Rejoicing in the death of grandpa

Edited 6/22/15

I don't think I can share some details of my experiences yet, or I may never be able to share them. I posted this thinking it could help me heal. Talking about it, writing about it, sharing what was done to me could maybe help remove stigma. Remove my shame. Remove my fear. Make me feel less dirty? I don't know. But it only made me feel scared of judgment and I have felt so anxious about sharing it. I have to remove it. So I don't think I can share these details with other people right now, even if I'm remaining anonymous. So I deleted parts of my story and rephrased things. Sorry, but I'm not sorry for censoring my story.

I'm going to tell you a story. Fair warning, this story will describe a specific memory of the sexual abuse I experienced. For those who may be triggered by my recollection, I recommend that you proceed at your own will. Don't make yourself uncomfortable if you don't want to be. It's your choice.

In my previous post about repetitive thoughts, I mentioned how I feel like a shitty person for being happy when my grandfather died because he had once walked in on us. You may wonder what kind of adult doesn't put a stop to it all? The answer is the fucked up person that was grandpa.

This grandpa I talk about isn't a blood relative, not that that really matters in this regard. He should have said something regardless of blood relation. This grandpa was an adult who witnesses a crime. But he was one fucked up individual, which is most definitely no excuse.

He was a drunk, and a mean one at that. I never really cared for him. When he wasn't at the bar getting pissed or on the sofa sleeping it off, he was yelling at us all, and possibly abusive to my grandma.

I feel like this doesn't excuse my glee at his demise, no matter what harm he had done. Everyone deserves compassion and forgiveness. (Funny I can give compassion and forgiveness to others, or I preach it, but I cannot seem to be compassionate or forgive myself.)

I feel kind of weird sharing a detailed account of my experiences. Although, I think it will be a good thing to share my stories. I think it will be healing for me. I've only shared details of my abuse with a counselor, the police, and my very brave and compassionate best friend who came with me when I reported to the police. I still can't believe my friend could sit there and listen to me describe my abuse to the police. I didn't think I could handle talking about everything, let alone someone else listening to me. But she sat there holding my hands and made me feel so safe and loved. She helped me through a situation that I wasn't sure I could do. I'm so grateful to have this wonderful woman in my life and it gives me so much joy to call her my friend. She gives me the strength and resilience I need to share this story with you all.

Well, here goes this story.

There was this one time that my grandpa caught us. The grandpa was passed out drunk on the couch and my grandma had left for her 2nd shift job. She normally left my abuser in charge at this point until my parents came to pick me and my siblings up. My abuser was a late teenager. He was 15 at the youngest and 17 at the oldest. I don't really remember. I was about 5 or 6 at the time. I think I was in kindergarten or 1st grade. I can only piece together a rough timeline of the abuse because I remember a safe touch program from my 1st grade class and I remember telling myself I was going to tell the teacher, but I was so afraid. I can roughly tell you about the age I was one when I think it all ended. I believe I was maybe 7 or 8, maybe 9, when the abuse stopped. I was 9 or 10  when my grandpa died and I only know this because I recently looked up when he died. So it all started when I was about 5 and ended when I was 7-9 years old. I'd probably say more like 7 since I don't remember going to grandmas much after that age. But I also don't remember a lot, which in still not sure if I should be grateful about or not...

Well, on this day grandma left the abuser in charge as usual. Grandpa came home drunk and passed out on the couch. I was laying on grandma's bed watching Nickelodeon cartoons when the abuser came into the bedroom. He closed the door.

God, I feel so disgusting writing this, and remembering this.

He was definitely enjoying himself like the sick fucking pervert that he is when grandpa opened the door as saw us. The abuser jumped off me and I just sat there in utter fear. What was going to happen?? Was it finally going to stop? Was grandpa going to tell my parents? Was I going to get in trouble?

Grandpa started yelling. "What the fuck are you doing??? You stop that!!!!" He yelled at me. Not him. Me. I was definitely in trouble.

My parents came to pick me up. I was terrified. What are my parents going to say?? What are they going to do to me??? Are they going to love me still?

Grandpa never said anything. Ever. I lived in fear that he'd say something. He knew my dirty little secret. It was agony never knowing if or when he was going to tell my parents. I thought my parents would react the same way. I thought that they'd punish me. I thought they would hate me. Grandpa never said a word. He took my secret to his grave. And I rejoiced.

I shared this story with my previous counselor and he suggested that I probably never said anything to an adult before because I was just that terrified I would get into a lot of trouble because of grandpa's reaction. He reacted so explosively angry toward me that I feared my parents or any other adult would do the same. I guess it makes sense. I still don't feel good about it. My adult brain tells my child self that I was wrong and I should have told someone.

My adult self and child self obviously have some communication issues.

Repetitive unhealthy thoughts

My therapist was telling me about thought stopping, which is just as it sounds: stopping your thoughts. From my (Buddhist-oriented) perspective, it seems odd. In Buddhism, you are taught to not stop your thoughts/emotions or repress them, but to acknowledge them, even if they are painful. For example, a memory crossed my mind about my parents' divorce which brought me sorrow so I acknowledge the memory and emotions it evoked and then let it pass. I say, "I see you sorrow. I love you sorrow," and then I let it pass. This makes sense to me because you don't repress the thoughts, memories, or emotions and it doesn't come back to bite you in the ass later. In this practice, you deal with it as it comes to you and accept the good and bad emotions. They are a part of you.

Thought stopping sounds odd to me, but I don't fully understand it yet. My therapist just described it in my last session because I have these repetitive thoughts. We'll call them "unhealthy and painful" in place of "irrational" because all of our thoughts and feelings are valid and I feel like calling them "irrational thoughts" invalidates my thoughts and emotions. I digress.

Well I have these unhealthy thoughts that cause me emotional pain and my therapist wants to try "thought stopping" to control them. Even though I know the sexual abuse that I went through as a child isn't my fault, I still blame myself. This is just one of the awful things I think about myself so my therapist said I need to stop these thoughts in their tracks. (Hopefully we'll talk more about these thoughts and dissect them in therapy so I can understand the root causes because otherwise I'm not sure that thought stopping is really going to benefit me.)

My first homework assignment in this thought stopping business is to identify repetitive, unhealthy thoughts. So here it goes. A list of all my unhealthy thoughts that replay in my mind and contribute to my mental anguish.

Why didn't I say something to an adult? I could have stopped it.

My abuser went on to abuse other children. I feel like I abused those children because I never tried to stop him. I never told anyone. It's my fault that there are more victims left in his wake.

I watched him abuse my little sister and another cousin. And I didn't do a fucking thing. I'm a shitty person.

I'm a shitty person for being happy when my grandpa died because he once walked in on my abuser and I. He yelled at me, but never told anyone and I was relieved when he died because he never could tell anyone now. I'm horrible.

I'm disgusting because my body reacted to what was going on to me. As an adult I know it's all about biology, but I feel like my body betrayed me. I liked how it made me feel and that makes me the most vile person on the planet.

I hate my mom for letting me go to that house. And this makes me hate myself because I do love my mom, but I hate her at the same time. She didn't do it to me, but I blame her for it.

I hate myself. I'm disgusting.

I blame myself for it all. And that makes me feel more guilty because my adult brain tells me that the child that this was happening to wasn't at fault. But I still cannot shake this thought that I'm at fault. I brought it on. I asked for it. I mean, seriously. What fucked up, twisted person liked something that fucked up?

I wish I could forget it all. I wish I could turn back time and tell someone.

I don't deserve to be loved. I'm filthy.

I'm what they call "damaged goods."

I don't deserve happiness. I helped him get away with this for two decades. Who knows how many more children he hurt? Who knows how many children I let this happen to? I let this happen.

Fractured Psyche

The foundation is cracking

and the walls are crumbling around me.

Windows shatter, releasing

long held fears that I have imprisoned.

For years, I spent fortifying the dams

to house the memories that threaten to drown me.

And now it's all breaking

and reflecting back to me my darkest secrets.

They threaten to unearth me

to consume and destroy the infrastructure,

the very essence of my being.

And I revel in the interlude

between the darkness and the light.

I wait for the putrid dark to return

dripping with self loathing.

But maybe the fracturing of my mind will

bring forth the light instead of the dark.

To infuse my soul with peace

and contentment. And maybe, just maybe,

I can let go of these thoughts and move on with my life.

I wish to be a frog

I took these photos of a frog a few years ago while working a job. I was out doing my morning work and I stumbled upon this little frog hiding in the grass. I was so intrigued with how it blended in with the green grass and morning dew. I stooped and marveled at it for probably a good five minutes. I stared at this beautiful create in awe and jealousy. I wished that I could be like this frog and just blend in with my surroundings, to fit in. Most of all, I was jealous of the frog's calmness.

Quite frequently, I wish I could blend with everyone else, my surroundings. I wish to melt into the masses. To be like everyone else. I'm socially inept. I am introverted. I'm awkward. I don't know how to have small talk. I tell dumb jokes. I laugh at inappropriate times. I don't understand other people and their social interactions. I don't know what to do at networking events or social gatherings. I frequently sit alone in a corner watching everyone else. I try so fucking hard to be like everyone else, but I fail. I try so hard to make friends, to start relationships, to talk to people. To connect. I just want to connect.

I'm on the outside looking in. I thought this phase would end when I left high school.

I'd fully blame the disconnect on technology, but in my case, I know that's not the issue. I have spent my entire life building walls to keep people away from me. I have created my own disconnection from the world and I have no clue how to reconnect the pieces. How do I start? Where do I start?

This disconnect from my world creates so much unrest, so much anxiety and fear, that I am jealous of this frog's calmness. He sits so still, so calm, just watching me. He doesn't squirm or run away, even though he has no idea if I am friend or foe. He calmly waits for me to leave his space. He is braver than I am.

Me, on the other hand? I fidget. I'm uncomfortable. People looking at me or talking to me makes me nervous. Anyone even remotely close to invading my personal bubble puts me on edge. The anxiety from being in social situations actually prevents me for even attending events. I feel like people have to twist my arms and drag me. A lot of my life is spent at home by myself binge watching Netflix. But even being at home doesn't put the anxiety at bay because I feel guilty for bailing on plans or not following through. I feel lonely. I feel stressed. I don't know how to be calm, to be at peace with myself and my environment.

I have been trying to meditate to calm myself, but I find myself making to-do lists and that brings me more anxiety. Sometimes I meditate and I find myself in a heap of tears and wailing in sadness.

Sometimes I just wish to be like this calm frog who obviously fits in his surroundings. I want that.

Edit 6/16/15:

Today I found this quote from the Dalai Lama and it was perfectly timed.

"Our state of mind plays a major role in our day-to-day experiences as well as our physical and mental well-being. If a person has a calm and stable mind, this influences his or her attitude and behavior in relation to others. In other words, if someone remains in a peaceful and tranquil state of mind, external surroundings can cause them only a limited disturbance."

Introduction

Hello, my name will remain anonymous, but you may call me OneBraveStep. This blog is the story of my brave steps to recovery. I will keep myself, and the people mentioned, in my blog anonymous. I am a woman in my 20s who has remained silent and protecting her abuser for almost two decades. He doesn't deserve protection. It is time that I finally speak.

I experienced recurrent sexual trauma as a child. I cannot tell you for how long, but it started when I was about 5 years old. My memories are slightly hazy and I haven't decided if that's a good or bad thing. My therapist tells me this is common for children who experience traumatic events. I do not remember everything. I cannot give an exact timeline. I cannot tell you what he did or said to me to keep my silence. I cannot remember a lot, but as I have been confronting the memories that I do recall, more have been unsealed from my vaulted mind and I have begun painfully piecing together my past. I have begun the process of putting myself back together, one jagged fragment at a time.

I have been in therapy for awhile now. I finally broke that silence. I reported to the police a year ago. Reporting has not changed anything for me. If anything, it has made me more angry. No charges have been pressed against my abuser, and I feel that police are reluctant to investigate since it's been twenty years are there is not any evidence to prove his guilt. The detective who caught my case interviewed my abuser and of course the vile asshole denied it all. It's just my recollection, and the recollection of others who were involved, who may not be willing to take the brave step I took to break the silence. It's my word against his, and I feel like his word won. It is discouraging that nothing is moving forward with my case, but I have to take solace in the fact that I bravely stood up and said, "Yes, he harmed me and I will NOT remain silent any longer."

This trauma has caused me a lot of pain in my life. I have been depressed for as long as I can remember. I have felt guilty, shameful, dirty, broken, unhappy, unworthy, undeserving of love and affection, suicidal, self depreciation, and a myriad of other feelings for far too long. Why is it me who feels this way? Why doesn't he feel this way? Why do I blame myself? I was a little girl. He was the adult. I have dealt with this emotional pain for too long. It has affected my relationships. It has prevented me from forming romantic bonds. It has prevented me from moving forward. I feel stuck. It's time that I confront it and allow myself to move on; which is much easier said than done.

What will my life look like when I've finally moved on and put this behind me? What will I be like when I've learned to forgive him and be more compassionate? What will I feel like? I want to know this version of myself so badly. I cannot wait to see this life. For the first time in a long time, I feel hopeful. I look forward to the future.