* When I was about 8 or 9 my mom used to come in my room in the middle of the night and pull the covers off of me. She would usually quickly put them back on me. I never ask her why she was doing it. I know it was because she knew that I was sexually acting out. One day she told me that people who play with themselves are evil. She told me about this old widow lady she used to know that stuck vegitables up inside herself to get off. I remember hetting real sick after she told me that. After that, every time I acted out I would blame the fights mom and dad had on myself. I knew God was punishing me for acting out. I
* Sometimes, I think mom was jealous of me because I remember her when I was at a very young age telling me about her and dad's sex life. She would tell me that dad had a big one. She would tell me about her teddies and how they really turned dad on. One time, she told me that dad loved her breast and that he said one of them was chocolate and the other was strawberry.
* I was so scared when mom and dad fought. Dad would always look at me with a look of utter hate in his eyes. They didn't seem to care if my sister and I saw them fighting. Dad put big holes in the wall with his fist. Mom would throw things at dad and tell him he was a worthless bum.

This is so hard. It hurts so bad. I feel so alone, disgusting, and dirty. I don't know if I can do this.

I am struggling because there is no place to go.
Pain grips my heart and seems all I know.
It pulses like madness through my mind.
It makes my eyes reality blind.

* Mom used to take me and my little sister to these weird churches. They would say it was the end days and that we better be prepared to have our heads cut off for God. One time this yukky old man who was supposed to be a preacher hugged me and wouldn't let go. I was twelve and very fully developed. He groped me until I finally pushed away. I didn't tell mom. She wouldn't have listened anyway. She kept saying, "Old Brother so in so she is a good preacher isn't he.

I can't believe I'm writing all this stuff. I've never even said some of these things to anyone, much less writing them.

I don't know how this could be good. I hurt so bad. But its like I have flu or something and just can't quit puking it out. My head is dizzy and I feel weak.

I don't know what kind of game my body is playing with me. I disgusted at my body. I hate it!!!!!!! I have to go get my som at school. I have to pull out of this and put a smile on my face. I want to cut so bad I can't stand it! But Damn it! I'm not going to do it!!!!! I want to see the blood and feel the sting! But I'm not going to do it!!!

The only way that you are going to heal is to get this out... Sweety, you may want to slow down a bit... Catch your breath. You are my best friend and i want you to heal, but please slow down.......

:kiss:
Wayne at work.

Thank you Wayne. I think you are right. If I can quit this puking for awhile, may be I can catch my breath

I am feeling a little better tonight. I've become acquainted with some folks with similar struggles to my own. I don't feel quite so alone. I'm going to take 2 vals tonight. Bottle says one three times daily as needed. I hardly ever take them but I have to get some sleep. I'm feeling real numb right now.
Later
Marilyn

I went to Tulsa Oklahoma with my Husband, Step Son, and Brother-in-law today. I just went along to be out of the house. It was really boring because they went to a gun store. As we were on our way back home to Missouri I started having some bad immages in my head. Even though Wayne is a caring and supportive husband, I feel so alone when these things happen. I don't know if I can write anymore about the things that happened to me. All I feel is intense pain, shame, and I do not know what to do about the anger but self distructive things. This is not because I'm stupid! All I feel like doing now is saying self debasing things. But I'm going to do just the opposite damn it!!!!!!
* I'm a loving mother
* I take good care of my 7 year old son and show love and dedication to the health and well being of all of my children, (my 7 year old son, My 16 & 19 year old daughters, my 24 year old step son and my 27 year old step daughter who doesn't live at home.
* Although I struggle daily with depression, low self worth, and physical illness due to my PTSD, I am a good and faithful wife to my husband.


I do not know what else to say. I am not feeling well physically or emotionally. I laugh. I smile. act friendly just like a person without PTSD. But inside, I want to cry many times a day and I have to force myself to leave the house and go out in public. Inside I feel like there is a cancer eating away at my insides or like I am mortally wounded and am internally bleeding.

... He slammed me down on the bed by grabbing the back of my neck with one hand and a hand full of my hair with the other hand. I just layed there. He grabbed some nylon rope and secured my hands and feet tying them to the bed posts with my face downward towards the matress. He lifted my head up by grabbing my hair. He stuck a long neck bottle of Jack Daniels down my throat and forced me to swallow the whiskey by holding my nose. He took the plastic rod off of one of the window blinds. He beat my back with it until I could see blood running off of my back and onto the bed...

...When he left me for another woman, I began sleeping with whoever I deemed attractive enough to spark my interest. They were all boring!!!!! All I wanted was for him to come back to me. I felt like a used discarted old shoe. He would intermetently come to spend the night when my daughters were away. He would get rough with me, be forceful, and would rape me in every way possible as I allowed him to do so with tears streaming down my face. After a while he didn't even use himself to rape me put foreign objects that were painful and demeaning to me.

No one knows me in those quiet hours,
When I feel unclean and my joy sours