Thoughts on othe thoughts
I need to talk. No one said we couldn't talk when we needed to. This is my third post today, maybe fourth, but no one said there were limits on posts in one day. I feel guilty, but what the heck?
This has been one of the worst ever...worst. I was writing a post and suddenly out of nowhere comes my kid and he has to talk. It was the strangest feeling. I knew I had triggered him and that he was coming through. It's terrible when something that you don't really think you believe in happens to you. Not believing becomes very difficult, and at the same time, you think you've lost it completely. But the kid was adamant.
He remembered....for me. He wanted me to know. He wanted me to see. He wanted me to feel. And so he showed me. One of the worst parts of the whole thing and one of the worst parts of this whole SA thing (although naming a worst part is a bit like deciding which bee from the swarm stung you the hardest) for me has been knowing in some way that SA was a fact of life for my child. It was just something that happened like eating or drinking. During the experience I had today, the kid wasn't afraid...he expected what was going to happen. As his father came into the room he got up on his hands and knees so that his father would have access to him. That is one of the worst realizations for me. He got into a position he knew he was supposed to be in. I can't even comprehend what that must be like. Well, yes I can. He let me feel that today. But he didn't even think about it. It was simply going to happen.
I don't know why the feelings seldom go any further for me into the action after the initial phase, if that's what you call it. I am penetrated and then I remember nothing more. Surely there was some movement...some sexual manipulation of some kind. I don't think he just sat there with his hand...... But, so far, I haven't seen or felt anything like that. After the initial penetration, everything just stops...except the depression.
But it's not really a depression. I've been depressed. There is something there in depression. There is not just nothingness. Maybe I've never been depressed enough to understand. This child is feeling nothing. This child is void of emotion. This child is a limp rag. While all of this is going on, his body does not exist. His thoughts do not exist. He has flipped a switch and does not think or feel.
And yet he knows. I don't know how to put it exactly. When I say he doesn't feel...well, he does. He feels the sensations, but somehow they don't register like sensations usually do. They are in a class all by themselves...sort of a non-sensation sensation.
Wow! Explaining that to you just now seems to have been what I needed to do. Before I did that, in my last post, I was full of anguish and didn't know what to do with it. Now I sort of understand and can deal with it.
Do you ever get that anguish thing? Do you ever feel like something...something horrible...something very significant, needs to push out of your brain, needs to be seen in the light, so to speak? It simply has to come out of there. And yet it doesn't. You can't quite get a read on it. You can't reach in and pull it out. But you know that, if you could, there would be an answer there.
That's the way I was tonight. And when I get that way, the loneliness hits hard, because you can't explain that to anyone...sometimes not even to yourself. You just have to sit in frustration and try to get to it in some way. The anxiety is terrible. That's when I wish for one of you to be here, so I can just say that and have someone understand...so I won't feel so alone and so desperate.
I wrote that horrible post earlier this afternoon. It truly was an amazing thing to me, and very hard on me at the same time, and I rushed home to see if anyone had posted anything. One friend had, but that was all. I felt betrayed in a way. Where were you? Why were you letting me hurt all alone? I needed to know you were there.
Of course, I know it was irrational thinking, but there it was. So I wrote strange things about my anguish, etc. It was a way of coping for me, because I knew it was silly to wonder where you were. Not everyone is like me and spends so much time here, and no one owes me anything...anything at all.
But, really, where were you? I was hurting so very, very badly, and no one was here. Bobby
This has been one of the worst ever...worst. I was writing a post and suddenly out of nowhere comes my kid and he has to talk. It was the strangest feeling. I knew I had triggered him and that he was coming through. It's terrible when something that you don't really think you believe in happens to you. Not believing becomes very difficult, and at the same time, you think you've lost it completely. But the kid was adamant.
He remembered....for me. He wanted me to know. He wanted me to see. He wanted me to feel. And so he showed me. One of the worst parts of the whole thing and one of the worst parts of this whole SA thing (although naming a worst part is a bit like deciding which bee from the swarm stung you the hardest) for me has been knowing in some way that SA was a fact of life for my child. It was just something that happened like eating or drinking. During the experience I had today, the kid wasn't afraid...he expected what was going to happen. As his father came into the room he got up on his hands and knees so that his father would have access to him. That is one of the worst realizations for me. He got into a position he knew he was supposed to be in. I can't even comprehend what that must be like. Well, yes I can. He let me feel that today. But he didn't even think about it. It was simply going to happen.
I don't know why the feelings seldom go any further for me into the action after the initial phase, if that's what you call it. I am penetrated and then I remember nothing more. Surely there was some movement...some sexual manipulation of some kind. I don't think he just sat there with his hand...... But, so far, I haven't seen or felt anything like that. After the initial penetration, everything just stops...except the depression.
But it's not really a depression. I've been depressed. There is something there in depression. There is not just nothingness. Maybe I've never been depressed enough to understand. This child is feeling nothing. This child is void of emotion. This child is a limp rag. While all of this is going on, his body does not exist. His thoughts do not exist. He has flipped a switch and does not think or feel.
And yet he knows. I don't know how to put it exactly. When I say he doesn't feel...well, he does. He feels the sensations, but somehow they don't register like sensations usually do. They are in a class all by themselves...sort of a non-sensation sensation.
Wow! Explaining that to you just now seems to have been what I needed to do. Before I did that, in my last post, I was full of anguish and didn't know what to do with it. Now I sort of understand and can deal with it.
Do you ever get that anguish thing? Do you ever feel like something...something horrible...something very significant, needs to push out of your brain, needs to be seen in the light, so to speak? It simply has to come out of there. And yet it doesn't. You can't quite get a read on it. You can't reach in and pull it out. But you know that, if you could, there would be an answer there.
That's the way I was tonight. And when I get that way, the loneliness hits hard, because you can't explain that to anyone...sometimes not even to yourself. You just have to sit in frustration and try to get to it in some way. The anxiety is terrible. That's when I wish for one of you to be here, so I can just say that and have someone understand...so I won't feel so alone and so desperate.
I wrote that horrible post earlier this afternoon. It truly was an amazing thing to me, and very hard on me at the same time, and I rushed home to see if anyone had posted anything. One friend had, but that was all. I felt betrayed in a way. Where were you? Why were you letting me hurt all alone? I needed to know you were there.
Of course, I know it was irrational thinking, but there it was. So I wrote strange things about my anguish, etc. It was a way of coping for me, because I knew it was silly to wonder where you were. Not everyone is like me and spends so much time here, and no one owes me anything...anything at all.
But, really, where were you? I was hurting so very, very badly, and no one was here. Bobby