Scattered pieces

I’ll admit, it’s hard to write something after getting so many comments on the last post.  It scares some of the young ones to realise that people actually read what is written here.  It’s even scarier for them when we state an opinion and open ourselves up to negative comments.  Part of me wants to write further posts on similar topics because they see it as helping people – something that feeds our self-worth; but there is a fear that if we did this, we’d lose sight of why we write this blog… which is to help us work through the issues we’re facing.  So, this entry is about finding our way back to that space.  In many ways, the previous post is an indication that we’re trying to avoid the issues… a great diversionary tactic if ever there was one.  It’s hard to work through what is really going on in my head at the moment, it’s all very confused, messy and hidden deep beneath layers of dissociation.  But a clue comes from Liz saying in three of my previous sessions… “we keep on coming back to your anger”.

Anger…  Hmmm, so she means I have anger?  But I don’t “do” anger…  Yes, I get frustrated sometimes, and confused.  But I don’t get angry, do I?  Angry is that scary silence when everyone walks around you on egg-shells… Angry is that violent rage of a raised hand, belt, spoon…  Angry is sex…  “I” don’t do any of that!

That is what my daily functioning self can say easily… “I” have no concept that I experience anger.  Then there are little reality checks… I know that some of my self-injury is motivated by anger or angry ones; therapists have said to me “you left angry last week”; and my cynical friend at work has commented on my anger in a teasing way.  So, apparently I do get angry, I’m just not in touch with it.  Sometimes I can glimpse the anger… if there is a dissociative switch from an angry one, they often leave the body feeling tight and wound up.  That feeling is quickly stamped down and I can ignore that it ever happened; but it’s there, ever so fleetingly.

Another clue to my anger came earlier this week.  I wasn’t able to sleep and was looking at the 25 popular YouTube clips on the iPhone; one of the clips that came up, was the “Angry Dance” from the film Billy Elliot.

I immediately recognised some of the feelings of frustration that Billy was experiencing… having all these conflicting inputs and emotions, while feeling powerless to stop it.  That powerlessness then building into feelings of anger with the world around him and himself.  In Billy’s case, he released that emotion in dance… for us, it’s bottle up and buried within the dissociative system.  I know this intellectually, but I’m not sure I understand it on a functional level… or, more accurately, I don’t know how to deal with those feelings in a more appropriate way.

My knowledge of therapeutic techniques would indicate that I need to work on identifying, experiencing and appropriately managing my anger.  That’s all well and good, but as my anger is so fleetingly realised within my normal functional states, I’m not sure how to proceed in understanding it.  I know that Liz has talked to angry ones and unsuccessfully tried to stop some of the mild self injury (scratching, picking etc) that happens in session when they are present.  She also seems to be actively poking at me and trying to encourage the anger – she was thrilled the other week when I showed frustration at her via a text message.  She wanted to explore my reaction and find out what happened, she saw the event as important… I saw it as Liz being an idiot and stating the obvious, so I snapped a curt response back to her and ignored that she existed.  I’ve noticed more and more lately that I’m losing all sense of Liz between sessions, and I wonder if this is because she wants to explore my anger.  It’s like my system is protecting me from the anger and the scariness of exploring it by shutting down everything that could prod at it.  I think this is also the reason why there are threats and desires to quit therapy…  Liz has become a huge threat to parts of the system that don’t want those emotions looked at.

Anger has always terrified me, I know that much.  Nothing will cause a dissociative switch quicker than someone showing anger.  I know I need to explore and work my anger issues through, I just wish it didn’t seem so daunting and scary…

What responsibility do therapists have towards their clients and those they encounter?  I’ve often wondered this as I see an increasing number of therapists having online interactions with mental health consumers who aren’t necessarily their own clients.

I can understand, as a consumer, that there is an attraction in finding information online – you can do it at your own leisure, it may seem less scary than talking to your therapist and it helps you to feel a sense of connection or validation to find a group of people who are experiencing the same sort of things you are.  We often come to the information with a sense of hope and vulnerability – we’re desperately searching for anything that will help us to make sense of the world we find ourselves in.  This vulnerability means that the information we find has to be totally unbiased, ethical and of a superior quality – not due to issues with our intelligence, but rather with that vulnerability potentially hampering our ability to filter the information we find.  When you’re desperate to find any hint of familiarity, you are less likely to evaluate the information found for it’s worth and relevance.  If that information, or connection to a group of people, is found on a site run by a therapist, there is an intrinsic trust associated with it.  This person is a therapist, with qualifications and years of experience… surely that means they can be trusted.  But can they?

When we go to see a real life therapist, you interview them to see if they are a good fit for you, are ethical and have complaint procedures in place… how do we do this for online therapy blogs that we read? Years of teaching Information Literacy has shown me that we are more trusting of what we find online.  There seems an implicit trust in having the information online.  This can mean that if a therapist strays from ethical guidelines, we’re possibly less likely to question it, and we’re more likely to accept what they say as being fact.  There is also the issue that the therapist doesn’t have to allow questioning on their blog… any comments which question the content of the blog or their practice can be deleted at the moderation stage.  So, we can have a perfect storm scenario, where vulnerable mental health consumers are being led along a path that is dangerous and unethical, without any checks on the therapists behaviour.

This is not to say that all therapist blogs are negative… I’ve found some excellent therapist blogs which are written either for the consumer or other therapists.  But, we do need to stand back and evaluate what we are finding…  Often the intentions of the blogs are real and true… they’re wanting to help the consumer, but often the way of doing that is questionable.  The next time you read a blog – be it a therapists or a survivors, ask yourself some basic questions…

What is this person getting out of writing the blog – what is their aim and motivation?
Is it an opinion piece, or is it factual?
Are they stating opinion as fact?
If it’s portrayed as fact, where is the research supporting that fact?
Is there indications that the therapist is continuing with their own education?
What qualifications does the therapist have, and what does that qualification mean?
Can you find out more about the therapist – do they list their name and contact details?
Google the therapist and see what comes up – are there any complaint procedures filed against them?
Who does the therapist link to – research from reputable sources, or other opinion pieces?

I know this all sounds difficult, but the online world is a dangerous one at times… you need to be aware of where you are going and what you are reading. It’s easy to be caught by a case of the therapist wearing the Emperor’s New Clothes… I know I have been.

—————-
Now playing: Sarah McLachlan – Angel
via FoxyTunes

Standing alone in the wasteland behind the house.
Her clothes torn, dirty and hanging on her thin frame.
Blonde hair hanging loosely.
Limbs bloodied and bruised.
Standing perfectly still, a blank look on her face.
Shoulders slightly hunched.
Hands held in tight fists.
The waif waits…

She looks through the murky window.
Watching those within.
Following them with her eyes.
As they run to and fro.
A woman catches sight of her.
This dirty, silent waif.
She approaches the glass…
Secure in the confines of her room.

Staring at each other through the glass.
Curious as to what they see.
Through dirt and despair.
They spot similarities.
The woman inches closer.
The waif stays still.
The woman raises her hand to the glass.
The waif draws in a breath and opens her mouth to scream.

Her face contorts with effort.
Her body shakes.
Hands tighten.
Mouth wide.
The woman flinches back.
Recoiling from the distortion she sees.
But there is no sound…
The waif never makes a sound, no matter how loud she screams.

It’s become obvious that I’ve been withdrawing from everything lately.  It always starts slowly… I’ll sit at my desk, rather than go out with the others for breaks at work; I’ll leave the car out with the intention of going to take photos, but end up putting it away a few hours later because I’m “too tired” or it’s now “too dark” to take photos.  I wasn’t really sure why I’ve been withdrawing, or rather, which particular stressor was causing the withdrawal.  I only knew that is was happening.  Yesterday, I moved one step closer to eliminating one stressor – the dissolution of my marriage.  The laws in New Zealand require you to have been separated from your partner for two years before you can dissolve the marriage (get a divorce).  That milestone was up on 14 February of this year.  So we took the papers to the Family Court to start the official process… it was an interesting trip which caused the activation of ones that hadn’t been present for quite some time.

We took two hours off work to take the papers to court, thinking that would be plenty of time for the fairly simple matter of handing over some papers and paying a fee… how wrong was I!

It started off well… we went into the Family Court reception and were served by the nice lady who took our Protection Order application nearly two years ago.  She checked the forms, notarized them where it was appropriate and double checked that none of our personal details appeared on the forms to protect us from any contact from the husband.  Then we asked some seemingly innocent questions about what would happen next… in particular asking about how he was to be notified of the dissolution when we didn’t know where he lived…  This is where the smooth operation came to a screaming halt.

“What do you mean you don’t know where he lives?”  The slightly stunned clerk asked…
“Well, we actively try to avoid knowing anything about him because of the Protection Order.”
“So, what’s this address here…” as she points to the address we’ve listed.
“That’s his lawyers address.”  We reply, thinking it makes perfect sense to serve the papers to his lawyer.
“You can’t serve the papers to his lawyer, it has to be him in person.”
“But… I have no idea where he is.”
“You need to try and find him.”

At this point, the clerk confers with another worker about the situation and asks what my options are…  Meanwhile we’re dissociating, spinning and trying to keep it together despite the internal chaos… we can’t find him… don’t make us have to find him… don’t make us talk to him or his family again…

After a rather convoluted discussion, the clerk comes back to tell us that we have to try and find him through any means necessary; but if we can’t, we can fill in another form to say that the papers can be served on his parents…  But we still need someone to serve them… Someone over 18 to serve the papers to them in person…  Someone would have to go to his parents house, knock on the door and give the papers to them…

This news brought another round of dissociation and internal noise… we can’t go to the witch’s house… she hates us… she’ll yell at us… please don’t make us!

Thankfully another woman yelled out that we could pay someone from the court where they live to serve the papers on our behalf…

This just left the problem of trying to find him!  So off to the public library we went, looking for electoral roles…  We walked there thinking it would be quicker than taking the car, but on the way there was all sorts of activation by different parts… Can we buy a toy?  Oh look, a sale!  Can we go see that movie?  That’s a pretty dress. The desire to get sidetracked was immense… there was so much panic about trying to find the husband.  With each comment, suggestion or pull, M tried to assure each one that we would go back later, but that we really needed to find the husband to make us all safe.

We found that the husband hadn’t changed his details official details from when he lived with us.  We tried telephone directories and the Internet, but couldn’t find him.

There was another round of attempted distractions on the way back to court, but M deflected each one.  When we returned to court, we filled in even more paperwork to say that we’d tried to find the husband.  All the while, the internal noise was getting louder and louder.

It was only when we were driving away that the noise quietened.  So much so, that by the time we got to a toy store, to keep the promise of buying something later, all the young ones had gone quiet.

On the surface, I can see the noise and chaos was an indication of our stress about the situation.  But, I think it goes deeper than that.  It was about our fear of having to do anything to do with him, fearing possibly having to see him again, fear that he will react when he gets the papers…  It’s also about dissolving the marriage, and therefore admitting we made a mistake in getting married… it’s an indication of our failure.

I still feel the anxiety, disconnection and withdrawal from life… I don’t quite know how to ease that.  I’ve tried making an appointment with my psychiatrist to get a review of my medication, but need ACC approval and funding before I can go – which means it could be several months before I get in to see him.  This week, I’m wanting to quit therapy…  I cancelled Jo and have come close to cancelling Liz several times.  Everything about therapy annoys me at the moment – trying to talk, all of Liz’s responses, her making us draw when we retreat and can’t talk…

We found this photo called Just Red by Burning Image… it’s a good representation of how we’re feeling…

I know through work many intelligent, creative and talented people. This is the invitation to an exhibition by one of those people…

Mark is an incredibly talented designer and artist.  The image used for the invitation is the design of an old school book.  When he gave it to me, I remembered all the good times of sitting in class, ignoring all the other rubbish that was going on in my life and concentrating on the work in front of me.  I wouldn’t want to go back to those times, but this image brought back a time in my life where I could escape into learning.  That escape was my lifeline…

Today, I’m thankful for that reminder.

In New Zealand, in order to receive ACC assistance, you need to have a diagnosed mental illness directly related to the abusive injury. I know from reading other blogs, that health insurers around the world, often require a recognised diagnosis in order to provide (or exclude) coverage. Depending on where you’re from, that diagnosis is determined by either the DSM (Diagnostic and Statistical Manual) or the ICD (International Statistical Classification of Diseases and Related Health Problems). In New Zealand, we use the DSM, and this is currently being substantially revised – some say rewritten, and is due for release in 2013.  If you’re wondering why I’m worried about something that is so far away, well, this manual determines whether I will receive ongoing assistance, what that assistance will look like, I enjoy being an informed consumer, and I’m curious how mental health professionals perceive my various reactions to life.

At the moment, the proposed revisions have been made available at DSM-5: The Future of Psychiatric Diagnosis.  There had been all sorts of rumours circulating that there would be a whole plethora of new diagnoses, and the removal of others – including DID.  Based on my rather uneducated eye, the changes are “interesting” rather than sweeping.  Running through the disorders that I’ve been labelled with over the years, there’s an interesting mix of tightening of the definitions, and what seems a desire to create a “catch-all” diagnosis.  Here’s my take on a couple of them…

300.14 Dissociative Identity Disorder
My first concern is that they are now going to allow the disruption of identity states to be reported by the patient.  Call me cynical and a worry wort, but if you’ve read tales of caution about the “attractiveness” of having DID (for example Tempy’s entry Lemme just say it), then this may open the way for some misguided people who have problems, but not necessarily DID, to “seek” the diagnosis.

Then we get onto the “experience of possession”… I think they need to clarify this wording somewhat.  To me, it sounds like something associated with spiritual or religious possession.  That again, could just be my cynical take on it.  This could be saved by the wording of the last criteria, where the disturbance is not part of “accepted cultural or religious practice”.  But still, the word “possession” conjures a certain image that isn’t positive!

There now seems to be some acknowledgement that abusive events can be repressed – “Inability to recall important personal information, for everyday events or traumatic events, that is inconsistent with ordinary forgetfulness.” I know this won’t eliminate the False Memory Syndrome (FMS doesn’t appear in the DSM as far as I can tell) supporters, but it gives an official nod to the research supported indications that traumatic events can be suppressed, or forgotten as part of a coping mechanism (and the crowd goes wild – insert by Mickie).

According to the rationale behind the changes, this new wording is aimed at reducing the use of DDNOS, the understanding that forgetting everyday events is common (i.e. mild dissociation is common) and an indication that conversion and somatic conditions need to be looked at when making any diagnosis.  Personally, I think the wording could benefit from some further work.  I rather like having DDNOS as a “fall-back” diagnosis when I’m faced with a mental health professional who doesn’t believe in DID.  But overall, I can see some benefits to the changes – the big one for me is the inclusion of the inability to recall traumatic events.

309.81 Post Traumatic Stress Disorder
There seems to be further indication that dissociation is a normal response to trauma – something that the research has shown for years, with the wording “Dissociative reactions (e.g., flashbacks) in which the individual feels or acts as if the traumatic event(s) were recurring (Such reactions may occur on a continuum, with the most extreme expression being a complete loss of awareness of present surroundings.)”

Persistent distorted blame of self or others about the cause or consequences of the traumatic event(s)” – they’ve acknowledged that self-blame is an issue for survivors!

Irritable, angry, or aggressive behavior” – added aggressive behaviour, which is a great inclusion – I’m thinking in particular about my ex-husband with this one.

According to the rationale behind the changes, there appears to have been a great deal of input into this diagnosis, but little actually changed.  The changes that have been made appear positive in broadening the scope of the reactions that those with PTSD can have, as well as defining the time frame associated with the onset and continuation of symptoms.  I admit not to having as much of a vested interest in this diagnosis, as I think pretty much any survivor will fit this diagnosis.  It’s more about how far reaching it goes.  I appreciate that they’ve indicated the dissociative experiences that can occur – but it begs the question as to why DID is not on the PTSD spectrum?

301.83 Borderline Personality Disorder
I’ve heard of BPD being a diagnosis given when they don’t know what else to label you…  Overall, I think that those with the diagnosis have an incredibly bad reputation which is undeserved.  I’ve been labelled as having “Borderline traits”, but when reviewing the PTSD criteria, the behaviours that they describe as “borderline” could be PTSD.  In many ways, the revisions still allow BPD to be a “catch all” diagnosis for when they’re not sure what else to do with you.  It has aspects of PTSD, dissociation, psychosis, low self-esteem, impulsivity, etc.  When you look at the different aspects on the surface, it is easy to see how many survivors could meet the criteria; it’s only when you do the diagnostic tests that you realise that the severity needed to meet the diagnostic criteria.

To me, this diagnosis seems to have been fleshed out substantially.  This worries me when you consider the poor reputation and often poor treatment that those with BPD receive…  When I was initially given a diagnosis of DID, I was told there were no treatment plans for that diagnosis in New Zealand, so they sent me through the system with a diagnosis of BPD… I was shocked, dismayed and victimised by some of the mental health professionals who treated me as “another borderline”.  It’s taken many years for the public health system to remove BPD from my records.  I can see with this revision, that many more people may receive the diagnosis and associated poor treatment.  Mental health professionals really need to change their attitude to those with BPD.

———–

Overall, the revisions seem intent on minimising the use of the “NOS” diagnosis.  But in some areas it won’t be possible – from my understanding of the criteria, I will still meet the EDNOS diagnosis.  I’d encourage you to check out the proposed changes… it’s an interesting process they are undertaking.  There has been criticism that the work is being rushed, so that means we have more of an obligation to check it out – especially mental health professionals!

—————-
Now playing: Sarah McLachlan – Angel
via FoxyTunes

A couple of weeks ago, when we were heading into the anniversary surrounding the last attack by the now ex-husband; Liz asked me if I missed him, and if I wanted him back in my life.  As an adult, I immediately said “No, I don’t want anything more to do with him”.  If you look at it from a dispassionate, adult point of view, it makes total sense to want nothing to do with him – he was sexually, physically and psychologically abusive.  It’s not a good thing to be abused, so therefore it’s not good to be in that relationship as it existed.  This makes intellectual, and common sense!

Today, I realised the answer isn’t that simple.  The dynamics surrounding being a battered partner come into play – he didn’t hurt me THAT badly… it was only when I did something wrong… it was really all my own fault… other people said we picked on him…  Suddenly the waters start to get muddied.  Parts of me excused, allowed and encouraged his abuse.  There was a comfort in the pain he inflicted, it was familiar to us and therefore gave a sense of certainty about what to expect.  He was also very good at inflicting pain… he knew the right insult to throw, when to be nice, when to inflict the worst of the sexual abuse.  In this respect, the relationship was a perfect storm.

He was immature in many ways, and that immaturity showed through in ways that were unexpected.  He could be incredibly gentle with the very young ones.  He could also make us laugh -  I really miss laughing with someone.  So it wasn’t all bad…  This all adds to the feeling that the relationship is being blown out of proportion…

But today, I realised what I really miss, is his violence.  He was a dangerous man – over six foot tall, solid build and trained as a security guard.  His violent rages could be spectacular – holes were punched in doors, walls and objects.  His level of sexual perversion meant that I was often re-creating abuse from the past.  But most importantly, he tried to kill me!  He put his hands around my neck and squeezed until I couldn’t breathe.  He had a power over our life that some of us miss.  We’ve failed at committing suicide several times, but he came close to killing us… he could take that suicidal failure out of our control…  He could kill us… This is what some of us are missing – the ability to have the choice about whether we are alive or dead taken out of our hands.  This is also what we were looking for with some of our self-injury… that dangerous situation where things will get out of control, and we’ll be killed.

We’ve constantly struggled with suicidal ideation, but I never realised the depth of the feelings.  We don’t want the ex-husband back to work on a happy marriage, we want him back to kill us.

This makes me wonder how often we goaded him on… how often we started the arguments… how often we poked at him, knowing it would cause a reaction…  Even after the last attack, I’m aware that Frank came forward to goad the ex-husband – “Come on, come on, pick on someone your own size”.  Frank was slapping at the ex-husband while saying this… I’m not sure if he was defending us, or trying to continue the fight.

I’m not sure where I go with this realisation.  I consider it serious and have contacted Liz to let her know what is happening.  But really, what the heck do I do with this?  Is my wish for death so great that I will try everything possible to ensure I succeed?  Do I wish for a miserable existence, with an abusive man?  If this is the case, I know there are many men who would be willing to abuse me…

Sometimes I shake my head with the realisation of how screwed up I am…

These are two lines from the song I will not let you down by Don McGlashan.  This song has been going through my head all day, just little snippets…

You must try to believe
That I will be coming through
…
I have carried my cross at each step
Upon my neck for you
…
There’s a tear in my eye
And an ocean of swallowed pride
…
Ties that comfort
Ties that bind
…
And I will not let you down
I will not let you down
That’s for sure
…
I will not let you down
I will not let you down
Any more

Today, these snippets mean a great deal to me.  I’ve just finished one of the worst weekends I’ve had regarding self-injury since before the ex-husband left.  I’ve done many things which I’m not proud of, or can even fathom.  I’m still shaking and trying to work through what happened.  But the lines “Ties that comfort, Ties that bind” got me thinking… wondering about how much I hold onto this self-injury, destructiveness and my mental health diagnoses.

The weekend of self-destruction started on Friday when I was triggered by a couple of incidences which lead to me to repeat the old patterns of needing to please people – in particular the ex-husband.  It didn’t matter that he is no longer present in my life, it was all about finding ways to repeat old behaviours and coping mechanisms.  But why did I do this?  The threat of him appearing in my life was minimal to non-existent.  I no longer want him in my life, yet he fills my flashbacks.  These flashbacks and the stress caused by the memories of him, have lead to me not being able to function at work, meant I’ve had to take an increasing amounts of medication and resulted in me losing huge chunks of time.  But I wonder how much of this I have brought on myself?  There is a certain comfort in being able to explain away my behaviour to his influence and abuse…  What if I’m using all of this as a convenient excuse to get away with inappropriate behaviours?

I read a comment recently from a fellow survivor, they said that they can’t stand those who aren’t actively working on their issues… Those that use the past as an excuse, rather than a cause for healing.  This sort of argument has always worried me – whose to say that I am doing enough in this healing journey?  What if I am wallowing in self-pity and excuses?  Whose yardstick am I being measured against?  What does the yardstick even look like?  It’s the sort of argument that I’ve heard several times, but it does my head in.  I’ve been judged all my life, now I’m healing and I’m still being judged?  When does the judging end?

Another comment that hit close to the bone, was a good friend saying to me that I wasn’t sounding like the survivor he knew.  He’s right (you usually are Paul), I wasn’t a survivor over the weekend… I was a battered victim… like an addict looking for their next fix of self-harm.  All adult knowledge of consequences went out the window.  At times I could hold it together, but these were short lived.  The nights were especially difficult… looking for the ex-husband in each shadow… looking for ways to hurt myself and undermine all the work that I had been doing.  It wasn’t a deliberate attempt by any one within the system to cause harm, it was me coping in the only way I knew…  But what if the only way I knew was perpetuating that tie that binds me to this place of being a victim?  I know the role of being a victim… there’s a comfort in fulfilling a role I know well… so how tied am I to it?  How much of my energy is spent in ensuring I stay there?  I’d like to say that it’s not a great deal, but I just don’t know.

I know that I’m bound to the past in many ways… flashbacks and other PTSD symptoms indicate that.  My healing is aimed at breaking these binds.  This weekend, I failed.  I failed myself, the dissociative system and the people around me who count on me to be a survivor.  My trust in those around me and myself has been seriously shaken.  I’ve come out of this weekend distrustful and scared of people again.  I hate that this has happened.  I hate that I’ve put a great dent in my healing.  I’ve come out questioning everything about my motivations and what I am doing…  Is this healing really working?  Why am I doing this?

I know these are all questions that I need to ask Liz… but I fear she will give me an answer that is meant to soothe, rather than be truthful.  I fear that I have become comfortable in the role of a victim and that those ties are keeping me in this place.  I worry that being a victim has become my identity and way of life… I know that my life is so restricted by the different triggers that I sometimes can’t see past it.  I know that some of the things Liz suggests to change in my life, I can’t do… or I explain that I’ve already tried them and failed.  I’m not very good at giving things a second go, if I fail once, then I’ve often failed forever… especially when it comes to my healing work.  I cut myself very little slack in that area… is that another sign that I’m tied to being a victim?  I just don’t know anymore…

—————-
Now playing: Cat Stevens – Where Do The Children Play?
via FoxyTunes

Dear young one,

First of all, you are young.  You are not a little adult, you are a young girl…  This alone should explain so much to you, but it won’t because I know you are fighting and struggling to make sense of the world you find yourself in.  You are strong, brave and stubborn…  You take on so much of the world around you, that it is hard to make you out as an individual identity.  But, please remember that you are a young girl…

I sense that you need to hear the words “I forgive you”, but there is nothing to forgive you for.  You did an amazing job holding it all together when those around you were hurting you and themselves.  I’m so sorry that you had to take on this burden of abuse.  This burden had nothing to do with how pretty, thin, attractive or loud you were…  there are no reasons why… there are excuses, but no reasons.  I’m not sure what will ease your sense of guilt and ownership over the abuse… I could quote you research about alcoholic fathers, absentee mothers, sibling rivalry and a society built around ignoring the child as an individual with rights, but I know that you will look for excuses within that research… You will look for any proof that the abuse was, and is, your fault.  So I won’t hand you that information to confuse you further, instead I would like to do what should have happened long ago… get down to your eye level, look you straight in the eye and say “It wasn’t your fault”.  You hold no blame for what happened, they were events done to you, not by you.  Even the events where you are sure you were the instigator, you weren’t.  You were trying to find new ways to protect yourself and ease the burden.

I stand in awe of what you accomplished through all of the pain of what was happening to you.  Do you know that?  I don’t know how you did it.  You have a strength I cannot fathom.  The amount of times you picked yourself up and kept on going… the amount of times you looked towards the pain and kept on going.  I’m so proud to consider that you are what I have come from.  You excelled in all that you tried – I have the reports which tell of your intelligence, I’m told you moved with grace and poise on the dance floor and you played above your grade in sports you enjoyed.  I know you consider these accomplishments nothing, and I wish you could tell them with pride.  But what really amazes me, is that you defended those around you whom you thought were being picked on.  Your sense of social justice remained intact, despite all of what happened to you.  Not only did it remain intact, but you actively found ways to defend and help those who were being victimised.  You couldn’t succeed all the time, but you tried… and kept on trying no matter what.

I’m not sure that I will ever understand what happened to you.  Looking back, I don’t know what advice I could give you that would ease your burden.  I could say “don’t trust people”, but then I wonder if you didn’t have some form of trust, whether you would still hold to that sense of social justice?  I could tell you not to go near the kindergarten playground, or near that woodshed… but I know that this wouldn’t solve the problems you faced.  I want to protect you from the pain you faced, but I know I am helpless to do so.  My only hope now, is to help you heal.  I’m not sure how to do this, and in this I need your help.  I need to know what you need, and when you need it.  I try my best to help you heal, but I know I make mistakes.  I hope you forgive these errors… I know this is asking a lot of you, especially when so many people have let you down in the past, but I again need you to be strong.  This is a different strength, this isn’t about putting up with more pain… this is about telling me when it hurts, telling me when you are scared, telling me when you need help.  We all need help young one, but it takes strength to ask and receive that help…

Thank you for all you have done for me, young one.  You have given me so many gifts, it is now my turn to return some of those gifts, if you will let me.  You will notice that I don’t mention the word “love”… I avoid using this word as we all know that I don’t understand the concept… instead, please understand that I respect and admire you.  I couldn’t have made it this far without you…

Yours sincerely,
M

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