Midnight Mutterings

TRIGGER WARNING:

Sexual Abuse

Last night was rough. Maybe I should say that most of my nights are rough. I miss being able to watch the sunrise and sunset. My sleeping schedule has been erratic and I feel like my inner clock is off schedule too. I'm guessing that not having a general work schedule doesn't help either...

I wasn't planning to write so soon about this event/events in my life, but it has definitely been on my mind ever since I came to the realization that I have been sexually abused which was on Sunday evening in my therapy session and today is Friday.

I don't even know where to start. The most important thing I want to bring out is how IFS( Internal Family Systems) and a safe place and trained person is helping me uncover these things and heal them...

I have always felt that I could identify with survivors of sexual abuse on most aspects. I could identify with the feelings. The struggles. The fears. The wounds.

But I never considered myself sexually abused.

Until now.

There were signs but I didn't know that. There were sexually-themed dreams. My body would sometimes do weird things I didn't understand. There was an unhealthy fascination with such things that led me down rabbit trails into porn. And I felt powerless to stop. Almost as though it was a physical illness and I couldn't control it.

I hated it.

I hated myself.

I hated my body.

I hated parts of my body.

I hated that I couldn't control my body and make it stop doing things I hated.

There was so much confusion.

So much fear.

So much shame.

So much hate.

Like my body betrayed me. (I read another survivor's post about this very thing not long ago and somehow even though I didn't quite understand then I sure do now.)

Several weeks ago I had a sexually-themed dream and I woke so furiously frustrated and disturbed that I texted my therapist. She was so kind and gentle and curious that it helped me to face it with curiosity instead of hate despite the shame. She told me that the dream is trying to tell me something. Instead of trying to block it I was curious and wondered what it was trying to tell me even though I was scared of what would be revealed. At the time I had finally gotten out of my horrible living situation and was living at a friend's house temporarily before moving out of state and I apparently felt safe enough that my body was trying to tell me that there was something deeper that needed to be healed.

After a few days I forgot about the dream for the most part with moving and everything else that goes with it plus then trying to settle in in my new temporary home. About a week after the move I was feeling much safer than I had in a long time, if ever, and my friend has been so kind and loving and I often am touched by her love and struggle to know how to receive it.

On Sunday morning I was texting back and forth with her and she asked me if I'd like to meet her family some time. I started explaining how hard it is for me to be with religious folks. Then the subject turned to men and as I was typing out how hard it is to be with males over 12 it was like a lightbulb moment and the memory of the dream was brought to the surface.

I texted my therapist and told her my lightbulb moment and said that I'm going to try to put into words how I feel when I am around that age group. My therapist texted me soon and told me that she has a feeling that there's a lot there and that its okay to wait if it is too overwhelming, that we can face it together in our session in the evening. It felt so good to be given permission to wait. And I did. I did some exercises to ground myself and spent the rest of the day putting a puzzle together and taking a nap, rather pleasantly despite the looming unknown that was to be faced in the evening.

Typically we may catch up on the latest stuff going on and how I'm feeling and then me grounding myself on the mattress and seeing what part comes up and wants attention. What I mean by grounding is that we stop talking and I start listening to my body, feeling the contact and pressure of my body on the mattress, noticing my breathing though not trying to change it, and scanning my body for any feelings of tension, fear, etc. as well as being open to the possibility of memories or specific feelings that are trying to poke their head through the fogginess of my memory. Sounds like multi-tasking, doesn't it? I verbalize what I sense, feel or see in my memory and usually it is the launching pad into the subject of our session.

I was scared. Really scared.

I didn't know what to expect. I didn't want to talk about whatever came up because this was an area I hated as well as tried to block whenever something of this nature came up.

I was gently reassured that there is no shame in this; that it was something done to me. That my friend is right there with me. And it's okay to face this on whatever level I am able. If it gets overwhelming I may open my eyes and look around ( I tend to close them so I can focus better).

With that I went into it, knowing I'm not alone. That I have someone to help me if it gets too "thick". I didn't know what to expect but it honestly wasnt as bad as I expected (but I think I can say that this is just the beginning, the top layer). There was more of a sensation than a memory as though my body was almost physically showing me what happened. I do know there was a man, an empty barn, a concrete floor and my body did weird things I didn't understand. (I will spare the details because I dont want to trigger anyone who may be reading this.) It didn't hurt but I was afraid it would. With the fear was horrible confusion because in Mennonite culture sex and body cycles are a taboo topic that is not talked about, explained or education. There is no proper language for private parts so there was no way for me to even explain to someone else what had happened. I also didn't have a connection with my mom so I had no one to turn to. No one to talk to. No one to try to understand. I would say I was somewhere between 5-6, but that is just an estimate as I could have been younger.

Usually we try to get the part(in their own time) I am connected to that is stuck in the past to join me in the present where I am now safe. Sometimes its spontaneous. Other times it takes some hard work to communicate with them and ask them if they want to come with me to a safe place. And then the next times that part gets to the place where they want to stand up to the abuser and tell them the truth, how bad it was what they did, etc. That is what happened towards the end of the session. Sometimes I'll have a picture I want to paint to express the victory, feeling, hurt, etc. Finally realizing that all the fear, shame and confusion I had struggled with all these years belongs to my abuser, that young 5-6 year old part of me wanted to be the one to hurl that huge boulder of junk onto my abuser because he's the one that deserves it. And so...I painted a picture of it...and it has made me smile in victory more than one time since.

On Wednesday something else happened that prompted another session to take care of some more parts that were clamoring for attention. Afterwards I felt like I was more myself than I had been in a long time. It felt so good. Finally a string of events throughout my life began to make sense and be understood. What a relief!

Yesterday was a bit rough and by the time I climbed into bed it was way past my bedtime and something inside of me wanted attention and I knew I had to do something about it so I could sleep. I thought it was just sadness about something but didn't know what but allowed the tears to come as much as they wanted.

An hour rolled by. Still no sleep.

In frustration I finally sat up and as the tears flowed again I sensed rage inside of me. Rage towards this nameless man who sexually abused me. I remembered the painting I painted after my Sunday evening session. I wanted to beat him up for what he did to me and the years of struggle and suffering because of it; but since that isn't possible, after the tears were over I started speaking to him aloud, knowing no one could hear me. I lay back down and continued talking into the darkness as goosebumps prickled all over me and a boldness rose up inside of me.

"It was so wrong what you did to me.

You deserve to be punished.

You are so sick.

You are depraved.

No one in their right mind would do something like that to little girls.

You deserve to be crushed beneath all the fear, shame and confusion you put on me all those years.

You will not get away free.

God is on my side and what are you going to tell him when you stand before him?

How are you going to excuse yourself?

If you did that to other girls besides me I hope your punishment will be doubled for each one you abused.

You are so bad.

You did so wrong."

It felt good to speak these things out loud. I felt the tension leaving my body. And I was finally able to fall sleep within a few minutes after having spoken verbally into the darkness the things I wanted to say to my abuser. By then it was probably around midnight thus the title for this blog post.

I knew I wanted to write about it but I didn't know when that would be. It seems to me that when I am angry it makes me bold, bolder than I usually am. And for whatever reason I keep thinking of a lioness as I am writing this as I think about my boldness towards my abuser and I'm beginning to think that I know who my abuser is but I'm not sure. If it is who I think it might be, he has a record of abusing little girls.

As I heal, I can only imagine how similar I might be to (am becoming as) a lioness. What I see when I think of a lioness:

-protective

-loyal

-fighter

-nurturer

-advocate

I can only image the sparks that will fly if this materializes into something more. It won't be a pretty sight at all. And I tremble to think of what I may have to deal with.

But...

I'm not there yet...

And...

I can rest assured that I will have support when that time comes...

So I will go enjoy my Friday the best that I can as I have a few projects I would like to start on today if my energy last so long after my short night...

Thanks for reading! It may not be the most pleasant thing to read but to have my voice heard and my story read means so much to me. Thank you!