Abuse
How do we speak about it
How do we own it
MY abuse
or
THE abuse
Do we absorb it
make it our own
Do we try to remove it from within
disown it
disassociate from it
How do we process those words
Does It become part of me
– we become consumed by It
– we allow It to absorb Us
– we struggle within It
– we surrender to It
Or
Do we hold it at arms length
– the thing that was done to me
– the thing that has affected me
– the thing that has crippled me
– the thing that changed my life forever
We each develop systems to cope with our individual situations
Those systems in turn become mechanisms
The mechanisms which allow us to continue to live
Some of us ‘appear’ to live well
And others of us don’t
No matter what the outside world perceives of us
The trauma
The abuse
has infiltrated our very core
pierced our soul
And created such damage that we will never ever be the same ever again
But one way we can alter the effects
Is to change
MY abuse
to
THE abuse
And in so doing
We remove the onus
From us
And give it back
To the Abuser, the Perpetrator
The one who did things TO us
Words matter
Context matters
Category: Sexual Abuse
…anything that is mentionable can be more manageable…
“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”
― Fred Rogers
I was watching the movie “A Beautiful Day in the Neighbourhood” recently and these words really spoke to me
They are so true
So wise
We have had so many taboos in societal exchange
And those taboos create so much
stress
trauma
generating room for abuse of many kinds to perpetuate
If we cannot talk about
death
life
sex
mental health
relationships
etc
in normal fashion
using real terms and real words
We create
prohibitions
secrets
silences
darkness
damage
Allowing misconceptions to exacerbate
Allowing lies to spread
Allowing abuse to continue
Let’s manage our (un)mentionables
Let’s talk honestly
Let’s talk openly
Let’s be supportive
Let’s be trustworthy
I know if I had had just one person
Just one
Who could’ve seen
Who could’ve been supportive
Maybe, just maybe, life would’ve been so different for the little girl that was me
Unfortunately
The one person that spoke up for me all those decades ago
was just another small person
a witness
but also a victim,
yet another victim
Whose parents
couldn’t hear her
wouldn’t hear her
couldn’t see
wouldn’t see
And because of their inability to manage the unmentionable
she was unheard
she was physically abused
she was verbally abused
she was ridiculed for saying such unmentionable dirty things
she was silenced
one victim
became two victims
and on
and on
and on
until decades later
the ripples in the pond of abuse that my father began
have become so big
and so far reaching
so damaging
in so many realms of my life
Ever since I found my voice 8 years ago
and began mentioning the unmentionable
I have been hearing from more of his victims
and from other victims who have found their voices cuz I found mine
Finding your voice empowers others
Sadly I am still hearing stories from other victims today
It is never ending
But as we manage our humanity
we find support
we find we are not alone
Trust me…
My trust has been broken so so many times
Trust me
I’m your Daddy
I won’t hurt you
Bullshit
Trust me
The landrover’s not gonna go over the bank
We’ll be fine
Bullshit
Trust me
I’m just gonna go to town today
I’ll see you tomorrow when you come out with the kids
Bullshit
Trust me
I’m your friend
I’ll have your back
Bullshit
Trust me…
Trust me…
Trust me…
When I hear those words…
My stomach churns
I’m feeling sick
My heads pounding
I’m crying inside
I’m breathing deep
Trying to contain my fears
My whole body is fighting
Trying to release my fears
Trust me…
It’s not that I don’t trust you
It’s that
I can no longer trust myself
to trust
Invisible wounds
Living with the results of trauma is something many of us do
Many more of us than you can imagine
Trauma response is very individual
No one can relive your trauma
No one can tell you how you ought to respond
No one can tell you what you feel
Or how you should feel
No one has the right to make you feel guilty
No one has the right to tell you to forgive
There are recognised symptoms that cover the wide variety of PTSD’s
Not all will apply to you
Or to him
Or her
They are a generic guide for diagnosis
The base though is that they are/can be your bodies response to trauma inflicted on you that you could not control
The wounds are very often externally indiscernible
But the responses are embarrassingly visible
And can often be emotionally, physically and socially crippling
For me personally I can identify with most of the above symptoms and at least half of those would be affecting me on a daily basis
Trauma changes our basic brain functionings
Thats a fact
No argument
One of my sorrowful questions has often been
What/who would I have been if I hadn’t endured 10 years of childhood sexual abuse?
Who would that little girl have become?
What would her life have been like?
Would she have been a better mother, a better wife?
Would she have had more confidence in herself?
Would her experience of sex and relationships have been more healthy?
I know I am the person I am today because of my abuse
I don’t want the abuse to define me
But in an intrinsic way it has
I had no choice in that
But I do have a choice now
I have a choice to do the best I can with who I am now
I will not let my abuser win this
I am inherently stronger because I have had to be
I had to fight from such a young age to hang on to my identity
Childhood incest inflicts such massive confusion on a child
Love
Loyalty
Respect
Trust
All things that should be an integral part of a safe normal parent/child relationship
Are confused by
Manipulation
Secrets
Emotional bullying
Passive agressiveness
Powerlessness
Conflicted loyalty
Guilt, blame & shame
Betrayal
When you finally escape you don’t know how to experience real love
You are so used to your body being used as a ‘love tool’
That you unwittingly continue that toxic behaviour
According to research
the younger the age the abuse begins,
the frequency of the abuse,
plus the longer the duration,
effects the intensity of trauma response.
The average length of incest abuse is 4 years – when I read this today it blew my mind,
I am crying as I type, I feel sick to my stomach as the reality & roots of my constant fight is hitting me…
My recollections are that I was around the age of 7-8 yrs old, the frequency was almost daily, and I wasn’t able to escape my abuser until I was 18 years old.
10 years of almost daily incestuous abuse…
No wonder I struggle to support my inner child
It is a constant
Daily
Overwhelming fight
To separate my adult self from my child self
To not be her anymore
I just want to grow strong enough to build a healthier relationship between us.
https://ct.counseling.org/2018/03/understanding-treating-survivors-incest/
https://core.ac.uk/download/pdf/84873517.pdf
She deserves to live
“Being unable to tell your story is a living death, and sometimes a literal one.”
Rebecca Solnit
For the past 10 years I have been learning how to be the adult to my broken child
The child who endured traumas no child should ever have to
The child whose trust was broken over and over
The child who was continually silenced
The child who lived a double life
In constant trauma
In fear of many fears
The adult in me continues to live that double life
Because the silencing continues
No matter how strong this adult becomes
The fear
And the hurt
And the betrayals
The repercussions of all the damage
of all the traumas
Keep reappearing when least expected
When vulnerabilities are low
When circumstances allow the cracks to widen
So the strengths gained are cruelly eroded
No matter how hard I try
The voices of the non understanding ones
The antagonists continuing the victimisation of the perpetrators
Keep penetrating the mind of the unheard child
‘keep clear of her, she’s a total fruitloop, making allegations’
Seriously?
And they were there?
No they weren’t there
And they are still not there
The ones she needed
The ones she thought she could trust
The ones she should’ve been able to trust
Were not there
Are still not here
Protecting my inner child is exhausting
It is a constant daily
Her story deserves to be heard
She deserves to live
And I will fight to my death to allow her to live
An adult who can watch over, protect, witness, honor, guide, lead, and love you.
This relationship between adult you and little you in one of the most sacred ones there is.
Vienna Pharaon
Thankfully this adult has been blessed
With a circle of support and love
That surpasses blood
That holds me when when my anguished child breaks
For this I am truly grateful
Again…
When my words stop flowing
They begin piling up within
Silencing begins slowly
One small trigger
That stops a word
That stops a sentence
And before I know it
My words have become dammed
Before I realise
The metaphoric hand is across my mouth
Again…
My words are held captive
Racing round and round
Within my brain
Out of control
Unable to find escape
Tormenting
Damning
Shaming
Me
Again…
When my words stop flowing
They begin piling up within
Like unread books
Stacked randomly
Teetering
With constrained
Vulnerability
On an unstable shelf
Until
The shelf fails
The books fall
Pages scatter
The metaphoric is torn away
Allowing my words escape
Liberated
Flooding forth
Demanding coherance
Gaining volume
Reclaiming power
And my healing process
Continues
Again…
Until my words stop flowing
Again….
Lockdown = trauma brain triggers
My brain has been all over the place during this tumultuous period of our lives
There have been so so many triggers
I have really been struggling to process them all
My emotional state has been highly disturbed and at a very low ebb
Modern technology has been both a curse and a blessing
The curse of information overload
what to believe
what to not
who to believe
who to not
I have learnt to use Zoom which has been such a blessing as the one certainty each week has been my hour with my therapist
It is the 9am appointment that I have to get out of bed and show up for
She has helped me unravel my trauma brain amongst all of this confusion
The first week was so bad
I was drowning in isolation
I did not cope
with being locked in
with being controlled
with being silenced
with living in fear
Unraveling…
Taking it back…
Processing…
As a child
I was mind controlled
I was silenced by fear
I was isolated by fear
and I was locked in by the knowledge that if I spoke up I would destroy so much
By keeping silent I was protecting everyone else
but also protecting myself
I found strength enough to hold the abuse
But I wasn’t strong enough to endure the consequences of breaking silence
My brain was fighting, struggling with being taken back down that dark trauma rabbit hole
I was drowning
Once I was able to process and identify
I spoke up
Voiced my fears
And I was heard
My friends and family heard my cry for help
And through video coffee dates and phone calls
And walks in the sunshine & lots of supportive cuddles from my love
I have made it through thus far
“My life is so blessed with some of the most amazing people. Thank you for being part of my journey.” – Unknown
Living with the myself ain’t easy
I never recognised depression or anxiety within myself for many many years
My perceived strength didn’t allow me the grace to recognise or acknowledge them
I was too strong
I had to be strong
to survive
Along the way there were times
When I cracked
just a little bit
But not enough for me to acknowledge the causes or the effects
It took me a very long time to completely break
But in breaking I then began learning about myself
Learning that my strength was what protected me
Helped me endure
Helped me cope through all the traumas
But even the strongest things become brittle over time
And brittle breaks
And despite all the therapy over the past 8 years
all the self learning
all of the self care I am allowing myself
Yes – I still have to negotiate in my head that I need and deserve to love myself enough to care about myself
that I deserve to put me first
I still break
But each time it is a less substantial break
I give so much of myself
I still put myself last
I still struggle to stand up
and speak out
for me
I am so good at standing for others
speaking up for others
advocating for others
But I am total shit about advocating for myself
And that is classic victim mentality
Damnit!
On the home front here in New Zealand
Sexual abuse victims are able to access therapy via ACC sensitive claims
Part of this involves undergoing psychological assessments to ascertain authenticity and then ongoing treatment / well-being plans
Some fight this process
They perceive a stigma attached with mental health diagnosis
I don’t have an issue with it
If my legs were broken or paralysed I would accept help
So if my inner being is damaged I also need to accept help
Since I broke eight years ago I have undergone two assessments
I got to a place where I was so broken I needed to accept help
No matter where it came from
And no matter what strings they attached
I was initially diagnosed with PTSD
that’s an easy one
yeah, well not so easy really
It’s actually a bloody nightmare to live with
but I’ve managed to wrap my head around that over the past 8 years
and I’ve been learning to understand myself within it
But during my recent assessment there was an added diagnosis
Recurrant Depressive Disorder
Great!
Another official stamp
I so hate being put into boxes
But officialdom decrees that to fund my ongoing healthcare I have to tick boxes
So anyways…
Combine these two along with the constant sleep disorder that delights in being part of the party
And the results are at times not pretty
Several weeks ago the tears began
The sleeplessness revved up
I was breaking
Life was attacking me from so many quarters
It is like I have 69 different people demanding from me all at the same time
But each of those 69 do not realise that there are 68 others
It is like a relentless attack on my brain
My nervous system goes into hypervigilance
I become incredibly anxious
My sleep becomes fitful
exhaustion, migraines, physical pain, irritibilty, all increase
I become hyper alert, hyper aroused, anxious, fearful,
And the tears just wont stop
I know that living with me is hard
but
Living with my self is nigh impossible
I am becoming more aware now though
And trying to be more proactive when I feel myself breaking
Recently I just had to shut down
I allowed myself to
Take time
Pull back
Unload
Accept help
Increase self care
And, the biggest hurdle of all
Ask for help
Sometimes talking with my therapist is not quite enough to get through these patches
This time I have started taking natural ‘meds’
Personally I struggle with taking medication
I have fought it for years
But now, after a consultation, I am taking 5htp, B6 plus some extra strength multi vitamins
They seem to be helping
I am feeling changes
A few days in and I realised
I was smiling again
I am also making a resolved choice to pull myself out of this current hole
I’m not out of it yet
But I sure as hell am a heap better than I was several weeks ago
And I sure as hell am so grateful for my BFF’s who carry me through these dark days in their own special ways
and to my incredibly supportive fiancé who holds the umbrella during my storms, he not only encourages me to go lion buying – he goes with me 🙂
Robot on the loose!!
Arggghhhhh!!!!!!
Processing through another massive trigger attack
Trying to describe what happens within
to explain the outward displays of apparent irrational behaviours
Well they seem to be irrational
to those who are not living in my skin
But in my head Robot is blindly circling amok yelling
‘danger! danger! danger! danger!
do not compute!’
distressing my brain even more
exposing every nerve ending
until they are bleeding raw pain
Every part my body is fraught
on edge
skrieking at the slightest infraction
Fear rises to the surface
I’m frightened
of everything I perceive as threatening
anything that might possibly compromise my safety
of loss
of death
just. plain. scared.
I cry
all the time
tears flow too damn freely
uncontrollable
I hate myself
for being like this
Processing deeply
trying to understand myself
Trying to understand myself so others might try to understand me
How can they
when I struggle to understand myself
Where is our Manaakitanga
Recent events in Aotearoa / New Zealand stunned our nation – again
A young English backpacker was murdered here just before Christmas.
We were devastated – again
Standing amongst the Nelson crowd
All of us mourning this young woman
Each one of us there for different reasons but for the same reason
Sadness
Grief
Anger
This should not happen
This should not keep on happening
Not here
Not anywhere
People were speaking out against violence against women across the nation
Naming and remembering the women killed by the hands of another person here in Aotearoa
Giving these women back their mana
Not mentioning the names of their murderers
We will not give them that power
Statistics say at least 13 women and 10 men will lose their lives to domestic abuse every year here in Aotearoa
14 women this past year
Countless women over the decades….
Yes, we have to stand up and speak out and stop this violence
But my inner heart was screaming…
It is not just about women
It is about inhumanity towards fellow humans
It is about respect – or lack of it
It is about responsibility towards each other
It is about Love
Since this heinous violent act was committed we have seen many more here in NZ
So much tūkino
So much whakarekereke
Too much whakarekereke ā-whare
Violence against our wāhine
Violence against our tamariki
We need Aroha
Where is our respect?
Where is our kindness?
Where is our love?
In memory of these young visitors who did not receive the Manaakitanga they deserved in our land
Grace Millane, 22
Kayo Matsuzawa, 29
Birgit Bauer, 28
Karen Aim, 27
Dagmar Pytlickova, 31
Margery Hopegood, 32
Jae Hyeon Kim, 25
Urban Hoglin, 23
Heidi Paakkonen, 21
Monica Cantwell, 24