Work

Sometimes we get busy with our jobs because it is required of us or because we want to improve our position. Sometimes we get busy to avoid other things. Sometimes I don't know which category I am falling into that day.

I love my job. I am respected there and people appreciate me. It's nice to be wanted, but it's easy to let that control your plans and goals. I mean afterall, didn't we as victims of sexual abuse cooperate in keeping silence because someone else told us to. It was expected of us. I was threatened often. Some of you were too, I'm sure. So we kept the secret and worked around this terrible secret basically allowing it to change our plans and goals in our lives. To not let it control our plans and decisions would mean we would have to tell. That was too scary at the time.

So, I find that making people happy, making sure they like me sometimes is too important to me. I'm learning to not care so much. At least I'm learning to be me better and then it's easier to not feel like you have to please others all the time. It's a work in progress. But I guess we all are.

The Angst

Some of my sisters understand the struggle of weight. For me, I've come to realize that weight has been a protective layer. Men don't flirt or come on to fat women. Works pretty well. Don't have to deal with all that sexuality that way. At least that is my experience.

So recently, I've lost a bunch of weight. It is noticeable. And I am getting comments. I have more to go before I'm at a healthy weight, but I do feel and look much better. Most comments are from other women since we seem to always worry about our weight and learn from each other. But, the guys are noticing as well. No, I haven't had any real come ons yet. But, I can tell that I am feeling anxious about it. I feel as though I am sabotaging my own weight loss. Maybe I need to take it slower. I guess I'm not sure.

Rejoining the world of sexual awareness....I guess I've been blind to all the sexual interchange that goes on...purposefully so. But, now I'm waking up and I guess I find it scary. So, I take it day by day. Wear clothes that have been stuffed in the back of my closet. Try to in some way show off the difference. Try to be out there and aware. Am I the only one who struggles this way. Talk to me sisters!

Vacation?

I used to love the TV show "The Waltons". And for that matter, even "The Brady Bunch" or "The Partridge Family". These were great escapes for someone who knew her family was sick or at least knew there was something better out there.

So this summer I returned to NJ to visit my family. And they are nothing like John Boy and Mary Ellen. I haven't been back in a few years. Why did I bother? Mom's aging, getting sicker, may be the last visit...take your pick. So, I embarked on a journey with my son to visit the childhood home area. We stayed with mom, that in itself was a challenge. From chain smoking boyfriend who can't be trusted to a mother who cares more for placating people than standing up for the truth, .... well it was challenging everyday for sure.

However, in spite of these challenges I was able to make some great strides. I was more able to be in touch with me and not be the doormat I was trained to be as a child. I was able to talk with my brothers briefly about the abuse....at least enough to tell them about the threats, the intensity and duration of the abuse....to talk to them about how it had destroyed the whole family and our relationships. They were both rather quiet, not knowing what to say or how to react. At least they didn't react negatively or just tell me to get on with my life. I did realize later through comments from both of their wives made that they had been affected and were saddened by the abuse I suffered. At least a little bit.

I also attempted conversation with my mother. I learned a bit more about her and understood a bit more how weak she is as a person. I understood how she had been touched sexually by a brother-in-law at a time when you could not speak up about such things. So much so that as a senior adult, when her sister passed, she still feared being in the same room with this man. I feel pity for her, as I see her just being swallowed up by life's experiences. In the face of recent illness, she seems to be giving up.

Mostly, since being home with my own, I feel thankful that I have been blessed. God has given me strength to survive and overcome years of abuse. He has blessed me in an unbelievable measure. I am able to share freely about my childhood without fear, well maybe a little anxiety still :o) I am able to begin to help others to heal. I believe the strength God has given me is not just for me, but for me to help others. My experiences, though awful and rather extensive, pale in comparison to those of some of my sisters. I'm referring of course to Sisters who have been abused. If I do little else in my life that the world may recognize as successful, if I help another Sister to heal, to move toward wholeness and peace, then I have done well.

God Bless. Peace to you. And thanks for listening.

The Busy Mind

Being busy can be good. In the past I have often used that to keep from thinking about problems. I still do sometimes. I think it can be healthy if not overused.
Sometimes a respite is needed.

But I've come to believe that a busy mind is not the normal state of the mind. For me it was a way to avoid the abusive situation I grew up in. I honestly didn't know any other way. But busy minds, don't have time left over for being creative or reflecting. Too much energy is used up with anxiety and defensiveness.

Joyce Meyer talks about this in her book "The Battlefield of the Mind". She talks about the anxious mind being one that can never be at peace for they are polar points of existence. Once you have begun to deal with your own anxieties, issues or demons, you will find that you have time to think on other things. You can choose to continue having an anxious mind or you can choose to have a peaceful mind. Of course, it takes much practice to make this change.

Joyce encourages us to think on the good things, the blessings we have been given and to have faith for the future. Of course if you know Joyce's works, you know that she has much scriptural support for her writings. One such scripture is Philippians 4:6 and 7.

"Be careful for nothing, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known unto God. And the peace of God, which passeth all understanding shall keep your hearts and minds through Jesus Christ."

For those of you like myself, this journey to a peaceful mind is daily. Some day harder than others. But it does get easier. I have found myself lately with some time to just sit and converse and share with family. (Of course, I am on vacation and it is easier to do that when you are away from the daily grind.) But, I also find myself with time on my hands at home more often where I can choose what to do and I don't have to keep working to feel safe, or loved, or happy or at peace. It is quite nice. I can relax, read, write on my blog and not worry! It is a nice change. And if this has been a struggle of yours, I encourage you think on the good things. Be at peace.

Bones

I used to think "the abuse was a long time ago. That was then. This is now." I was totally unaware of how much the past was affecting my present. Emotional damage yes, and physical.

We bury things to survive. These things live in our bodies, they live in our bones and flesh. They cause tension, physical problems and a myriad of emotional problems. But of course we don't know it at the time. At the time, it was a healthy response, a survival based response. It was necessary at least for a survivor of long-term sexual abuse.

For me, as time went on it seemed I didn't realize what I had hidden. Yes, I remembered my abuse, but the feelings, the confusion, the anger had all been buried. I basically had denied myself and disconnected myself from my feelings. You can't do that without repercussions. There is a price to pay for storing all that stress.

The price I believe is intimately knowing and being in touch with the "real' you. You tend to be more of a puppet, unsure of yourself and your own opinions. And you tend to adapt to those around you really well, too well even.

Fortunately, there is hope. Through competent counseling and much effort you can reconnect. It takes a lot of work and it is painful. BUT IT IS WORTH IT! YOU ARE WORTH IT! For me, it took EMDR, and some hypnosis. But, you'll have to figure out your own needs. I encourage you to do it. Be brave, be patient with yourself and learn to love the "real" you.

Family

What does one do with family? As a child, you assume every family is like yours. You may assume as I did that your parents love you and would protect you no matter what. Brothers too would care and protect you. But i learned very early on that I would not be protected. So, my mom was still my mom. Confusion arose, of course, but she was my mom. So when the abuse continued and the threats made to maintain silence increased in intensity, I protected my mom. Because that is what family is supposed to do. Or so I thought.

So now I'm older. I've been through counseling and much healing has occured. But in my family, I am still viewed as the same. Still the one to dump on, use for your own purposes, pretend I exist for your needs. I don't really exixt within the context of my family. Not the real me anyway.

Someday I will confront my brothers. Tell them the truth. But, I don't know if that will change anything as far as our relationship. But, I will no longer be there to dump on and I will take no grief.

My mother....what can I say. She knows some of the truth and can't handle the rest. She is still my mother, but by genetics and name only. There is no real mother daughter relationship. And I don't think there ever will be. Because in order to have that type of relationship you have to have trust. And she has betrayed me over and over again. So, I will keep my distance. And grieve for what could have been.

The Doormat

I don't remember when it began. I was quite young. But I do remember the night that I knew I was on my own, that no one would protect me. I think I was six.

What happens to a child when they know that a monster is after them and wants to harm them and no one will help them. They try to hide but cannot. So they hide inside themselves.

I don't know when I began to do this. But trying to hide the pain and keeping the secret were all consuming. I began to feel like keeping the family happy was my responsibility. My burden. The threats that I receiving from stepdad also helped burden me with unbearable responsibility. "If you tell, then mom will be mad at me" or "She'll divorce me and it will be your fault" and the motherlode "I'll kill myself and everyone will be unhappy and it will be your fault." Much, much more than I could bear. Than I should have been made to bear for I was only a child.

So, I learned my place in my family. I was the doormat, my feelings, my reality, my entire being not worthy of mention and certainly not worthy of the family's attention. Meant to be used, abused and forgotten. And so it was...

The Doormat

Treads come undone,
No repair is made.
Torn, tattered and ignored.
Cleaned up superficially,
So to be seen by the world.
Outside presentable.
Bring no attention or disgrace.
Foundation not lain.
Empty inside.
No strength to protect,
But always there to be used.
Value unknown.
Not cared for by most,
Ignored by the rest.
Walked on, used, abused and
Thrown away.