Then take gentle care of yourself Josh
Thanks lw
A child's prayers
by Lady Lee 26 Replies latest watchtower child-abuse
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aspiration
I think a lot of people find it hard to imagine real evil. Most of us who have been abused have seen it in the eyes of our abusers.
Wow, Lee. Did you and I grow up together? I had nothing half as traumatic as you, but I'm right there with you.
My abusers never looked me in the eye. They looked at body parts - to hurt or hit but not me. I was a tool for them to unleash their self-hatred, powerlessness and rage.
Again, I remember that wild-eyed, crazy haired look of rage, complete rage. That sense that they had Satan himself in them, and they were there for more of my sanity.
But I looked them in the eye - before and after. I saw the powerlessness before. I saw the evil and slef-hatred during. And I saw the rage after as if to blame me for their lack of control.
Jesus. You just painted me a portrait of my father.
So often as victims we carry those things for them. It's as if by their act they displace those feelings and put them on the child. Not knowing any better we carry it. Recovery for me is about giving it back. It is about searching inside to those backened dark corners of my soul and finding those things that are not authentically me. And cleaning them out.
Just started on this. Very tough. Very, very tough. It's so easy to slip back into the way of deying it, or just 'letting it go' essentially ignoring it, and demeaning the experience for the sake of 'comfort'. I just didn't know that later on, it would come back and haunt me anyway. Thought I was going to have a nervous breakdown, or go crazy. When I realised it was the 'old problem', I almost wanted to cry with relief.
Each poem I write, each bit of prose is a cleansing for me of things that are not me. And sometimes I am left with a hole that needs to be filled in place of what is cleaned out.
Definitely.
Getting support and validation helps to fill the hole with something healthy and positive. It replaces all those displaced feelings and beliefs about who I am. Accepting new beliefs about myself roots out the darkened palces and fills those empty spaces
Validation. That's a big one for me. I never thought it was that big a deal, seeing that people like you had it so much worse. But someone said to me yesterday as I started cleaning a bit---it was that bad. I swear, it was one of the nicest things I ever heard. I wasn't just being a complainer, or digging up the past for a pity-party. I was so screwed up by it, that it was effecting my life years later, though in my personal life is heaven now. It's really hard to go back and remember the man, that crazy violent man.
Great thread, Lee.
aspiration
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aspiration
I believe we did try to be good, but just because that effort was not rewarded does not take away from us. I believe there was a spark inside each of us that craved more than we received and when we did not get that from the people who should have given it to us freely and with joy, we set out on our own and made it for ourselves.
I just had to talk about this, too. As a kid, I was good. And the better I behaved, the more insidious my father became about picking out my 'sins' so I could be 'punished'. Being swung around the room by your arms and then let go so you run into something--I just never realised how sick it was at the time. I was just surviving, trying to be a good kid, still doing kid things that are irritating, but didn't deserve the treatment I got.
I was so scared of the bastard I used to hurt myself by kicking things, running into things, falling down the stairs (just rememberd that one), so that he wouldn't kick my ass. I broke every toe on my right foot during that time, because I was kicking things as hard as I could on purpose, so that he would consider myself punished, since it was worse than he would have done himself. In his mind, I 'sinned', and I punished myself, which saved him some work.
It's just sickening to remember. Know what? Being given what we should have would have been wonderful. And the rewards would be as great for the parent, as it would for the child.
aspiration.
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Big Tex
I was kicking things as hard as I could on purpose, so that he would consider myself punished, since it was worse than he would have done himself. In his mind, I 'sinned', and I punished myself, which saved him some work.
Just think how crazy that is. I'm sorry you had to deal with that level of craziness.
I used to hit myself on the legs till I was black and blue over any little misstep. I used to scream at myself for all my perceived sins. I considered myself punished. My attitude was that it hurt less if I did it, but if someone else were to yell that was too painful.
It is very hard at first to begin facing what you have lived through. The hardest thing is showing yourself kindness and being gentle or tender towards your inner child. You know, that little kid who huddled in the corner? They're still there, frozen in time. That little kid needs you, because he/she has no one else right now. Before they can believe the rest of us care deeply about them, they need to see it from you. Their parents (and yours) betrayed an innocent love, so now the responsibility is yours.
When that inner child is scared, hold them; comfort them like you wanted so desperately. And when that inner child is sad, give them your shoulder to cry on. When I'm having a bad day, and the past overwhelms me, I will sit in a rocking chair just like my grandmother used to. I will let my little guy climb in my lap, and I hold him and we will rock together. Everything will work out. It'll be okay.
This is my inner child:
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czarofmischief
Aw, crud, just when I think my crusty old Republican heart has no drops of human compassion or sympathy, somebody comes along and breaks through and finds the humanity that binds us all.
My sympathy. My respect for surviving this long. My admiration for rising above it. My help if you need it.
CZAR
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Lady Lee
aspiration
But someone said to me yesterday as I started cleaning a bit---it was that bad. I swear, it was one of the nicest things I ever heard. I wasn't just being a complainer, or digging up the past for a pity-party. I was so screwed up by it, that it was effecting my life years later, though in my personal life is heaven now. It's really hard to go back and remember the man, that crazy violent man.
Sometimes I see in others what I cannot see in myself.
The first time I went to a therapist and told her my story she sat and cried. She cried for my past and my pain. I was shocked. I had been told I exxagerated and complained. Grow up, stop being a baby. Get your act together. I don't want to see those crocodile tears. That I should get over it, forget it, it was in the past, Others had it worse so what did I have to complain about. on and on anything to dismiss my hurt and pain. And a part of me believed it. I believed it so much that I didn't cry for 23 years.
Watching that therapist cry for me allowed the dam to break and the tears to flow. I sat there holding my sides, tears flowing down my face as I told the rest of my story. I ached inside for all the years of holding it in. My face was swollen and red. I could hardly breathe and still the tears flowed. For 3 days. It was a purging.
And then I sat there numb for 3 days. The dam was broke. The flood stopped and now what. I was trapped in an abusive marriage. I'd had years of abuse heaped on me. And I didn't have a clue where to start or what to do.
After the 2 weeks I told my husband I wanted him to move out.
It wasn't the end of the problems but it was a new beginning. I had no idea where it would take me but staying stuck was getting me nowhere. I was dying inside. I had two little girls to care for. I had to be there for them. And the only way to do that was to be there for me first.
My husband told me to get over it. He wasn't my father. My mother said it was in the past - forget it. The elders told me to get to meetings and pray more. It was die or leave.
So I left. It has been hard. Over the years since I became a counselor I have heard many stories. Some are similar. Some are different.
But thay all have two things in common. We all think it wasn't that bad. After all, we're still here, right? It didn't kill us.
And the pain. The pain is the same. The symptoms might even be different but those just cover the pain.
It is hard to relive it all. To disect it and understand what it did to us. Not only the abuse when we were trapped but the living as if it never happened. The hiding the truth from ourselves that this did a lot of damage.
And so we pick up the pieces of our shattered selves. We look inside to those hidden places where their dirty secrets still live making us think we were unworthy or guilty. When I look at the picture of me from back then or BT's picture I still wonder how the hell did such little kids withstand the evil inflicted upon them
And the answer always comes back - STRENGTH.
I never thought I had it it. That I was strong
I believed I was weak because I couldn't stop it.
I believed I was weak because I couldn't put it behind me
I believed I was weak because I let it affect me
But those were the words of others. I was strong. And if those little kids in the pictures could stand up to the abuse then the adults we became can deal with the healing.
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Lady Lee
BT
What kind of evil hurts little kids. No mater what a child does they are small and defenseless. No child deserves to be hurt like you were
gentle hugs my friend
czar
you just made a new friend