Thursday, April 28, 2011

The Truth Hurts and Then It Sets Me Free

*This post contains highly sensitive subject matter. It may be especially hard to read if you are close to me. Please proceed with caution and feel free to bail out at anytime.

In the interest of remaining Bare I am going to share a story that is incredibly painful. Yes it's a bit worse than having ppd. It is most likely the cause of my ppd(aside from chemical imbalance). No doubt it is the cause of a lot of things. I won't be giving details. I don't want to give some random perpetrator any thrill or ideas. I don't want to make any sensitive souls sick.

As I write this it is 12:16am. I had to get out of bed to take a Valium to stop racing thoughts. Last night my husband had to take me down with a Valium and two strong drinks to stop "data recall".

I have always known that something bad happened when I was a child. Actually, a lot of not so perfect things happened when I was a child. The bad things I could not remember were the ones that troubled me. I knew they had to be really bad if I had blocked them. I hadn't blocked parental alcoholism, verbal abuse or violence. I told you before my parents weren't perfect, no one is. I had long ago made peace with all of that nonsense. As the proverb goes "shit happens".  I still loved them. They still did a fine job of raising me even though they did it a bit messy. The bad things I could not remember, but knew were there, terrified me.  I was afraid that when I finally remembered, they would have been perpetrated by someone I loved.

When I first started feeling I had postpartum depression I did some research. I learned that the experience of giving birth either vaginally or c-section can sometimes trigger repressed memories. As beautiful as it is, birth is also pretty traumatic. It's also centered around your second chakra which relates to your sexuality so, it makes sense if you have had sexual trauma this may awaken body/mind recall.

I started having mini breakthroughs. Just quick pictures as I would have other racing thoughts. I would stop and scan through all the adults in my childhood. That's what I was doing wrong. My whole life I've been scanning memories of adults. I was looking in the wrong place. I would have never figured it out except I visited ViolenceUnsilenced. Right there on the front page it warns you about triggers. It clearly states that stories written by survivors of violence or sexual abuse may trigger repressed memories. I thought to myself "go for it, let's do this".  I was so tired of this looming specter.

I read about seven stories. Mixed in with those seven were two stories where the perpetrators were other children. Blam! My mind exploded into a million crystal clear pieces. I became physically ill. The computer screen was zooming in and out. I had a Migraine no medicine could stop. I was hot and cold. I was stuttering to myself as I put together the incidents. I just wanted my husband to come home.

It's been several days now. I think I've pieced together as much as I need to. There are still some black spots. That is probably for the best. I'm not ok that these things happened but, I am relieved it was not a trusted adult. For the record I'm not fucking forgiving anyone. I don't need to forgive to recover, seriously screw that. I can move on without forgiving. I'm not a sheep. I will turn no cheek. That shit was unthinkable, outrageous, and inhumane. Let whatever God my perpetrators pray to at night forgive them or better yet strike them down. I will forgive one person only. I forgive myself.

To know something happened and to truly remember it are two totally different ballgames. I'm going to be ok.
I can now take my rightful place upon a pedestal.  I can stop cowering in the dark corner afraid and confused.  


  1. ...thank you for sharing.

  2. Having just read this post, so many emotions kind of TWIST up and choke me. I have a fantastic memory, which doesn't help. 35 and still angry. I don't care if some assholes were hauled to jail, ended up there or died. I was fucked up and am now one very, fucked up person, with very deep-rooted trust (among many more) issues.
    I own my fucked up-ness, though. As do you. It doesn't control what we do or how behave. It isn't the cheap excuse to do fuck all because we were hurt. It does make us understand, on a deeper level, exactly how much our children need protecting and guidance.