September 06, 2011
Today has been a strange mixture of feeling crushed and okay. I am accepting I need a lot of attention right now and for the foreseeable future and am so much less annoyed with myself for not being 'normal'. I could smile at myself for not doing the dishes tonight, they are soaking and can be easily rinsed in the morning. I will need to stay busy tomorrow morning away because I will be weedless, which will be all lot more bearable now I've realised myself from the course and have ordered healing books. I feel like I'm going through something important right now, its really starting to sink in that I have options and futures now. That the decisions I make effects my future - fancy that..
My little spiritualism is still vulnerable but getting better. I know I still need it, some sort of vague faith in forces in the universe that are so far unknown. Experience and insight taught me it was bad to let someone else tell you what religious truth is, it is personal and unique to everyone. I believe that so little is understood about life in general but people's brains in particular that the truth would sound like magic. I believe in telepathy and shared hallucinations that can be manipulated. I believe in these things because I have experienced them and was charged with developing skills to enable people to control others telepathically. I am well past believing all this is just a pretty story made up to hide the truth because it is the truth that I made up stories to protect me from. It was all about extremes, and harnessing the powers that people have when they endure extremes stress. I wish I did not have these beliefs but it could be worse, after all I believe in 'group hallucinations' not resurrection or instant healing that I have heard other survivors discuss. I have those memories to but can't believe them, partly because it seems so impossible but partly because I was involved behind the scenes more. Something about the way I split made me very useful to some. It's horrible there is so much information in me that could help so many others but I am just not able to go to the places in my head that I would need to. But there needs to be more to me than 'ritual abuse', more than a machine that churns out the past for the benefit of others.
Saying that I know I have a lot more to say and will be blogging by thoughts and reactions to 'The Courage to Heal' to help me sort it all out in my own head and just to have a voice I suppose. But I'm keeping my odd beliefs with pride, for the moment anyway.
I couldn't say much of this to your face. I learned that talking about rape and telepathy in the same breath isn't too smart, kind of takes away your credibility. So I had to start compartmentalising it all, making layers of truth for me to uncover when the time was right.
Then of course I was always interested in spirituality, religion, ideas about the soul and such so maybe the abuse would have looked very different to me if my head wasn't full of the otherworldly already? One things for sure there was diffidently a lot of rape and a lot of drugs and the occasional murder.
September 05, 2011
Don't know when it started without anyone else involved though, but it was bad in my early teens, until I learned enough violence to fight him off. But I remember the red glow of a cigarette and his smell in the dark when I was younger, and that horrible feeling that he was 'one of them' to and that I had no hope. He is an alcoholic and of course that doesn't mean he did it anymore than my mother's smoking is a means as a blocking her inability to stop it. But as I write this I see her screaming no and launching at him and an earlier memory of middle sis telling me it was all my fault. Did he rape me in front of them? That might of been to much for my mother, behind closed doors is one thing in the living room in front of everyone without any others - my mother tolerated it all by compartmentalising this would have crossed a boundary for her. Stuff at parites of course there was always drugs and it started too young for me to remember anything real. Just that feeling of being in a room after it happened, staring at the same objects and patches on the wall I stared at then. Telling myself then that I knew it was happening, that I loved her, think I stopped telling her it would never happen again. I was so small.
So am I going to end up remembering it all? Or walking around accepting that as a child and young adult I was drugged up by strangers, family and friends and handed about at parties like a toy. They would always arrange for any possible friends I had to be at the next one. I'd hang around with people I knew would fail me because at least then I wouldn't get my heart broken quite so much. How do I reclaim my body after that?
'She likes it'
I just don't get how getting someone wasted and fucking them in front of people could be entertaining. So it would happen again because I just couldn't believe those around me would let that happen to me never mind take part.
So I smoked joints, like I am now so that the present becomes the past, the pain turn to aches, my muscles relax and my brain turn to prettier things, pretty things in me that I kept for myself and no one else. I'm thinking I could maybe share them more now.
I'm just not in the right place to argue with the ideas of Descartes, Mill and so many others. Their ideas were used in the ritual abuse to, not that I can remember how exactly beyond books being used as physical weapons that is. Having intellectual dicussions with group leaders was part of my training/trials it helped them get right inside my head.
So, I've ordered 'The Courage to Heal' and a book on healing my inner child. I was lent a copy of 'The Courage to Heal' when i was in refuge for the first time but was no where near ready for it. It helped me see how I was still surving in a state of constant crisis no where near thriving, which at the time didnt feel particulry helpfull. I think is also contains accounts by ritual abuse survivors, which had a massive impact on me in terms of believing myself. I don't think going back will be a walk in the park but I need to do something, continuing the way I am has never or rarely been an option. I was always being damaged so my sense of self protection is geared to moving on, I was never home but now its different and have to turn all that energy into healing and its not easy. Healing and surviving can seem like opposites when its on going. How could I talk to an inner child that was being tortured regularly by people with great intelligence and torture experience, all she wants is to share the details. Details I couldn't handle when it was still happening, my body was screaming those details at me all the time I couldn't let myself see her if I wanted to keep going.
Now I have to put all the thoughts of what might of been, and might still be to look at myself as is. To accept the multiples that where abusers along with the warriorers, earth mothers, priestesess, police informers, party girls, international spys, property developers and fuck knows what else. I remember always resisting the abuse of children but got to really enjoy non sexual violence against people I saw to be 'real' rapists, I knew that if I kept 'taking it to far' they would stop using me. Remebering little flashs of the things I've done gives me very mixed feelings. I'm amazed and shocked that I could do so much damage to someone, then I remeber aspects of where the violence came from and stop thinking about it. I've got a lot of guilt, complex, twisting, ingrained guilt and I want shot of it.
September 04, 2011
The order of service was forced in my hand but I didn't want anything to do with it. I knew too many words would be missing but I was glad they'd used her favourite picture all hair, tan, smile and Scotland undulating behind white clouds gathering above. Although she swore she had a shocking hangover that day I was never sure. She didn't seem that drunk the night before when she came out of the dark of my tent at me her skin all smooth and cold like tatties out the fridge.
I looked like you when I was younger. A photo at the bun fight proved it, the cutting slope of our noses that ask to be broken. Earlier at the family grave I choked on the smoke of our shared vice as the grandkids threw dirt on her lid. I felt the words she used on me too often scar
across my brain, Yi can.
September 03, 2011
September 02, 2011
September 01, 2011
Today I played the part of the character based on middle sis while young dude asked the questions I wrote for her. My questions were all based on asking her why she hurt me. My answers were short just whatever came into mind. Then everyone else could ask my character questions to the group 'teacher' had lots. Afterwards I talked about a greenybrowny feeling in my belly and we moved on to someone else. It's not easy when the focus is on you, but we all go because we need it, the spotlight that is, just for a second.