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I hate how little snippets of memory feel more fake if I get less flooded/overwhelmed? Because that's literally just progress because of the work we've been doing in therapy but now I sometimes manage to remain more present as stuck fragments share their stories and it all just feels deeply fake because surely I should be overwhelmed, right? But I'm not. I end up just softly crying because how the fuck does a mom-
anyway, I hate how it just feels more fake. I hate it.
Being homosexual and not being able to have romantic relationships with women because of what mom did to you<<<
you made me & you took me
I just want to WRITE ABOUT THE ABUSE but I don't know how, I don't know where to start, I feel shame, I don't know. Sometimes I wish I could be like those people on reddit, "I was sexually abused by my mother from roughly ages 3 til 11, ask me anything!!" and then people would ask THE most detailed and curious questions and I would have a reason to just WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE AND WRITE about allllll the disgusting nitty gritty details. About the acts. The sensations. The dirty little mix of attachment and love and sex. The different moms that did different sorts of abuse. The different disgusting shameful things I did to avoid her. How, sometimes, I was a little girl who wanted it. About all of it!
anyway [breathes in and out] [downs another glass of wine]
I am doing so well
Reread my initial letter to my mom and tbh. Just really deeply hurt and sad and confused because reading back what I wrote to her? It makes her stupid little 4 sentence reply even more crazy.
I wrote to her that she abused me for years. I wrote to her that I now understand how I both hated her and needed her so much all my life, that I now know why I always felt so disgusted towards her: she abused me.
I wrote that I am telling her now because I can no longer carry this secret in silence. That I am giving myself the safety she took away from me. That I am not the perpetrator who tore this family apart.
How the fuck do you ignore that? What kind of mindfuckery is she doing? How does she not even deny it? How does she simply... erase it? I just want to sob but I can't. I feel so locked up. Why am I nothing.
WHY DON'T I MATTER
(Sorry. Being a drama queen. Dramatic baby. I dunno.)
(Saw an instagram post of my sister and my dad was at her beautiful backyard bday party and my sister wrote "how lucky I am to have so many lovely people around me" as a caption and I'm. I just have no words. How can they? How can they? How can they? They alsways stuck together. They always dumped me with mom. Was mom there too, outside of the picture? Or was only my dad there? I don't know. I'll never know anything anymore. Why not just fucking erase me?)
(God I'm spiralling. I need to go to bed. Long work day again tomorrow, can't have emotions! Haha! I just love having to pay rent! I just love having to work! Haha!) (I slept like 4-5 hours last night. Period pains are trying to take me out. Had a work evening thing after work today so I got home at like 8:30. Now it's past 10 and I need to go sleep. I don't want to go sleep. I want time for myself. But alas! Time for myself is a luxury I do not have right now. FUCK THATTTTTTT.)
(Sorry. Rambling. Going now.) (Yes brain. I know no one cares. Shut up shut up shut uppppppp.)
How do you go about telling friends about the csa?
I don't usually plan it, I didn't plan to tell it yesterday. But this friend already knew I am no contact with my parents, and I talked about the letters a bit. At some point she said something like, "I'm not asking what the letters are about, but not because I don't want to know but because I don't know if you want to share".
I debated it a bit, told her that I sometimes worry about burdening people with it. She reassured me she can take care of herself, and then I just blurted it out.
I am by no means good at this. I started laughing a bit from awkwardness and just apologized to her. But her reaction was pure and honest and she was brave enough to ask some questions. I love when people manage to do that, that really means so much to me.
So yeah. That's how I go about it and every time I feel like "oh my god this was bad" afterwards. But I guess there's just (for me, at this point of healing) no better way to drop the "yeah my mom actually molested me" bomb. And then I make sure to not even specify how young it started or how long it kept going or any details at all (unless people ask).
I do try to give people the space to ask questions, but the awkwardness of kinda having to take care of the other person while the other person is also struggling with "no this is bad for YOU, you don't have to take care of me", it's just difficult. But every time I make it through this with a friend, as awkward as it is, it heals something in me.
Hi! I have a parts/trauma question for you for when you´re in the mood for one. You "discovered" (this isn´t exactly the right word for it I think, "got to know" maybe idk?) the csa at a bit of a later age right? Do you think that was parts-related, that certain parts held or hold those memories and the memories came when those parts came out or you got to know them? Or how do you think that worked/felt for you?
Hey anon, thank you for asking so nicely :)
Yeah, I was roughly 30 when I started remembering. To be honest the whole "things coming into my consciousness" process was so long, slow, and painful that I can't really pinpoint when exactly it started. It faded in and out of the almost-knowing for quite a while.
And yeah, I believe it had to do with parts and how my system works. It feels like all the csa-stuff was hidden in a deeper layer of the system that I did not know before. There are connections between that layer and parts I *did* already know, but I wasn't aware of that.
I believe that certain parts (one of whom is Britney) were unconsciously looking for a "safe place" to allow the breaking down of dissociation. I believe that's why things clashed so thoroughly with T, I also believe that's why we've clashed soooo much with A - and why it's so important that A always remained steady and reliable.
Much of the csa is held by fragments. In Dutch, I refer to them as "the army of little girls" (somehow the army-association feels bad in English but not in Dutch - it has nothing to do with war or army or fighting, it's more a description of "large group").
It felt like a specific part (Ruby) had a key role in the remembering. In the months (year?) leading up to the remembering, she emailed A. For a long time, I kept insisting that what she wrote was metaphorical (e.g. "Mom put her bad in me"). Then the first visual & somatic symptoms showed up, though I don't think any of it was so "first this, then that", if that makes sense. All very blurry and dissociate-y.
It feels like once I managed to listen to Ruby, she kind of... vanished? and the dozens of fragments she had been hiding showed up. Sometimes slowly, sometimes like an avalanche.
For some of these girls, once they get to share what they carry, it feels like they melt into a growing blob of 'little girl'. Some of these girls carry a bit more and have shown up multiple times, for these girls I use descriptions. Once I get to know them, their pain slowly gets softer.
I could write a lot more about it, but that's kinda how it's worked for us I think. It feels extremely incomplete but I think that whole process of remembering was so painful that it's hard to create a clear narrative. I'm grateful I wrote a lot (though I wish I had written more).
I'm not sure if all of this makes sense lol, but feel free to send a follow-up ask if you want to. I could write so much about this, and about working with all these parts, and we actually talked about it in therapy a bit today so your question very much aligns with what's in my thoughts right now :')
Therapy was so much and so good but so heavy. Showed A all the things that we made since the weekend (9 drawings & two little pages with some writing) which was really really scary. I was so afraid it would be too much - too explicit, too disgusting - and that A would get upset or angry or that I'd cross a boundary and hurt her. But she kept saying, "I'm a professor in awful things, I can take it" which was both so funny and so cute and also it worked.
(Okay also after I had been going back and forth on giving her the first drawing for a while, A said "Sae, I already saw it because the paper shines through, so just give it to me..." lmao)
And then, when all the drawings were laying on the floor, we used the emotion cards and the wooden peg dolls to figure out what feelings were there and what parts were around. It was really heavy and painful. A lot happened that I want to write about but it feels like too much and also I have to leave the house in 20 minutes so I have to hurry a bit (gotta get changed etc.).
But at some point Pip burst out crying about how she "just wanted to go cuddle mom". She cried that she didn't know what was happening to the other girls, that she thought mom was nice and good. She howled "sorry!!! am so sorry!!!" and then sobbed and asked A, "does this mean it is all my fault?"
A was really gentle to her and coached me to try and stay with Pip through this and hold her in her sadness. So intense and so exhausting. My head hurts, my stomach hurts. But I gotta go be a big functional grown-up now because tonight is my first meeting of the new volunteer position.
