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Archive for June, 2010

Looking Back

From My Private Blog:

It’s rather funny thinking about this since I just got done watching Shutter Island again. But. I remember when I first started talking about mom, and everything that has happened as a result. I felt like I was going crazy.

To be honest, I still feel like I am sometimes. I wonder if it all happened, what if its all a figment of my imagination?

I know it’s all true, but sometimes I think it’d be easier if it wasn’t. I’m turning 20 next month and I still can’t face the simple fact that my mother doesn’t love me. Maybe she did, at some point.

But how do you get from carrying a child in your stomach for 9 months, to selling them for sex? I can’t wrap my mind around it. I don’t think anyone can ever understand it.

And the fact that I never will understand it drives me mad. I’m not sure if I want to understand something as horrific as that. How did she ever think it was ok? She shows no remorse. She admits no wrong doing. Does she think that she was in the right?

How can you ever argue that? “I think it’s ok to sell my child for sex. And let men fuck her. And record it.” Maybe mom is the one who deserves to be locked up in a mental institution. Whenever I open up to people one of the firsts thinks they say is “That explains so much about you”.

That can’t be said about mom. She’s a pathological liar. She says her dad beat her. He didn’t. He hit my grandmother, and cheated on her. But he never laid a hand on her and or my aunt. She is the one who told him she wanted to flush his ashes down the toilet.

I wish I could pinpoint something that makes me go Ah-Ha! To try and understand it all. But I never will.

People keep telling me I need to forgive her. How can I do that? How do I even begin to do that? Every time I think I’m ok, I slide backwards. I fool myself into thinking that it doesn’t bother me, and that all my own issues that sprung up from it have passed.

But then someone asks me about her, why we don’t speak and I feel like my entire body has weights and I’m sinking. My heart races and my body shakes, when I close my eyes I hear my own voice saying “no I don’t want to do that” and I see her and I can smell her. I feel it. I relive it. Over and over.

How can I forgive someone who affects me in such a negative way?

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Taking Risks

I’m back with my husband now. After having to live in my hometown since December. I flew in a week ago, and have been adjusting since. It’s weird being back, and my marriage suffered because of it. For a few days it looked like filing for divorce was a viable option.

Things are better though, But I realized in thinking about my martial problems that a lot of them stem from being scared. I scare myself constantly. When I came back I was so scared of not knowing where I will be in a year or two that I wanted to leave my husband. I haven’t gone to college yet because I am scared I’m not smart enough and I’ll flunk out.

My entire life I have scared myself shitless. I’ve talked myself out of doing wonderful things because I was scared. Why am I scared?

I am terrified of being hurt again. Today I told my dearest friend details about a rape I endured at the hands of two “friends”. While that was difficult to talk about, discussing how it makes me scared that even someone I love would betray me was even harder.

When I talk to someone I assess their risk factor. “Is this person trustworthy?” “Do they have the potential to betray me?” I analyze everyone this way. This isn’t healthy. I let fear rule my entire life, all because when I was a toddler my mother decided to use me instead of love me.

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I’m reblogging this blog post because I think it rings true for every single survivor of sex abuse. I hope that you all appreciate this post as much as I did. It rang so true to me that it gave me goosebumps.

A co-worker and I were discussing the issue of child sex abuse, and I told her that I feel it is wrong, no matter what.  She told me that a friend of hers is perfectly fine as a victim of child sex abuse.  Apparently, for her friend, the only time her grandfather was nice to her was while he was molesting her. This did not surprise me, since the only time my brother was nice to me was when he was molesting me.  And then she came out with this: "C … Read More

via Reasons You Shouldn't Fuck Kids

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