handbag that reads 'Blessed are the cracked, for they let in the light.'

 

[christabelll]

I actually have a badge on my handbag that reads 'Blessed are the cracked, for they let in the light.'

Hee heeeeee! I want one! That is so totally appropriate!




As for dealing - jesus god above - it was the worst - absolute worst day of my life (and I have a quite a few of the worst). I look back on the day he seized them from their school and hid them from me for three months in heartbroken horror. The term cried her eyes shut is not a piece of fiction. If not for my eldest half sib - I think I would have done something really really stupid. That and about a gallon of gin and tonics.... can't stomach those now thought they are immanently refreshing on a broiling kind of day LOL....

Its a very long story and I deal with the guilt of my own actions, my own breaking under the fear, that allowed him the tiny little seam he squeezed through to take them from me. And its a sad but all to real fact that more than 85% of abused children remain with or are given over to their abusers. Its a thing some never realize or understand. How ingrained fear and the response to it can color how you handle anything. Thank god there are those out there who have never really suffered the way we have. God love 'em in their naivete - but I wouldn't take that away from them.


Anyway - Thank you. I truly appreciate the support. I hope I can lend some to those who post here. Its a beaufitul day isn't it? Even if your hip deep in pirahna's its a beautiful day


eta" Who says I found my mind???? Where is it? Give it back! (grinning manaically LOLOLOL)

 

[KarennaC]

(((Jtohis))) (((Christabelll))) Jtohis, you posted at the same time as me earlier; I'm sorry I didn't comment on your post. How horrible for you to have had to live with this, but you should be so proud of yourself for putting a stop to it. That had to have taken incredible courage.

Christabelll, I hear how you feel about your children. I was dumb enough to think my ex-husband wouldn't be abusive to our kids, and I actually allowed our older daughter to live with him for four months last year. (Partly because she wanted to so badly that she was destroying our household with fighting against me and her sister.) She never was physically abused by him, but he neglected her to the point where when she returned to me, I had to give her a crew cut to get rid of the lice infestation, and he moved in with a woman whose husband is a convicted child rapist (his own children) and didn't try to keep this man out of the house when our children were there. He even forbade my daughter to call the police against the other man, even though he wasn't supposed to be in the home.

My daughter says the rapist never touched her, but he threatened to at least once. And he told my ex-husband that if he kept seeing the woman, he'd get revenge by raping our daughter. And still my ex-husband did nothing.

His girlfriend called my older daughter a "fucking cunt" and other choice names; her twelve-year-old bullied both my children; and the girlfriend told my younger daughter she hated her. And my ex-husband continues to choose her over his children. He'd have had the protection order lifted for at least supervised visits by now if he didn't let the woman keep talking him out of getting counseling and keep telling him that he'd better put her first.

My daughter, thank god, has finally reached the point of understanding that her father is making these choices of his own free will and that they aren't because she's a "bad kid" or of anything she did. She now refuses to speak to him during the weekly monitored phone calls he's allowed. I'll be going to see a lawyer in a week or so to discuss getting permanent sole custody of my children.

Christabelll, I'll keep good thoughts for you that you'll be able to get your children away from their father and into a safe home with a parent who loves them.

 

[christabelll]

(((Jtohis))) (((Christabelll))) Jtohis, you posted at the same time as me earlier; I'm sorry I didn't comment on your post. How horrible for you to have had to live with this, but you should be so proud of yourself for putting a stop to it. That had to have taken incredible courage.

Christabelll, I hear how you feel about your children. I was dumb enough to think my ex-husband wouldn't be abusive to our kids, and I actually allowed our older daughter to live with him for four months last year. (Partly because she wanted to so badly that she was destroying our household with fighting against me and her sister.) She never was physically abused by him, but he neglected her to the point where when she returned to me, I had to give her a crew cut to get rid of the lice infestation, and he moved in with a woman whose husband is a convicted child rapist (his own children) and didn't try to keep this man out of the house when our children were there. He even forbade my daughter to call the police against the other man, even though he wasn't supposed to be in the home.

My daughter says the rapist never touched her, but he threatened to at least once. And he told my ex-husband that if he kept seeing the woman, he'd get revenge by raping our daughter. And still my ex-husband did nothing.

His girlfriend called my older daughter a "fucking cunt" and other choice names; her twelve-year-old bullied both my children; and the girlfriend told my younger daughter she hated her. And my ex-husband continues to choose her over his children. He'd have had the protection order lifted for at least supervised visits by now if he didn't let the woman keep talking him out of getting counseling and keep telling him that he'd better put her first.

My daughter, thank god, has finally reached the point of understanding that her father is making these choices of his own free will and that they aren't because she's a "bad kid" or of anything she did. She now refuses to speak to him during the weekly monitored phone calls he's allowed. I'll be going to see a lawyer in a week or so to discuss getting permanent sole custody of my children.

Christabelll, I'll keep good thoughts for you that you'll be able to get your children away from their father and into a safe home with a parent who loves them.

That must have been horrifying to know. ((((KARENNAC)))) I'm not sure what I would have done under those circumstances. Doesn't it just make your heart shrivel? And so freaking angry that nuclear bombs would be less devasting? I am so glad that you got her away from there. Go You!

And thank you. I can use all the postive thought on this that can be mustered.

Man oh man - I had a crew cut from the age of five until 5th grade. Not because of lice but because I was being punished for being a kid who cut off a few locks of hair. But I do know a sure fire cure for lice - rubbing alchohol. Fill large bowl - have child or whomever lay on floor with back of head in bowl and damp cloth over face - then carefully rub/pour alchohol over the entire hair area... especially soaking the roots. Let soak for about three minutes combing through. Then replace bowl with warm water and comb through again. The lice and eggs are killed and the hair is left feeling squeaky squeaky clean . After done wash and condition as usual. Several years ago My daughter came home with nits from preschool and my mother told me about this I was skeptical but since I didn't want to use insecticide on my kid - it worked like a charm. Same for washing possible infested bedding. But a little different - big water proof bag - washed and spun but not dry sheets etc into bag. 99% isopropyl alchohol two big bottles (most pharmacy's carry it). Pour into bag. Seal bag and roll the it around to work the alchohol through the fabric. Leave sealed over night. The wash and dry as normal.

Why am I running on about this? Good advice none the less

I screwed my courage up today and posted a chapter from a novel in progress today over in story discussion. I am hoping my bravery isn't met with scorn and ridicule. Or worse yet out right ignored. Its been really hard for me these past months. Part of its the ongoing health crisis - and part of its feeling ostracized by people I had come to admire - and even kind of respect. My story rather reflects some of that but - what I am finding the most difficult - ?

revealing the true depths of feeling within the story I am writing. The little defeats and humilations. The falling back on learned behavior rather than finding a new way to be. Not to mention the triumphs and small accomplishments that we dismiss as not worthy of mention. Its amazing - even after all these years how easy it is to fall back into the resentful, angry, worthless feeling mode of being. I struggle everyday just to get out of bed. I do - but sometimes I wonder why I bother. Its not really that different from when I was a child and bed was no safe haven. I would hide in the fields, or the forest, or the loft of the barns lost within hazy dreams of what my life would be like without the step demon there. WIthout fail - I had to return to the abusive 'love" of Pa - and the neglectful love of Ma - spending many nights unable to sleep from the bruises, or woken up to perform for the step demon.

My SO- as steadfast as he is - is as neglectful - at times. There is no sex - so I am not being awakened with hard ons being thrust into me. But sometimes I just want to crawl away and forget the world and everyone in it - if only for a little while.

That said, I don't. I get up even if my head is swooping like starlings and the pain isn't controlled - to cook, clean - write - till the day winds down and I fall back into bed again. I call my children and consult with my attorney - I play endless games on the puter and read stacks of books when my eyes aren't totally wonky from the migraines.

And memories boil up and leave me devastated. Ah well. I deal... one way or another I deal - and I am so not good at writing what I want to say -




Have a blessed day everyone. The sun always returns right?

 

[KarennaC]

Christabelll, sending you rays and rays of sunshine. You're an incredibly strong and powerful person; getting through each day proves that.

And thanks for the rubbing alcohol tip; we apparently live in the lice capital of Maine and every couple months one or the other of my kids brings home a new batch from school. I use a homeopathic treatment, not the pesticide stuff, but it's hard with my younger one because the treatment makes her hair so tangled, no matter how careful I am, that I can't comb it out like I'm supposed to. I sometimes use olive oil when the darn things get really stubborn, but that's a pain in the neck to wash out afterward. I"ll give the rubbing alcohol a try next time.