Category: Sexual Abuse

Long post, go get the popcorn!

I have spent months processing some issues that have caused ongoing major triggers for me
I’ve been unsure as to why the reactions were so strong
I understood part of them
But it was only recently that I fully understood the depths of the why

And before I start
I want to add
that it is NOT mandatory for ANYONE to have ANY medical tests that they do NOT want to have!
So please allow me the grace to make my own decisions re my own health


Backtracking
to the beginning of this story
We needed to have some blood tests done
So made appointments at our local medical centre
Because of the state of our medical system in NZ currently there are currently no resident doctors at our centre
So we have to see the nurses.
As we do not make a habit of seeing doctors it’s been a while
We both are patients of a Dr in the USA so are not being irresponsible
In fact we are very proactive about our health
Hence staying with a Dr who works with us as we need despite the distances

During our appointment the nurse started scrolling through my records
and I started getting the inquisition
‘You haven’t had a mammogram’
“No – I have thermograms and I am actually scheduled for one next week “
‘You haven’t had a cervical smear in a long time’
“No, I don’t actually want one”
Then the coercions began
‘It’s over 5 years so it’s free for you’
‘It’s so easy now, you just do it yourself’
‘Here you go, go do it now while I sort your husband’s blood tests’
I felt cornered, to an extent bullied…
I acquiesced and went
I came away feeling incredibly angry with myself for not fighting for myself

A week later
We were away from home
I get a call from her
Telling me that HrHPV had been detected
And I needed to come in for a ‘proper cervical smear’
She insisted I make an appointment for when we returned home
So from then I was riding the Rollercoaster of Fear!
I couldn’t talk to anyone
Until my therapist processed things with me
My choices were
– do nothing
– go have it done
– ask for another nurse as I had felt so bullied by the first one
I was already riding the rollercoaster so doing nothing was a hard option
I was triggered, distressed, angry

After a few days I called the clinic and asked to see a different nurse
one of my choice
All good!

So a week later we were home and I dutifully went
I was absolutely stunned when the first nurse came to get me
I was not happy
I felt trapped again
I managed to reiterate that I had not wanted the smear in the first place
That I had asked for another nurse
So she went to find her and I was able to switch rooms right away
This nurse I feel more comfortable with
I finally agreed to have the smear done
It was BLOODY awful
SO painful
In so many ways
By the time it was over I was a sobbing mess

To inflict this on a woman is bad enough
But on a woman who endured years of sexual assault and rape
This is invasive and soul destroying
I couldn’t get out of there fast enough

A week later
the results came back Negative
Same scenario as many years ago
I was so pissed off that I had allowed myself to get back on that rollercoaster

Two months later we had to return to the clinic
This time to get a prescription sorted
This time to see a locum
an unknown male doctor
As we drove
my stomach began churning
my head was pounding
I was feeling really sick
I realised I was experiencing full on panic attack
Very thankful for understanding spousal support

Also grateful to meet the doctor
as he was wonderful
and understanding
and helpful
and not a bully
Such a major relief


Moving forward a few weeks to another therapy session
Talking about other things
when all of a sudden I was hit by the understanding as to why I reacted so violently to the situation at the clinic

Yes, there was definitely the understandable reaction of an abuse victim
But there was more
and this is where it gets very personal
and you may want to leave the room about now



When I was a child
from the age of 7-8 till 18
I was a victim of incest at the hands of my father
This is not debatable
it happened
it is My Truth

I was asked last week
how did I seperate the pain from the pleasure
That is one of the hardest things for a child to compute
because incest is delivered by the person who you love and who is supposed to love you
It is not always violent
there is a lot of grooming
and is executed in a misguided ‘loving way’
so there is more pleasure than pain

Just explaining this makes me want to vomit
My response to the question came along with flashbacks that I had buried
but obviously not deep enough
“As a preteen/teen I felt incredibly trapped
and I went through the motions required just so I could escape as fast as I could”

At that moment I understood my reaction in the nurses clinic
I felt trapped
I acquiesced to enable my escape

I had retreated back into that young girl
and I did the only thing I knew how



I hope you haven’t run out of popcorn
this isn’t the end of the story
just this chapter….

Trust the Process

So
to get help
ongoing
to pursue my healing
the pathways have changed
more hoops have been added to the circus
I’m told I have to
Trust the Process

In trusting the process
I have to fit myself into
boxes that do not fit me
Boxes created by some glass towered, plastic brained, robot
who is under the very mistaken impression
that by answering
a few generic questions
They can channel me
They can fix me

I can’t Trust the Process
when they don’t See Me
when they don’t Hear Me
when they decide that categorising me
into boxes of boxes
numbered 1 to 2 to 5 to 10
is going to fix my problem

Nah!
It ain’t
All it does is
triggers the shit out of me
makes me angry
opens more wounds
creating more of a mess of me
than I was before

One of the few understanding real people
in the department
told me all those years ago
this will take you years
and years
and even more years
to heal from
He didn’t make me fill in redundant boxes
He heard Me

It took decades
to feel safe enough
to allow someone to hear
and now
I feel like I am going backwards

Trust the System
they’re not hearing Me
they’re not hearing Anyone
they just want to tick their bloody boxes
and rake in their daily dollars
and pretend they’ve fixed so many
and feel good about themselves
it is all absolute bullshit!

Forgiveness or what?


Forgiveness….
an easy word to toss around
used so freely by those within the many diverse circles of religiosity
especially those who have not experienced abuse
the placaters
the well meaners
the do gooders
the word throwers
the ones who have not stood in my shoes

Forgiveness….
This word holds so many red cards for me
I have struggled with it for decades
After being sexually & emotionally abused for years and years
the ruination of my childhood
I then go on and live through decades of spiritual abuse
and more emotional abuse
so much shaming
and blaming
and shunning
by those who can’t accept what my abuser did
So ‘forgive’ me if I sound jaded
I Am
Very Jaded

There’s gotta be a better word
Another word
A word that takes all the blame and shame
and stacks it squarely on who it belongs

Forgiveness….
Thesaurus synonyms are
absolution
clemency
compassion
dispensation
grace
mercy
reprieve
vindication
amnesty
reprieve
etc
All ideations from religiosity

Then there is this
noun  as in pardon; end of blame
End of blame
Well fuck me thrice over
There is no way I am ever going to end the blame
I will never forget what was done to me
I will never forget the childhood that was robbed from me
I have been shamed to hell and back for nigh on 60yrs
There is no way this side of hell freezing over that I am ever going to end the blame or pardon my abuser

This probably sounds angry
that’s cuz it is
I am angry
No matter how much healing work I do
it always comes back to
bloody forgiveness!

I am not allowing anger to eat me up
I am angry
but anger is not possessing me
I was recently told that
“Holding on to anger
Is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die“
so hop off your high horses
don’t start the lectures
don’t drop the platitudes
If I was drinking the poison
I wouldn’t be processing
I wouldn’t be writing
This is the way I know how to release

I am doing the work
the work I shouldn’t have to be doing
cuz it all comes down to the fact
that if what was done To me
hadn’t been done To me
then I wouldn’t have to be asking

Forgiveness or what?
There must be another word…

Finding Courage

When you are living and healing from years of abuse
you face daily conundrums
you are processing and growing
and trying valiantly to heal
in a way that allows you to regain your true self
the issue is though
that you actually don’t know who that is
your abuser striped the knowing of your self
away from you the moment he took you

you spend a life time
trying to regain some sense of self
self preservation
self worth
self confidence
so many self’s
but you constantly ride a see-saw
scared of becoming
self centred
self focused
self ish

so you bury your own self in the search of yourself
and get lost in others self’s

instead of fighting your own dragons
you protect your self by fighting for and with others against their dragons
because instinctively you recognise those are the same dragons you need to fight
but they are a step removed from yours so it is less painful

you become a warrior
fighting the cause
and sympathy becomes empathy
but carrying load after load of others pain
becomes too heavy

and then warriors break
but only when broken can you truly focus on self healing
only then do you realise the courage it has taken to get you this far
so much courage taken to stay alive
it
is
exhausting

but your journey towards self growth has just begun

you then face more conundrums
how do you heal?
do you
continue to bury the truths of your abuse
do you
continue the cycle by
Not airing your dirty linen in public?
Keep sweeping the dirt under the carpet?
Shut your mouth cuz it might offend others?

do you stand up and fight
do you speak your truths

you have to find Your own courage
fight your own battles
no one else will fight them for you

you will need to dig deep and find your courage
to fight your abuser for the rest of your life
even when he is no longer on this planet
his dragons will still breath fire through the mouths of others

because no matter how many times you are told
it was not your fault
it always comes back to
it is
Your dirty linen
Your dirt
Your abuse

It is absolute shit
revictimisation at his finest

it takes an exhausting amount of courage
every day
to refuse to wear
his dirty linen
his dirt
his abuse

it take courage every day
to tame your dragons

Train wrecked

When life is trucking along
you are hit by small triggers spasmodically but you just stop briefly and deal with them as they bump you
then you’re back on course again
till the next wee one
They feel big
But in actuality they’re just potholes that reduce your speed momentarily

But when out of left field
a huge train mows you down
you don’t have time to run for cover
It unleashes all the demons that you’ve managed to keep locked in your basement for the past years

It
sucker punches
gut punches
derails you

all the tips and techniques you’ve learnt
all the therapies
all the breathing
everything just flies out the window

Those demons start playing havoc in your head
reigniting memories
exhausting you with all the ‘whatifs’
all the ‘whys’

Taking me down trails I don’t want to go
the overgrown tracks I have been consciously avoiding
shutting out
closing my mind to
No!!
I don’t want to go there again
No more
Stop!!!

The anger
the grief
the absolute sadness
and the feelings of betrayal

The betrayal is the worst
all these years and they knew
but they stayed silent

The betrayal….

my fight is gone

anger
rage
burns into a blankness of nothingness

the fight I’ve felt
the fight I’ve fought
nine years of active duty for my baby

two years of
holding him
fighting him
fighting for him
containing him
suffering with him
but
not understanding
not knowing
the cause
or the pain

then
the discovery
the horror
the disbelief
and weirdly, the relief
as if a diagnosis can heal a broken soul
of course it can’t
but it gives perspective
and some understanding

then finally
the arrest

and then the silencing began
the waiting
holding our breath
keeping our tongues lawfully gagged
closed mouths
unable to release the anger and fears contained within my mothers heart
so many tears
the anxieties
and perplexities
watching his continuing agonies
his blacknesses
his fear and incapacities to live fully
shared anger
shared pain

after four years of being silenced
facing that monster who broke my child
who tried to destroy us
finally being allowed to voice
the hatred
my anger
for all his despicable evilness

then the feeling of bewilderment
as the silencing continues
our judicial system
works slowly
inefficiently
almost impotently
the temptation to allow a bullet or a rope
is so great
but reality checks our responses

finally
his name is revealed to all
but only to all who care
only to those who give a damn
his name is a 5 min wonder in the daily newspaper
buried unless you know

26 months
for all the pain and the torture inflicted upon us all
26 months
for lives wrecked and destroyed
26 months…
words fail me
I’m silenced again
this time by my inability to express brokenness

then after not long enough
gut slamming phone calls
parole board mandatory reports
received when least expected
bolts from the blue
jarring me back
to those years past

re-opening the numbed lesions of my soul
released after 17 months served
how is this justice
my body tries to find the anger
and the rage
but all that’s left is
soul destroying numbness
helplessness
nothingness
blankness

the proverbial rug has been completely pulled from under
the silence is continuing
ringing in my ears so loudly
i cannot hear
i’m crushed
my fight is broken

this pain
shouldn’t be my pain to carry
but this is my baby
my precious, precious child
the one I birthed and have nurtured for over 2 decades
his pain
is my pain
a mother carries her child’s pain
as if it were her own
in the hopes
that he will eventually be free of his own









planetary flows

tides ebb and flow
planets come and go
mercury retrogrades
moons collide
solar flares
lunar eclipses
natures mysteries abound


growing through conservative christianity
taught everything outside was evil
don’t do this
don’t touch that
you’ll allow the devil his hold

wakening now
realising
that I am part of this awesome universe
created by God
and in the being part of
I am feeling part of
so the ebbs and flows
effect my very core

being the very practical being I am
sceptical of things unknown
things unseen that I cannot prove
yet now
I am feeling
and recognising the ebbs & flows
that are affecting my essential self

my life is my long journey
and yet in the aeons of time
it is but a brief blink
connected to the universe of which I am just a tiny speck
I am but a pin prick
feeling such insignificance
how and why does the universe care enough about me
to include me in its ebbs & flows

I am but sand on the shore
a drop of water within the seas
but my life has relevance
and meaning
I must hold some importance
otherwise why am I here

growing up through the Age of Aquarius
it was but a mere song
a hippie chick sang
living on the fringes of churchism
feeling frowned upon for even thinking the lyrics
but on delving in
I see its relevance during my lifetime

apparently though
I have the energy of Sun in conjunct with Pluto
a rare thing indeed
my presence on this planet is to do what I am doing
I am not just a mere speck
I am burning, cleaning, clearing the way
facing the darkside
constantly transforming
articulating
communicating to others

by opening up my heart
allowing the blood of my traumas to flow
releasing the pain and reality of my damaged soul
I am letting the sunshine in
to the hearts of others
as they resonate with my words
no matter the darkness they hold
or the life they bring

sharing gives strength
breaking darkness to let the light in
releasing energy
breaking tensions
allowing the ebb & flow of my life
to encourage others
that is my reason for living

Living Fully Creative Therapy

My journal page during the weekend
quote Ann Voskamp

I spent the end of March and the first two days of April participating in a Living Fully Creative Therapy Group
3.25 very intense days 😥
It was a ‘retreat’ for sexual abuse survivors.
I was fortunate to be put forward for funding to attend.
It was with much trepidation that I agreed.
I didn’t know what to expect so went with no expectations.
I deliberately booked myself into a motel nearby as I knew that I would not cope with the travel too and fro after such intensive days.
That was a self care move and a good one
I was right.
I needed space for me each night.

We were a small group of victims in varying stages of healing.
It was challenging, disturbing, distressing, amazing, painful and wonderful all at the same time.
To be able to freely communicate and be heard & believed and supported in such a safe way was actually incredible.

I’ve never experienced psychodrama or group therapy before 😬
It was certainly very interesting, challenging and emotionally draining.
Actively participating in the dramas was definitely not something I was comfortable to do
I preferred the role of witness and giving feedback
This was an important part of the proceedings
The art therapy portions were certainly more my thing
There just wasn’t enough of them for me 😉


What did I take from my time there?

Firstly – I learned that I can participate, or not, at whatever level I am comfortable with and saying no is very ok.
And I was commended for doing so.

Secondly – I learned that I can hold my own space.
That I’m important and have as much right as anyone else to hold space.
That I’m not taking from anyone else.
And that in owning my space I’m also giving to others.

Thirdly – I learned that I was believed.
At all times.
I was supported and held in the safest place I’ve ever been in.
In the past when I have tried talking openly I’ve been shutdown & silenced.
That is revictimisation and I will no longer allow myself to be a victim of that.

Fourthly – I have never read my work aloud to anyone before.
I usually write & run.
But this time they wanted my words.
They asked me to read to them.
Their responses were more than could’ve imagined.
So much empathy, compassion, & identifying.
I felt validated.
As a writer.
As an artist.
As a woman.

An initial 20min exercise at my Living Fully Workshop.
The colours portray different areas of my life, the brown are the shadows that people can’t & don’t want to see

Day 2 of my Living Fully Workshop. 20min Art expression session
Words which are all part of me at any given time….

it wasn’t rape, was it?


I didn’t fight
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

They were doctors
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

He was my husband
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I said yes because I was afraid he would kill me
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I kept quiet so my kids wouldn’t wake
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I was a child and he said he loved me
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

He was a friend, relation, I knew him well
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I wasn’t wearing enough clothing
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I was walking home alone at night
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

He said I obviously didn’t love him if I didn’t
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I was intoxicated and cannot remember
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

He said he would buy me drugs is I did
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

He didnt use his penis
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I don’t have any bruises
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

I forgot to lock the door
so it wasn’t rape
was it?

the excuses and the shaming are endless….


I am angry to the core of my soul every time I hear the excuses
the humiliation of diminishment
the dismissiveness

Rape is power & control
Rape is abuse
Rape is predominantly male against female
but not exclusively so

Rape is fucking Rape
so
Stop
dumbing it down
and
Stop
Shaming the victims!

Just Fucking Stop!

My incomplete Fucked Up list

quote Russell Brand – Step 4 from RECOVERY

For the past few days my mind has been a mash up of blank emotions
Feeling with others
Identifying with parts of their stories
But not knowing how to process my own
Because it just feels too huge
Too complicated
Where do I start
my PTSD,
my ball of string, has so many pieces rolled into it
some are long, very very very long
and others are short, abrupt, moments
with many varying lengths between

This morning Russell Brand challenged me loud and clear
He pushed me up off of my pillows and said
Start writing!

Here goes….

My father
He was my main fuck up
He fucked me up so fucking good
He spent my entire childhood ensuring I was totally fucked up
And he did such a good job of it
Incest is the most confusing type of sexual abuse anyone can endure
No violence involved
Just so called love and enjoyment
It turns my stomach to recall how much he made me enjoy what he did to me
For over 10 years
That is a total screw up in anyones brain
I bury those memories so deep
But this morning they are surfacing
And I am SO FUCKING ANGRY
He stole so much from me
The pleasure of actually knowing when I lost my virginity
Or the ability to give consent and give myself to who I wanted
The never knowing when, because it is blurred into obscurity
The not knowing how to guide my own children
My children – OMG don’t get me started on that
He locked my emotions up so fucking much
I didn’t know how to parent or communicate with me own children
I so fucked up my own children

That day we were going to visit our friends
the day our landrover rolled off the road and down the bank
the day the one man I trusted
let me down for the first time
that one error of judgement
set triggers alight that haunt me decades later
fears that seem now to be irrational
but are so fucking real
fear of falling
fear of losing my children
fear of confined spaces
fear of losing control
fears, irrational and uncontrollable fears…

Home from the hospital
an innocent comment
A curious question
Allowed us to discover our precious daughter
had been abused whilst we were away
she was in the care of someone we trusted
but still a fucked up deviant who managed to get to my precious little girl
So Fucking Up and So Fucking Angry

A month later
pregnant with very unplanned baby No4
after pelvic injuries, broken left ankle, sprained right knee
and weeks on crutches
after a month of painkillers
after a month of vomiting
then
bleeding
a bucket full of bleeding
nearly died getting to the hospital
I lost my baby

Abused by a hospital doctor
another man I should’ve been able to trust
my husband’s ignorance/innocence in female medical stuff allowed it to happen
Nurses enveloped me
allowed me to cry
helped me understand what he did to me was wrong
a week later
re-admittance
a repeat proceedure
re-traumatisation

Finally home
Fucked up again
No you can’t grieve your baby
You gotta praise God
Cuz you gotta accept its all part of his plan
So no tears
No sadness
Let’s just praise God and carry on living
So Fucked Up

Baby No5
Perfectly normal pregnancy
Horrendous delivery
Hospital trauma
Stirrups
Huge needle in my spine during stage 2
Total evacuation of my uterus
Post birth – you need to get out of bed
Migraine to the max
Oops – another medical fuckup
More needles in my spine
“oh you have a wee boy after 3 girls. How lovely”
No fucking way do I want this kid!
I am in so much pain and you expect me to love this baby
10 days to finally hold and begin to love my boy
Such a Fuck Up



Baby No7
7 years later
My friends enveloped me
Finally I was allowed to grieve
But along the way
pieces of trauma
varying degrees of severity
adding up
relationships
family dramas
accidents
business issues
so many traumas
and falls, so many falls
culminating in years and years of body pain
But swept aside as just another thing to deal with
I kept busy, keeping busy
Running the farm
Doing all the bookwork
Raising & educating my 10 living children
Feeding the myriads that surrounded our family table each day
Encapsulating extreme busyness!
I was really, really good at keeping busy

Unknowingly
My stress bucket was filling
then one evening
one small thing was said
But it was magnificent & breathtaking in its delivery
and its magnificence overflowed my bucket
And I broke
An emotional breakdown that
completely unhinged me
Threw me off of my rotation
And spin me out of my carefully controlled busyness
It totally bewildered my husband
It completely blindsided me
But actually
I wasn’t shocked
I had been quietly screaming for help since I was a small child

That Fuck Up led me on my course of discovery and healing
And I am so fucking grateful I began then

Because the 2nd biggest Fuck Up of my life happened two years later

On the 17th February 2013
see! this time I remember all
everything
each detail of that day is marked with such clarity

My husband,
My Timmy
The man who had loved me since I was 14 years old
The man who saved me and cherished me
The man I loved so much
left for town
and he never came home
He was killed
Instantly
only 20mins from our home
when his vehicle left the road and rolled 200m down the hillside

The trauma from that moment
has overshadowed almost every other trauma in my life
I was so Fucked Up and Fucked Over by the police, victim support etc
The people that are supposed to be there for you
What a massive Fucked Up!
the spiral rippling effect this one event has had
on myself
my children
our extended family
is beyond belief
I cannot even write this without crying
I can talk about my abuse
I can get angry, feel sad, etc
But I can’t cry
But for this my heart cries
It is like a bottomless well of tears that will never stop
They are always there
No matter how happy my life is or how content I am in the moment
This trauma has fucked me up like no other




Leaving our home of over 40 years
Packing up after 4 generations
that was traumatic in itself
The splintering of our family
The inability of my children to process and support each other as they each reeled in their own pain
We have been so Fucked Up

Moving to the city
Creating new life and new friends
exciting but
So hard
I got a job
A dream job
Working with Sexual Abuse victims
I So Loved my job
Until I was Fucked Over once again
by the person who was supposed to support us and be there for us
Our Team Manager
After a particular horrendous call out
The worst any of us had ever experienced
Instead of support and care
I was Traumatised
Victimised
Stung big time by a scorpion
Put over a barrel – had to leave
Fucked Up Again


And in amongst my story
there are my children
My children all have their own stories
I have permission to tell some
but now is not that place
Their stories require their own spaces
Their stories are interwoven with mine
through it all
We have become stronger
Still Fucked Up
But So Much Fuckin Stronger