Then, and Now.
040422
Thursday, the 22nd of April, of the Year 2004
:
ouring myself another cup of hot coffee, clearing-off a section of my cluttered desk as I sit before the computer yet again, staring at a blank screen Reaching over and turning it On, going through the start-up cycles as I sip ever-so-carefully from my chipped cup ::
They say bad medicine is best taken quickly, all at once. I can testify to that wisdom, though I have trouble following it with the mental/emotional/physical wounds that I bear. How much can a person take, before they crack at the weak points, and crumble to dust? I feel as if Im held together by duct tape and baling wire, yet the holes are still leaking, pouring my heart and soul out to the thirsty ground
I was, I thought, a well-rounded person. Sure, Ive endured mishaps and pain in my past, as Im sure everyone can relate to. I survived a broken Family three-times-over, and ended up with a wicked StepFather that could easily come from one of Grimms Fairy Tales, complete with the bread crumbs and large oven
I dropped out of High School in my 11th Year to work full time to help my Mother support our Family, after she finally gathered the courage to escape her second marriage. When her next husband proved to be even MORE dangerous, I found myself in a situation that compelled me to join the United States Marine Corps. at the age of 18. I had to prove to myself, and by example the rest of the world that I was, indeed, a Man.
I reveled in the Corp., but found that the ideals to which I aspired were still looked upon as irrelevant, even infantile, by most of my fellow soldiers. I discovered that it was not the Corp. that made the Man, but the Man who made the Corp.. And Humans are fallable. Sometimes horribly so.
I was hurt badly as a child, then again as an adult. I have an assortment of wounds and scars that testify to my battles. I know first hand the pain of abuse, physical, mental, and even spiritual. I fell apart, however, when the reality of some of the battles made its way to the fore of my mind, and took over, omitting everything else in my Life for its terrible visages
I had things buried so deep from my past, that I never imagined they could be there, much less surface, later in life, to wreak havoc on my position in the world, bringing ruin to all aspects of my existence. I am there, right now, teetering on the edge of the precipice, not knowing how to recover myself.
How do I consol the child that was me, when I was sexually mutilated? When I was sexually traumatized and cast-aside as refuse by a person I thought I could trust, and called Friend.
How can I reconcile the events that unfolded when I was a young adult, and again sexually brutalized, tortured, almost killed? Being a Marine didnt help me, then. If anything, it made what happened even worse, as I shouldve been able to stay away from the sequence of events that led up to that horrible night; been able to defend myself adequately.
These memories were buried deep inside my mind, and were never supposed to again see the light of Day. But they wouldnt just fade away, die, and turn to dust on their own. They lay there, like a boil, waiting for their day to erupt.
I was working on a Story, for a Friend, one Autumn, when the first of the memories began to show up. I was terrified, and repulsed by what my mind was forcing me to see. I thought for certain I was loosing my mind, as the images and feelings endured were so far off the scale of horrible, I cannot think of the word that adequately describes it!
I suffer from the dreams and the flashbacks that drag me kicking and screaming from my safe place(s), only to relive the events time and time again. I have lost my career of the past 16 years, and am still reeling to this day, trying to find my place in the world, and keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. I know what it means when the word Rape is used, and have come to understand that severe depression and PTSD are now a part of my real world.
Ive become an expert at having a lack of self-confidence and esteem.
It is said that One needs to face their fears, to overcome them. That by doing so, One can finally begin to tread down the Path of Healing
I have faced my fears, and feel like Im sitting hunched-over in a corner, cowering there, peering through my interlaced fingers, wide-eyed and almost blathering like an idiot
::Tipping the cup of coffee once again, only to find it is now empty. Sighing deeply, kneading my hands and arms as they tremble, trying to regain some semblance of control::
Borrowing the closing of a favored book,
I needmore desperately than my children need mea way of seeing in the dark. What way is this? What dark is this? I cannot call it ordained of God: I cant get that far. I will however pay it so much homage. There is now, in my mouth, this sharp chain. And it never comes out.
From Equus, by Peter Shaffer.
Whicker
Thursday, the 22nd of April, of the Year 2004
:
ouring myself another cup of hot coffee, clearing-off a section of my cluttered desk as I sit before the computer yet again, staring at a blank screen Reaching over and turning it On, going through the start-up cycles as I sip ever-so-carefully from my chipped cup ::They say bad medicine is best taken quickly, all at once. I can testify to that wisdom, though I have trouble following it with the mental/emotional/physical wounds that I bear. How much can a person take, before they crack at the weak points, and crumble to dust? I feel as if Im held together by duct tape and baling wire, yet the holes are still leaking, pouring my heart and soul out to the thirsty ground
I was, I thought, a well-rounded person. Sure, Ive endured mishaps and pain in my past, as Im sure everyone can relate to. I survived a broken Family three-times-over, and ended up with a wicked StepFather that could easily come from one of Grimms Fairy Tales, complete with the bread crumbs and large oven
I dropped out of High School in my 11th Year to work full time to help my Mother support our Family, after she finally gathered the courage to escape her second marriage. When her next husband proved to be even MORE dangerous, I found myself in a situation that compelled me to join the United States Marine Corps. at the age of 18. I had to prove to myself, and by example the rest of the world that I was, indeed, a Man.
I reveled in the Corp., but found that the ideals to which I aspired were still looked upon as irrelevant, even infantile, by most of my fellow soldiers. I discovered that it was not the Corp. that made the Man, but the Man who made the Corp.. And Humans are fallable. Sometimes horribly so.
I was hurt badly as a child, then again as an adult. I have an assortment of wounds and scars that testify to my battles. I know first hand the pain of abuse, physical, mental, and even spiritual. I fell apart, however, when the reality of some of the battles made its way to the fore of my mind, and took over, omitting everything else in my Life for its terrible visages
I had things buried so deep from my past, that I never imagined they could be there, much less surface, later in life, to wreak havoc on my position in the world, bringing ruin to all aspects of my existence. I am there, right now, teetering on the edge of the precipice, not knowing how to recover myself.
How do I consol the child that was me, when I was sexually mutilated? When I was sexually traumatized and cast-aside as refuse by a person I thought I could trust, and called Friend.
How can I reconcile the events that unfolded when I was a young adult, and again sexually brutalized, tortured, almost killed? Being a Marine didnt help me, then. If anything, it made what happened even worse, as I shouldve been able to stay away from the sequence of events that led up to that horrible night; been able to defend myself adequately.
These memories were buried deep inside my mind, and were never supposed to again see the light of Day. But they wouldnt just fade away, die, and turn to dust on their own. They lay there, like a boil, waiting for their day to erupt.
I was working on a Story, for a Friend, one Autumn, when the first of the memories began to show up. I was terrified, and repulsed by what my mind was forcing me to see. I thought for certain I was loosing my mind, as the images and feelings endured were so far off the scale of horrible, I cannot think of the word that adequately describes it!
I suffer from the dreams and the flashbacks that drag me kicking and screaming from my safe place(s), only to relive the events time and time again. I have lost my career of the past 16 years, and am still reeling to this day, trying to find my place in the world, and keep both feet firmly planted on the ground. I know what it means when the word Rape is used, and have come to understand that severe depression and PTSD are now a part of my real world.
Ive become an expert at having a lack of self-confidence and esteem.
It is said that One needs to face their fears, to overcome them. That by doing so, One can finally begin to tread down the Path of Healing
I have faced my fears, and feel like Im sitting hunched-over in a corner, cowering there, peering through my interlaced fingers, wide-eyed and almost blathering like an idiot
::Tipping the cup of coffee once again, only to find it is now empty. Sighing deeply, kneading my hands and arms as they tremble, trying to regain some semblance of control::
Borrowing the closing of a favored book,
I needmore desperately than my children need mea way of seeing in the dark. What way is this? What dark is this? I cannot call it ordained of God: I cant get that far. I will however pay it so much homage. There is now, in my mouth, this sharp chain. And it never comes out.
From Equus, by Peter Shaffer.
Whicker