..dear reader..

Really nasty dream last night, biggest sis said the jumper I was wearing had been a present from her to me and she wanted it back, she took it off me. I protested back my mum was on her side. Lots of trying to save babies from my mum, pointless phone calls to the police and trying to convince myself that because wee man is four hes safe now. When I first came round, first I had to figure out where I was and after that I felt like there is no fucking way I'm leaving him with them this weekend. At the moment I'm hoping its like the big talking boulders in the Labyrinth telling them to turn back, at their worst when your own the right track. Still scared though. But I need it, I need to move forward but I can't bare the thought of anything happening to him. I don't know if I should go, I know I probably will go though, I'm hard wired to be brave whenever possible. He's so adorable how can I even think of doing anything that might put him in danger.. Saw ...

Breaking Ritual Silence: An Anthology of Ritual Abuse Survivors Stories an Amazon import from the states. Excellent, I would recommend it to anyone regardless of how far along they are in terms of remembering and accepting. Not that it's the kind of thing you can read quickly, but even having it around is good. Struggling to find the right time to read though. Last night was fine, some of what I have read so far are more testaments to survival and healing rather than records of abuse, I went to sleep in hope. I read some when wee man was at nursery today and was worried that I might of been swaying I felt so dizzy waiting to pick him up with the other parents. Going to the shop and walking him home was fine, he was chatty as he usually is and we had a laugh. When we got back in I started feeling claustrophobic and really depressed again. Chances are I would be feeling that way anyway, I hate it when my birthday falls on a Sunday. Much easier for all those weekend Satanist...

I often find myself tracing a heart shape on my thumb nail, on my clothes, on the telly remote.. Last night I remembered, we were in one of the school out buildings, Craig was being raped, tortured by a man we were all watching. It was a really small school so its not impossible we were all there. I started tracing a heart shape on my finger with my thumb hoping he would feel it and he would know that love was real to. I'm not sure if our teacher was there but I remember staring at her face one time, I think it was in that same building, trying to figure out what she was feeling, what she was thinking. Was she honestly into all this? Her face contorts into joy. Been reading Breaking Ritual Silence (eds. Lorena, Levy) not an easy read but necessary. Still disheartened by how much writing survivors rely on fantastic therapists, and group therapy. Stuff like that doesn't seem to exist in Scotland, to small a country I guess. I contacted one of the editors from Manipluat...