I’ve been plagued with nightmares since the abuse began when I was eight years old. Drowning nightmares. Nightmares in which I’m being chased by my brother Kevin with a knife in his hand. Nightmares in which I’m suffocating. Nightmares where someone is trying to break into my home. Nightmares that relive the gang rape when… Continue reading Nightmares
I was going through some childhood photos of myself the other day, from ages five to seventeen. In all of them, I am smiling. I found one photo to be more disconcerting and confusing above all the others. In the photo, I am standing beside my brother Kevin who had sexually abused me for five… Continue reading The Many Masks I Wear
Having grown up as a child incest and rape victim, and in a home fraught with violence, I learned that the more I did what others expected of me, the safer I would be. Growing up with an intense need to people-please caused me to acquiesce whenever people wanted me to do something. I would… Continue reading Setting Boundaries
This blog post resonates deep within me.
photo by Patricia
The hardness in my heart left no room for joy, or peace, or any kind of lasting contentment. The rage burning was not my doing, nor was the inability to know how to give it the salve needed to put out the blaze. The fire needed to speak. The family squelched that right. The family so desperately needed even if it was the source of the open, frizzling, scalding wound.
It wasn’t until over the age of fifty that facts came out of me where they had festered for decades, first as a little girl when no one came, then all the years hence where the traumas swirled. And she was like an ice box with an explosion inside.
Who will let her talk? Who will help her feel safe? And even in safety the bars of childhood silence lock her down. The filth and muddy tar…
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“No.” is a complete sentence. – Annie Lamott Photo by Jody Hong Films on Unsplash
Finding my voice means being able to speak up for myself, to feel comfortable freely expressing my thoughts, opinions, and feelings. It means being able to advocate for the things I want and need, as well as advocating for others. As a child, I had learned that what I had to say didn’t matter. Whenever… Continue reading Finding My Voice