For His Pleasure

"It's bathing suit season", I told him, "and I've been having flashbacks". Flashbacks of beach days with my stepfather and of things he wanted me to do...for his pleasure.

For his pleasure, he wanted me to sit a certain way when no one was looking, open my legs and allow him to see some pubic hair coming out of my bathing suit. Ugggh!! It was embarrassing, humiliating, frightening and shameful. Sometimes I didn't do it. Sometimes, I didn't open my legs right...sometimes, I didn't sit right...sometimes, I shaved before going to the beach...and he would be angry.

It was the shaving that brought on the flashbacks. I am now an adult, and I shave before wearing a bathing suit...like other adult women do. But this season, shaving is bringing back his intrusive memories. I am in my shower and back at the beach at the same time. I am an adult and a 12-year-old at the same time. I try to be present and push back the memories, but they return.

So I had to say something in counseling yesterday. I told my therapist everything and knew that by just being capable of verbalizing this story, I had come an incredibly long way. I felt like I owned my voice.

But I also had physical sensations after revealing my thoughts. When I was finished, my heart was pounding and burning with anger. I felt a rage for nor being allowed to enjoy the beach with my siblings, for being made to stay back alone with him while the others went in the water. Remembering makes me want to vomit. I am enraged for having to display myself for his pleasure.

Last night I slept in long-sleeved fleece pajamas. I felt the need to be cradled and caressed only by the softness of the fabric. I wanted no part of me exposed to the air or anyone's hands. In this manner, I slept well and safe.

Kate Spade is Dead

Kate Spade was found dead in her apartment two days ago. She had committed suicide. I learned of her death at the end of my therapy appointment. As I was pulling up my calendar to schedule my next appointment, I saw a push message from Google News (I really should have those settings fixed).

I was stunned to see the news, but I was at the end of my appointment and continued with scheduling the next visit and left. I didn't learn of her suicide until that night, and this is what saddened me and scared me.

I would not know Kate Spade from John Doe if I had not recently listened to a podcast where she was interviewed regarding how she built her business and line of Kate Spade bags. I assure you that I have never owned a single Kate Spade bag...or any other designer bag...it's not my thing.

After listening to the podcast, I was not any more likely to purchase her products, but I was impressed by the way she took an idea and a need and through hard work, struggle and perseverance, turned it into a very successful business. I didn't know her personally nor did I follow her closely, but she was A-OK in my book of women entrepreneurs with a ton of courage.

So hearing that she struggled with depression and took her own life after so much professional success kicked me in the gut. I hate it when people die, but a suicide sends me spinning. I think it's the "there but for the grace of God" feeling that I get. I hurt deeply for the victim, because I know what it feels like to be in that place. I am also incredibly scared because I wonder what stopped me that didn't stop them. Why she and not me? What's to say that I wouldn't find myself in that exact place in the future? I hope not.

So I Fell

I cut last night...which basically means that it's time to sort my shit again. Not that I'm not continuously sorting shit (aren't we all?), but things have started to get overwhelming. So I resorted to my old go-to method of relief...escape.

I hate to think of cutting as my "go-to method". I tell myself that it isn't. It isn't. It isn't. I just had a fall last night...that's all. There have been so many other times when I have been strong and when I have chosen differently. There have been so many other times, especially recently, when cutting hasn't even been part of the list of options. This is how I like to see myself - someone who doesn't consider self-harm as a possibility.

I just fell last night. Somehow I felt that I deserved to hurt and that the sting would quiet the screaming in my head.

Rest, Isolation, or Both?

Sometimes I wonder if there is fine line between isolation and just wanting to rest. There might be for me. I ran two flu clinics today, with a few hours in between each. I went home, wrote and rested after the first clinic. The second clinic was in the same town where my nephew and my sister-in-law live. I haven't seen them in way too long and actually want to see them, see how they're doing and chat with my nephew's mother. My second clinic would be over around dinner time, and if I texted her early and asked her to meet me for dinner I know she would more than likely agree. I didn't. I decided to wait until after the clinic and see how I felt afterward. Would I have the energy? I knew that I wanted to see them and talking with her would probably be uplifting.

I finished my clinic and decided against contacting them. I am tired. I am drained. I also stopped at a café to write and get caffeine before going home. And also because I may be afraid to go home. It may be that I just want to dive into bed and cover myself completely...gone and away for the evening.

Maybe I should have called her. The thing is that if they were to walk into this café right here right now, I would be so happy to see them. I would be elated, and we would talk and laugh and have a great evening. Then I would go home and rest, feeling so much better about it all.

That is probably what I need tonight...but I don't have the energy to make the call...or the text...or any move. I have seen other people do this. I have reached out to friends and offered my companionship and conversation whenever they need it. I have found out months later that they struggled through a tough time and never called me...they went through it alone...isolated. They didn't have it in them to make the call, but if I would have called they would have shared. I know how they felt. Sometimes you need to reach out, but everything feels way too heavy.

Write Anything

Sometimes I feel like I have to write something...anything...to get the crazies out of my head. This is me today writing anything just to get the rage out of my head. These are the times when I don't know exactly what the topic is. I don't know what it is that is knifing me...or I don't want to say...or I don't want to know.

But this time I feel a rage, a fire. I guess it's more than one thing, and maybe one thing brought it all to boiling. I want to scream, and cry and bang my head...and then I want to hide within the covers. And I want everything to be fine...or I want to be a child...but a different child...with a different childhood. The one where I am safe and everything is taken care of.

Ouch. Ugggh. That hurts so much.

The Sad Flags

I see the sad flags flying again...half-staff...again. And I look at them and cry...again. Because, again, it doesn't matter. All I think is that it doesn't matter. This country will not change. These things are sad to us...but not shocking.

I heard on NPR that Australia tightened their gun control laws, because they were shocked and outraged when thirty-five people were killed during a mass shooting. We kill fifty-eight, and we're not shocked. We kill twenty six-year old children, and it is not enough. There but for the grace of God go ours.

Seth Meyers opened his Late Show the Monday after the latest mass shooting in Las Vegas thanking and commending the first responders and blood donors who acted so selflessly and courageously after the shooting. He said that the worst in humanity is usually followed by the best in humanity...which is usually followed by no action.

I could not have said it better myself. How could this comedian have expressed so succinctly to the nation exactly what I was feeling and thinking? He said that when our Congress tells us that this is not the time to talk about gun control laws, they are telling us that we are never going to talk about it. And that if we are never going to talk about it, then they should at least be honest with us and let us know that this is just the way it's going to be from now on...which is exactly how I feel about it. It was as though my thoughts and my heart were coming out on Bluetooth through the television.

I'm not sure if I feel sad or angry about our latest Par-for-the-Course. I do know that I feel hopeless. This is the one issue that I have learned will never change no matter how hard we fight...no matter how many we kill. The NRA (I mean) Congress tells us that our guns are our identity and that is more important than people's actual lives. This December will mark the fifth year that twenty families in Newtown, Connecticut will not celebrate Christmas with the child they lost. I wonder how this has affected their identity. How can anyone forget that?

I am angry...and there's nothing sadder than feeling anger without hope.

Sleep for Healing

It occurred to me that I needed to sleep more than I needed to write. It occurred to me when I dozed off every time I started on the keyboard that I couldn't handle the subject matter. It occurred to me that my brain may have been telling me this...so I listened...and I didn't force things...and I didn't write.

I slept...and with sleep came forgetting. I forgot the feelings, the thoughts and the memories. I don't know if this was bad or good, but sleep seemed to be my savior. Even now, it's hard to leave that weightless space in the morning when fingers of light are pulling me out of my slumber.

When dreaming I'm guided to another world
Time and time again
At sunrise I fight to stay asleep
'Cause I don't want to leave the comfort of this place
'Cause there's a hunger, a longing to escape
From the life I live when I'm awake

(from Higher, Creed)

On the Edge of Pain

It was difficult for me to open my eyes to a new day this morning. It felt like the old pain was back, and I wanted to protect myself from the grip of it all...in sleep, in bed where nothing hurts.

I don't want to fall down the rabbit hole, although it feels as if I'm teeter-tottering just on the edge of it. There is no way that I'm going down there. "It's just a memory", he keeps saying to me. So I will myself out of bed, onto this blog and into the world of my children and my work.

Where do I Put the Anger?

I don't know if the raging anger or the infinite sadness was the hardest for me to manage today at EMDR. I clenched my fists around the blanket on my lap...because where was all that anger supposed to go? Not back inside of me.

And then there was the paralyzing sadness. It was hard to even speak the words...that I felt suicidal...but only in the memory. And it made me so afraid that I would carry that feeling home and not know how to handle it.

Don't Tell Anyone

Maybe it was her "Don't tell anyone" request that triggered everything. And even though I understood and agreed with her reasons and her consequences, the words still traveled back in time and yanked me along with a rubber arm that just wouldn't snap no matter how much I resisted.

There I was again. He said, "Don't tell anyone", and I was reduced to shriveling fear. I froze, and I cowered and looked at him with smallness in my face...and made sure that no one found out.