Time For A Break--The Cup is Overflowing
I think I need to sign-off to find what is lost--me. I will be leaving for my mind is not here. It is wrapped in the abuse. I thought I had it under control.
I have wonderful support and kindness from the Diocese but I cannot let it go. I believe I have conquered but I have not. I need to get away and find myself or maybe I need to further lose myself. Not sure which way it will go. I am exhausted, the fight has been long and sometimes I am learning we just need to say enough is enough. I am sad and cannot hang onto the smile and pretending to laugh robs me of all strength. It is ironic I came to terms with the Diocese, thinking that is my final step, but it raises the past more vividly. I see him, I feel him and I think the feeling of his body on mine is the worst, I think of how I gazed out those transom windows hoping to be rescued and I was not. I was left there, probably no one saw me but then life dealt me more blows of being left, being abandoned like I felt. I think of John more often these past few weeks, what was his life during his last days. He must have suffered so much so young. I hid the pain and emotions for so long and maybe I am where he was almost 50 years ago. Do we ever really heal and does the pain ever end. And Thomas I wonder what ever became of him. Did he get help or did he suffer a lifetime like so many of us. So much thought of pain and hurt consume my day, my soul and life.
An absence from life is what I probably need to regain strength and focus. I can barely keep my eyes open. When they close it hurts more because I see him and relive what he did to me. The crucifix, his body, the holy water piercing me with pain. John who did things to me and now I know it was to protect me but I hated him and I feel guilty for hating him for the wrong reasons. His parents I am sad are probably dead by now and never knew why their son died. I knew but did not tell because then everyone would know about me. I was a sinner the priest told me, I made him do it, I would be taken from my home if anyone knew. I have never had true peace, moments and periods when people loved me. My friend gives me love and a sense of peace after decades of feeling abandoned, abused and ignored.
I see what was done, saliva hurling in the air towards my face, grease being thrown and me and the ex saying you clean it up you made him do it, climbing out the window and dangling from the base and dropping to the ground because I was locked in the room, the door tied shut and he was in the room with me--waiting to get his hands on me once again. I now could escape through the window. Never feeling safe in my home--children taunting, spitting, throwing, accusing and ganging up together. Even memories if I opened the refrigerator people screaming from the upstairs get out of there, leaving the bathroom and from rooms far away wash your hands, food being taped and sealed so I would not snack but if the ex or children wanted it was ok with the response I made it, computers and telephone being stolen and invaded, car being ransacked and the list goes on. I had to do a list for a doctor friend to help me let out the pain of not only the abuse but that inflicted by the family. He said with all that was done it is amazing I was still alive and I had not cracked or done something dire.
I see their faces, the children and ex, and behind them he stands. I hear him saying told you so no one would believe me he smirks, I deserved it. They brought him to life each and every day and then run when the truth surfaces. They tell people they did nothing to bring this man back into my life, for him to live with me daily. The tell stories and lies to protect themselves. Years and decades of these feelings have finally taken their toll. I remember being stranded at the hospital, first receiving a threatening call from the ex as I was in the neurological unit being evaluated by neurology and physciatrists and then one of the children saying he could not pick me up because he was tired from work. When I think of how many miles I drove that child at all hours of the day and this is his response. I think of how one of the children stalked someone on this site and how it hurt that person. How the others have ignored a person they were slowly killing.
My brother Brian I think of him. I have a picture on my computer and I was looking at him today. So sad, he left us too young. Was it my fault, was my silence the key that sealed his fate. Why I am here and he is not--so unfair. I have this guilt, and I do not know with certainty if he was abused, but the priest's words ring in my head, if I do not come back there is your younger brother. Did the priest lie to me? Maybe and I will never know. I live with this guilt and fear it was all my fault.
I see so much and remember too much. Never letting it out. Letting them ignore, never telling them how disappointed I am in them as human beings for not having compassion and kindness, always running to those who find joy in laughing at others and expecting recognition for any good deed--which tells me never done from the heart. It is their lives and I hope they find peace. I made mistakes and people suffered from them. I lost everything but none admit their treatment of me greatly impacted my ability to perform, to live, to be productive. I was constantly in a state of despair and fear--fear they will laugh for they see themselves as kind and see nothing wrong with what is in the many page list that shocked a doctor.
The priest still lives, should have been dead but he defies illness, the children still ignore and taunt--never asking how I feel. Some said to me they must be heartless knowing I faced the Diocese and none of the children asked did it help, was I alright--some say because they will have to face their lies and callousness--I do not know and do not care.
My words and everything that happened is documented and with someone special to me. She will know and I have asked the words be put to a blog if she is able. The hope is to help someone else and allow families to see the damage they can do to one who lived CSA. It speaks of their good but also speaks of the evil, him my abuser, they inflicted on me.
I also speak of the kindness of many, their hearts full and the support groups that sustained and gave me these years of life.
It is time for me to take my absence and see where it leads. Exhaustion, fear and pain are my enemy but the abuse and abuser are my demons--that will not die.
Thank you my friends you have given much.
Kevin
I have wonderful support and kindness from the Diocese but I cannot let it go. I believe I have conquered but I have not. I need to get away and find myself or maybe I need to further lose myself. Not sure which way it will go. I am exhausted, the fight has been long and sometimes I am learning we just need to say enough is enough. I am sad and cannot hang onto the smile and pretending to laugh robs me of all strength. It is ironic I came to terms with the Diocese, thinking that is my final step, but it raises the past more vividly. I see him, I feel him and I think the feeling of his body on mine is the worst, I think of how I gazed out those transom windows hoping to be rescued and I was not. I was left there, probably no one saw me but then life dealt me more blows of being left, being abandoned like I felt. I think of John more often these past few weeks, what was his life during his last days. He must have suffered so much so young. I hid the pain and emotions for so long and maybe I am where he was almost 50 years ago. Do we ever really heal and does the pain ever end. And Thomas I wonder what ever became of him. Did he get help or did he suffer a lifetime like so many of us. So much thought of pain and hurt consume my day, my soul and life.
An absence from life is what I probably need to regain strength and focus. I can barely keep my eyes open. When they close it hurts more because I see him and relive what he did to me. The crucifix, his body, the holy water piercing me with pain. John who did things to me and now I know it was to protect me but I hated him and I feel guilty for hating him for the wrong reasons. His parents I am sad are probably dead by now and never knew why their son died. I knew but did not tell because then everyone would know about me. I was a sinner the priest told me, I made him do it, I would be taken from my home if anyone knew. I have never had true peace, moments and periods when people loved me. My friend gives me love and a sense of peace after decades of feeling abandoned, abused and ignored.
I see what was done, saliva hurling in the air towards my face, grease being thrown and me and the ex saying you clean it up you made him do it, climbing out the window and dangling from the base and dropping to the ground because I was locked in the room, the door tied shut and he was in the room with me--waiting to get his hands on me once again. I now could escape through the window. Never feeling safe in my home--children taunting, spitting, throwing, accusing and ganging up together. Even memories if I opened the refrigerator people screaming from the upstairs get out of there, leaving the bathroom and from rooms far away wash your hands, food being taped and sealed so I would not snack but if the ex or children wanted it was ok with the response I made it, computers and telephone being stolen and invaded, car being ransacked and the list goes on. I had to do a list for a doctor friend to help me let out the pain of not only the abuse but that inflicted by the family. He said with all that was done it is amazing I was still alive and I had not cracked or done something dire.
I see their faces, the children and ex, and behind them he stands. I hear him saying told you so no one would believe me he smirks, I deserved it. They brought him to life each and every day and then run when the truth surfaces. They tell people they did nothing to bring this man back into my life, for him to live with me daily. The tell stories and lies to protect themselves. Years and decades of these feelings have finally taken their toll. I remember being stranded at the hospital, first receiving a threatening call from the ex as I was in the neurological unit being evaluated by neurology and physciatrists and then one of the children saying he could not pick me up because he was tired from work. When I think of how many miles I drove that child at all hours of the day and this is his response. I think of how one of the children stalked someone on this site and how it hurt that person. How the others have ignored a person they were slowly killing.
My brother Brian I think of him. I have a picture on my computer and I was looking at him today. So sad, he left us too young. Was it my fault, was my silence the key that sealed his fate. Why I am here and he is not--so unfair. I have this guilt, and I do not know with certainty if he was abused, but the priest's words ring in my head, if I do not come back there is your younger brother. Did the priest lie to me? Maybe and I will never know. I live with this guilt and fear it was all my fault.
I see so much and remember too much. Never letting it out. Letting them ignore, never telling them how disappointed I am in them as human beings for not having compassion and kindness, always running to those who find joy in laughing at others and expecting recognition for any good deed--which tells me never done from the heart. It is their lives and I hope they find peace. I made mistakes and people suffered from them. I lost everything but none admit their treatment of me greatly impacted my ability to perform, to live, to be productive. I was constantly in a state of despair and fear--fear they will laugh for they see themselves as kind and see nothing wrong with what is in the many page list that shocked a doctor.
The priest still lives, should have been dead but he defies illness, the children still ignore and taunt--never asking how I feel. Some said to me they must be heartless knowing I faced the Diocese and none of the children asked did it help, was I alright--some say because they will have to face their lies and callousness--I do not know and do not care.
My words and everything that happened is documented and with someone special to me. She will know and I have asked the words be put to a blog if she is able. The hope is to help someone else and allow families to see the damage they can do to one who lived CSA. It speaks of their good but also speaks of the evil, him my abuser, they inflicted on me.
I also speak of the kindness of many, their hearts full and the support groups that sustained and gave me these years of life.
It is time for me to take my absence and see where it leads. Exhaustion, fear and pain are my enemy but the abuse and abuser are my demons--that will not die.
Thank you my friends you have given much.
Kevin
