The worst part are the memories

 

It has been a rough few nights. My body is achy, and I feel as though I have climbed mountains in my sleep.  There is no real rest; I wake up frozen in the panic of the things that I have seen and survived.  It seems that my brain is hell bent on trying to replay pieces of my story trying to make them make sense.  Really all they are doing bringing me back to a time and place that is impossible to remember and impossible to forget.  THE NIGHTMARES are brutal.  Some of them are the exact moments that are on repeat while other moments are just that moments, a moment of memory of a feeling. Often not actual memories but pieces of a memory of the things that happened so many years ago.

One morning I woke up and saw the fan and was literally frozen, in my head I was repeating their names, over and over.  Each turn I was hoping that it would be the last and they would leave.  I just watched the fan and over and over. In my head were their names Don, Chris, Steve, mike and Andy.  There were moments I was able to focus on the fan and things didn't seem so bad.  Then there were moments that things got really bad, and I wasn't even really there anymore.  I was in and out of the blackness, I guess for that I am grateful, but it makes things hard sometimes.  I think I feel guilty that I don't remember. That if things were that bad, I would remember them, right?  Or if things were so insignificant than why don't I remember.  I go to both places in my brain like well maybe it wasn't a big deal that is why I don't remember.  But there are a lot of really terrible big feelings for it to be nothing at all.  There are these terrible awful pictures in my brain, and I feel nothing.  I should be crying I should be doing something anything and yet there is nothing. There are pieces of me that see pictures and yet I feel nothing. A terrible awful movie but I am there just watching.

There was another nightmare this week and I was surrounded by people, and a woman was holding Bella in a blanket, her little feet were sticking out and they asked me how I wanted her to be buried.  I tried to tell them no and started to panic, but as fast as the panic came, there was a calm a peace.  I have never ever had a dream like this.  They were kind, the people that were surrounding me and I got to sit and I cried and held her and rocked her.  I saw all of her little perfect parts. I didn't have an answer as for what to do, I was just present with her. I have never had her in a dream like that, she has always been something untouchable, because I didn't have a right to be sad.  I have never had the right to speak about her.  She was a piece of me that I had to keep quiet and hidden. I think opening up more about this time and all of the things that I don't know, I was able to have this dream as an acceptance of what happened.  One thing that I know for sure is the love that I had for her.  She was everything pure and good and amazing.  There are so many things that I don't know that I may never ever know. My body still feels the loss sometimes, how I felt how crampy and achy that I was.  There were so many things that a 13-year-old can't understand.  I didn't understand what was happening to me, I have thought my entire life that I was a terrible person, and I did something wrong to lose her.  

The shower has been really really hard.  I am tired of having to talk myself through a shower something so simple, something so necessary and for me it's dangerous and terrifying.  There is a list of things that I can't do.  I can't let the water hit my face; I can't touch the cold wall.  I can't let the water be too hot or too cold.  Sometimes even after being careful of all those things I feel like Don is right there in the shower again just waiting and I can't breathe and my brain goes to a place looking for an exit, looking for anything other than being in this place at this time. A simple shower is more often than not exhausting. 

Other nightmares are when I tried to get away and for a second, I made it to the hall.  There was such a sense of accomplishment.  I mean they of course caught me, but in that moment, there was a fight like I was going to make it.  I know I could in no way have fought off all of them but for a few seconds I really thought that I was going to be free, there was a sense that at least I tried something anything to be out of the hell that I was in.  Of course, there is that ever-present moment in time when you think that you are screaming, kicking but then realize that nothing is coming out of you not a scream not a whimper because literally there is almost nothing left, you are barely holding on to this life by a thread.  These nightmares are so vivid and so intense.  I often do not understand how I came out on the other side.  I think for a good part of the day things were truly just black.  I do not think that I was consciously there, and that kept me alive.  I think of the brutality, and the stories of women that have been through similar things that have been in the hospital for weeks on end.  And I think was that day really as bad for me?  There was no hospital, no care no dr.  I just took care of things.  I covered my bruised body, I walked ever so slowly, I was careful how I sat and breathed.  Literally it was impossible to take a deep breath, every muscle, every inch of my little girl body was tormented by their hands, so many hands.  

I guess with these nightmares there are different pieces that seem to stand out.  I can remember laying by the back door.  I was so cold but the sun on my skin was something that I remember so clearly.  I wonder how I got there, where were they?  I wonder why I didn't get up and reach for the sliding glass door .  So many questions, but I took comfort in feeling the sun, somehow in that I knew that I was somehow still alive.  I didn't know why but I was grateful for the warmth.  A moment of peace in a day in hell.

The terror when they brought me into my brother's room, because all of the sudden they needed some privacy.  Like that had bothered them all day.  I think when they were taking turns under the fan. There was not an ounce of privacy, all of them cheering each other on, taking turns, holding me down.  Their laughing: I can still hear the laughing.  But all of the sudden they needed Privacy.  It was later in the day.  And I remember it being my brother's room but somehow it was my room by my bed because I remember wanting to hide in the little crawl space behind the bed.  I can remember thinking that there was no way they would be able to fit back there and get me.  I think all of my thoughts were in slow motion by this time.  There wasn't much left of me, my fight was almost nonexistent, I wanted them to be done.  At this point I just hoped to die, in my brain that was the next step.  So they all came in took their turns, Don was always the worst, I think that was another time that he used the gun.  I don't have any words to describe the absolute anguish really, I think that Andy was the last one.  But he came into that room to help me, he covered me up. He wiped off my face, that was one time that I remember crying that day.  I literally fell apart in his arms. I am not sure what I thought but I remember being hysterical, and he said that it was ok.  I remember him saying that he wasn't going to hurt me and saying that it was ok over and over.  It felt like I mattered, that I was human for a short time. The day wasn't done but I don't remember much after being in my brother's room. I do remember them carrying me back to the living room, there was no need to tie me up anymore.  Any movement no matter how small felt like I was breaking.  My mind was gone, somewhere far far away everything was black, I didn't even hear their voices anymore.  I would see something, but it was hard to keep my eyes open. I wasn't there and there was no coming back.  I remember getting kicked as they left and them spitting on me.  My only thoughts were on cleaning up. Fixing the fringe.  How does a little girl survive those things?  I wanted to die; I couldn't imagine facing another human ever. So I pretended this was my life clean up and keep doing all that is expected of me.

So, these have been the things of my nightmares.  I am so very exhausted, my bones hurt, my heart is overwhelmed, and a part of my soul is still in this darkness.  Literally I wake up and it's like I was back there.  I don't know how to be ok with all of this. I don't know how to be normal; I can never have a husband. When the memories come back so fiercely that is my first thought, no one can ever love me. I don't know how to let go of the pictures that are so haunting that I freeze.  I know that I will figure this out because that is what I do.  This is brutal, this is the hardest thing I have ever ever had to do in my life.  I for some reason survived and I am fighting my way out of that hell; but it's so fucking painful.  I was completely alone and not a single soul helped me through.  It's different today.  I don't feel like I am in it alone, but I feel so fucking guilty that I can't keep it in.  I can't let these things spiral in my brain because it's killing me and there is a lot of life left to live.  Sometimes I wish that it was still an option to pretend that I am fine.  Iam fine just fine. Callahan is fine, only I am not fine, and these things were never ok.  We will make it, we have too.

               I heart your heart. 

So much inside

 

So much inside and so little to say.  Well, there is a lot to say but the words escape me. There is such a heaviness in my soul. I am at a place between looking back and looking forward. I am doing everything that I can trying to help that 13-year-old find the light and find her voice.  I am looking back trying to find the pieces, trying to understand. I want so badly for her to be free, for her to smile and not look over her shoulder.  She isn't in the dark, but she isn't in the light yet either.  She is quiet and still so sad.  It is so hard for her to imagine a time when she doesn't feel so awful. I am working to give her a name something more appropriate than just 13-year-old girl.  She so deserves rest; she deserves to feel loved and safe.  She deserves more than that and I am trying to find something that will make her feel more a part of this life instead of a girl that has had to hide away, feeling so insignificant. I will never stop trying, I will forever keep fighting for her.  It is my hope that someday, she will open her eyes and be able to enjoy all the things that this life has to offer.  I cannot tell you when that day will be, but I can promise I will be here fighting until she can. I know that she has so much inside, I know that even today she is more than afraid.  Today she still believes everyone's words about how insignificant she was; they made her feel worthless and small. I believe that she has come a long way from that darkest dark place that she was in.  She is no longer alone behind a wall with no light, no hope. 

She is moving toward the light; she is just unable to see it She is still more than afraid; she is still frozen in the things that have happened. She has a grip on her past, because somehow, she has to prove why and how she is the way that she is. She holds on to the things that have happened; because they matter, and her entire life people told her that those things were of such insignificance, but those things are a part of her and so many people refused to see them. I think somehow when she feels her voice is heard she will slowly be able to let go.   She is terrified of coming into the light and being seen.  Because for her being seen is exactly how she gets hurt. She is terrified of being told once again that the things that happened were her fault.  The things that happened, didn't really happen, and that she is just a sad case of a girl who is a liar. I worry for her for the both of us because we cannot handle any more hurt, I have to prove to her that I can take care of us.  I have to prove that those things did happen to her.  I have to show her that I believe her, and I love her and i am grateful that she helped me survive the most unimaginable.  I have to help her find her voice, give her a safe place to feel, to purge and for once be able to feel and move on.  I have to prove to her that she will be seen and heard and there is no need for her to hide away.  Right after she got the courage to speak, she was shamed and blamed and that is where she lives. 

Today I have to work to prove otherwise, that she is believed and that it's so ok not to know all the answers.  She was just a girl who didn't know.  There was no way that she could have all the answers.  There is such a sense that she is the adult and should have known; she had to believe that since as far back as she can remember.  I have to prove that she wasn't an adult. She was a child, and it was every single adult in her life that failed her.  If I can help her understand how she was failed and in no way at fault, I think she can begin to come back to life. I think that she is breathing but barely.  

I am not giving up.  I know how very hard this is and I know and understand how afraid that you are. 

I heart your heart. 

So much a Blur

 

This is a hard one. There are so many independent pieces that I struggle with, that don't fit just right; ANYWHERE.  When I think about this time, I was a mere 13 years old.  Just 13 years, just a girl.  Just a girl carrying things that she should never have had to carry on her own. There are pieces of her that are locked away in my mind, too violent to unimaginable. There are other pieces that are just unknown and still other pieces that are just pieces that I am unable to understand.   I fear somehow these rogue pieces prove the things that all those people in my short life said about me.  Somehow if I speak about all the pieces that don't seem to fit together it will prove all the things, I hold in my head about being unworthy and unlovable, a liar. All those awful terrible things that so many people taught me to believe when I was barely breathing.  Yesterday was a really hard day, I woke up convinced that I was going to figure it all out.  I was going to put moments and pieces of my life to pen and paper and make them make sense make them fit.  That didn't happen.  

What did happen, is I was left holding pieces that will never fit together. No matter what I do or how hard that I try.

 I tried to make them fit into some kind of timeline.  I tried to make them make sense but just when I thought one piece fit, others fell out of place.  There were a lot of tears.  A lot of sleeping and a lot of being still afraid that if I moved, I would completely fall to pieces.  I would write, sleep cry then repeat all day.  I long for answers and pieces to fit to somehow be able to build my case and be able to say see I wasn't lying; I needed your help and support.  I needed you to know that these things happened to me and that I was not ok.  I was not ok at all, and I was 13.  I was doing it all on my own and not one person stepped up for me.  I want so much to find some answers to find some picture that will make a connection that will somehow put my mind at ease.  

I found yesterday as I was trying to figure out the pieces it seems that the more that I look trying to find answers the more confusing that they all tend to get.  I think ok; I understand this one piece but in that finding only brings more confusion. 

I know that it all started at Celebrate 88.  The Summer of my seventh-grade year. And it all ended the following Summer when I just wanted to die.  An entire year 365 days of pieces that I am desperately trying to understand. I am afraid that I have to apologize I am going to get out some of those pieces, just as I remember them, how they are in my head because really is there any sense to any of this?  A young, girl a child even made the outsider because she chose to speak about the terrible things that were done to her.  Is there any sense? No, I don't think that there is, but yet I want to create a picture and be able to prove that I was hurt and that I needed help. 

Here is what I know and how I remember, the pieces that are sharp and can slice a person open from the inside out.  I wanted someone to believe me and hold on to me and tell me that all those things weren't my fault; and that they were going to keep me safe.  All I got was shame and blame.  All I got was the message that no one would really want to do that to me, those things don't happen, and I just must want attention. 

Celebrate 88.

 I was not old enough to go to this youth Christian weekend.  But Everyone said I was so mature, and somehow that make it ok.  I didn't fit in with them.  I was a scared child they were all in high school, another place that I didn't fit in.  I didn't fit anywhere my entire life really.  Well, I guess we were supposed to do some kind of presentation.  For a reason that I cannot explain I said that I would do it which included dancing in front of the entire GYM in front of everyone that was there.  I am not sure what I was thinking.  I wasn't obviously.  So, mistake number one I put myself out there.  And there was a part of me that was excited.  It felt new and exciting, but as I danced, my shorts came up and I remember being mortified.  Like somehow because I choose to dance in front of everyone, because I wasn't careful, and my shorts came up I was the lowest of the low.   The embarrassment I felt was much greater than it should have been.  When it was over, and it was time for the dance.  I think that there were a few guys in my group that I wanted to dance with, and they did not; so, I sat mostly just watching as an outsider. Until Don asked me to dance.  I am sure that I was shocked.  It was already in my brain that no one wanted to dance with me. So, we danced, he made me laugh. I felt important, almost normal.  Then I didn't see him again until Church service on Sunday morning.  He carried the candles and was right behind the priest.  He saw me and smiled.  I was noticed again.  We talked by the flowers he gave me a kiss and said that he would see me again.  

He showed up at my house, I was shocked and for a second, I was excited.  I don't know how much time had passed since celebrate 88 but I know school had started again. 8th grade.  Another unanswered question.  When you are 13 time is something that you honestly don't think of.  He pushed his way in.  He was a different person than the guy I met at that weekend.  He was unkind and very rough.  He raped me.  I struggled to understand, I was so confused.  I remember thinking this is just what I am good for.  I was the slut for dancing with him and being. excited when he kissed me,..This is just what happens to me another rape in a lifetime of thousands.

A short time later, Don came back.  I was in the shower, my parents doing a church weekend. Home alone as always.  He called 4 other people.  I was gang raped from early morning until the sun went down.  NO one came home and checked on me.  No one called to make sure that I was ok.  Over and over, there are times during that day that will remain black it's too much to bring them to light.  I didn't think I was going to make it out of that day alive.  I had visions of my parents coming home and finding my dead body. I remember their laugh, how they made fun of me.  This was not the kind guy that I met that gave me butterflies.  This is what I was good for.  No one cared I was a slut who asked for it. 

I remember telling Calvin what happened to me.  I remember him asking me if they finished, at that time I didn't have a clue what he meant.  He told me and I was more than embarrassed.  He said that these things could not keep happening to me and that I had to tell.  I did tell and wished I didn't. There was no love or support, there was no care for my heart that wanted nothing more than to die.  No one held me and told me that it wasn't my fault.  All I got were people telling me no one would want to do that to me.  I must be lying I just wanted attention. There was absolutely no care.

There was one therapist appointment at Friends of the Family being belittled the entire time.  There was one with my father where I was asked how many there were then ignored, then there was the appointment with Dr.Culpepper.  I was terrified and just trying to breathe.  He was the only person who listened to me and told me that I couldn't bottle things up.  I never cried a single tear. 

I must have taken a test, I was pregnant.  No one knew.  Calvin was my go-to.  I can remember being excited when I felt her move and letting Calvin feel.  What a fairy tale that I lived in.  I am not sure what happened next.  I think that don showed up again.  This time it was February, I can remember that he brought flowers, it was around valentines.  I saw him and there was no feeling no emotion. I unbuttoned my pants and laid down.  There was no fight he was going to take what he wanted. He was shocked, I didn't have any fight left, this was what I good for.  The less that I fought, then the faster he would be done with me.  He kicked me on the way out and just left.  

I never told anyone why bother.  The things that happened to me didn't matter.  I was already the black sheep in the church, I was seen as the crazy one. I could feel the stares, I heard the unkind words and all that mattered was my baby Bella.  I was living as if I was going to live happily ever after.  

Life went on until it didn't anymore.  There was an intense pain, and a lot of blood.  After everything that happened to me, I was used to blood, this was something very different.  I can remember calling Calvin and I remember him picking me up.  The next thing that I remember was being in the hospital.  I have two memories there.  One is that room, so bright white, like I wasn't even there really but watching from far away.  And the second memory was the Dr putting his hand on my leg telling me that I lost her.  There were a few other people standing around the bed, but I don't know who they were, I can't see their faces.  I felt very small. All I know is that the only kindness I received was that DR with his hand on my leg telling me he was sorry.  No one was ever sorry for the things that happened to me. those are my two memories.  I don't know what happened after that.  All I knew is that the only thing that kept me going was gone.  

I have looked it up and if you are over a certain number of weeks then a death certificate and everything has to be filled out, I don't know if any of that was done.  I don't know anything and sometimes that is the heaviest weight.  Sometimes I wish I had the words to talk about things figure them out but there aren't any answers. I don't know what happened, I don't know what hospital I was at, I am thinking it was Lewisville because that was the only ER around, but I don't know. I don't know anything.  

After three days nothing else was done, no one ever talked to me, and no one ever acknowledged that I had been brutally assaulted and was dying inside.  Life went on as usual.  I was just the girl who wanted attention. 

Things just got worse and worse, the nightmares were brutal, I wanted nothing more than to forget but all I did was remember.  I didn't sleep, didn't have friends, I was the walking dead.  Not one person saw me, I felt invisible my heart was broken.  My parents knew I wasn't well.  They planned a trip to Florida with my grandmother.  I wasn't planning on coming home.  I just wanted to die.  I didn't want to have to fight anymore.  I didn't want to remember; I didn't want to have to pretend that I was fine.  

A year in the life of a 13-year-old girl.  A year full of pieces.  A year full of loss and a weight that no little girl, should ever have to carry alone. I write this and realize I have had this sinking feeling all day like I have done something terribly wrong in speaking and writing about all of this.  It is this deep ingrained feeling that feels so overwhelming, physically I am affected down to my bones.  I am the one left after all this time with this sinking feeling, that I have done something so incredibly shameful.  I just want to get all these pieces that tear at my heart a place to rest.  I know today that there are things that I will never have an answer for, and there isn't a thing that I can do about it.  I want to scream at the world for the person that I am today, I want to scream at the world for that scared little girl that wanted someone to see her and do something.

I heart your heart

Just Blah

 

I don't know there are so many things.  I am on overload, and I want to hide away. My brain is everywhere, and I don't want to do anything.  I want to stay under my warm covers and forget everything.  I want to scream at the world and pet my dog.  I want some things to be easier, I want so badly to understand the why and how's for some of the things in my life.    The trouble is that there are no answers.  The things that I am looking for , there isn't one magic thing that will make it better.  There is no magic wand to take away the nightmares, the achiness the feeling of their hands.   I think that finally I am able to have hope that there is a light at the end of the Tunnel, but I also feel like these last pieces are extra sharp and even more dangerous!  I feel like these last parts and pieces there are big chunks missing and somehow my brain is going to have to learn to be ok with that. Everything about this part of my journey is hard and at the same time I have never been so far outside of my own box, doing different things, making things my own.

I feel like I am finally doing things that make a difference, that make my heart happy and that means the world. I worry ALL THE TIME !  I get on my own nerves I worry so much.  I worry about things that there really is no need to worry about. I worry about being teacher of the year, somehow there is even more pressure on me than before.  I worry that someone is going to read a post and go and tattle.  I feel like every time that I want to have a voice there is someone there wanting me to be quiet about the things that are important to me.  People don't me share when I am mistreated, and that is not ok.  I have just as much right to share my experiences as anyone else.

I think maybe it's just changing times.  The kids are getting older, I have to find out the things that I want out of life,  I want to be truly happy.  I want to have people around that are genuine and kind and care about me and the things that I think and believe.  

Once again, I saw a post with a group of women that I don't belong in.  It stings because there was a time when I did, take that back I thought that I did.  I was wrong.  I didn't fit into their little boxes.  I asked too many questions and challenged the way that they thought.  I didn't believe in god and they didn't understand my spirit. I don't want to be a part of their group, but it hurts when you used to think that you were a part of them if that makes sense.  There was a saying that I found the other day talking about that fact that if someone refuses to choose a side when someone has done something to another person than in their not choosing, they have made it loud and clear that they did in fact actually make a choice.   Yes , yes to all of that.  They made a choice, and I was not a part of it.  Maybe that will be one of those things that always hurt.  I am better off, I want true and genuine over pretending and being something that I am not.  

I think good things are happening, I have a lot of good things starting to happen.  I think that I am learning that I have to make the things that I want to happen happen.  I look forward to going back to school maybe meeting some new people.  I am scared, I hope that I am able to do all the things that are neeeded,  talk about stepping out of my zone.  

I have good days and rough days rougher than most, but I am trying.  I want to find my own happy and I don't want to be by myself anymore; and at the same time, I don't know how not to be.  Being alone is a huge feeling right now and I don't like it.  Hopefully this is just a time of change.  Just a quiet time, before things start to change and get better.  I have to hope so, because I am working really hard, I am trying to find my happy.  

To new beginnings and finding all the things that I want in life.  

I heart your heart. 

How

 

Wow I seem to keep finding things that continue to break my heart.  And this is it, this is the end, I am no longer going to put any energy into you or your memory.  I am no longer going to beat myself up because I don't miss you.  All that I feel is relief and after a year that relief only gets stronger and stronger. There have been times when I have been able to think wow you would have enjoyed this.  There have been a few times where I thought, wow there is an empty space here.  I am tired of the daggers I feel even in your passing. Your words and actions often didn't match for me and now cleaning out your things I am finding the things that you truly thought and felt about me and honestly, I am crushed. My heart is literally breaking and there is not a thing that can be done.  You are gone. I am here and I am going to live my life full, and be true to who I am.  I am more than sorry that you could never appreciate and love the person that I was.  You hated that I was my own person, you hated that I chose to do the hard thing over the easy thing at all costs.  You hated that I didn't just shut my mouth and agree with you or anyone else for that matter.   You hated that I choose to do the hard thing over the easy thing.  You hated that I found my voice and stood up for others.  You hated me because I was a girl.  You left me out of the life insurance, only my brother's name is mentioned like I was never even your daughter.  It has nothing to do with the money, I could care less it is the fact that I meant that little to you.  I say that little really, I meant nothing because I wasn't your little cheer leader at your every Becking call. I found paperwork today; you are pleading with your doctor for weight loss surgery. You talked about how you wanted weight loss surgery to show your severely obese daughter than it can be done.  That was in April 2003, I had been back and forth to Boston trying to testify for Angela. My case going through the court system all on my own and your only worry is your obese daughter.  I can no longer give you any of my energy, I am tired of my breaking heart.  You were never there for me, not during the trial not growing up.  There was a time with Vincent and Mariska but it was short lived. So for the rest of the cleaning, I will read nothing and just throw it away.  It is all your business, and I will trash it all where it belongs.  

I am sorry that you couldn't love me as I was.  I am sorry that I was such a disappointment to you.  I am sorry that I changed my entire life, my favorite home that was all mine to make sure you had a home.  I am sorry that I wasn't the daughter that you wanted.   You left me to fend for myself my entire life and I was exhausted.  I needed a mom I needed to know that someone would be on my side no matter what.  I never got that.  So I am not sure how I am going to move on from the daggers thrown at me by your words and actions. I don't know how this all works really.  The truth is I didn't have a mom long before you were gone. You were not there and I shut you out, the hurt you caused was unbearable and you couldn't understand that.  I was on my own for most of my life.  You said the words when I pressed charges on asshole.  "Well at least he wasn't in my bed".  I should have known then but I so wanted a mom and I so wanted to love you, make you proud. I so wanted to believe that you didn't know, but truth be told you knew a lot of things and then ended up blaming me for them.  My heart is achy, I wish I had the kind of mom that I wanted and needed in my life.  I wish I had a mom that would have kept me safe and been there to support me throughout my life. I missed out on that.  Now is my time for me to enjoy my family and be all the things that my own children need. I cannot continue to try and figure out what I did wrong and why you didn't love me unconditionally.  So now I figure out How to hold my head high and learn to live without knowing why I meant so little to you.