I am pretty calm now. This is good progress for me in that I was just working on my time line of trauma in my private journal. I saw my psychiatrist yesterday. He is a very nice man. He took time to listen to some of the flash backs and memories that were bothering me. It seems less of a big deal today. He put me back on one of my old meds. I am on alot of meds but if they can help me be able to work on my issues, I guess that's just OK.
I'm now on: Paxil 40mg
Wellbutrin 150mg
Concerta 36mg x 2
Abilify 5mg
Clonazepam 1mg as needed to help me sleep.

It is nice to feel better and feel as though I have some control of my emotions. I am so much like a roller coaster emotionally.

Something came to me about the anger, the rage, and the hate. It is about my daddy. The whole time he was alive our home was filled with violent anger. There were so many holes in our walls. Momma would put masking tape over them and paint over the tape. Daddy always threatened to kill himself. He always yelled out that he knew he was no good. Momma was very mean. She would agree with him. They fought almost every day. My sister and I always felt like it was our fault. I remember thinking God was punishing me for sexually acting out.
My daddy also fought with my brothers or visa versa. Big loud fist fights with lots of blood. I always had to clean up the blood.
My dad had detox seizures. He would shake, turn blue, scratch himself until he bled, then roll around on the ground yelling. Mom made fun of him and said he was just faking mental illness to get out of working because he was lazy. It did not look fake to me. One time momma called the police. They left my daddy there blue and shaking on the ground and told my mom to just leave him there and he'd sober up soon enough. He must have felt so alone and so scared. I was not afraid of him but momma would not let me go to him. She told me to stay in the house and leave the old fool alone. Momma was so mean.

My brother David (my approx. age 6 years)... I see a window. I feel a hand gripping my mouth tightly. I am in a corner near the top of a stair case in front of a window. The curtain was pulled back on the window, I see light and the grass below. I am leaning on a stool and my dress is up and my panties are down. I hear a soft whisper in my ear, "I'm so sorry for this little sis. Its not your fault. Please do not scream or I will have to hurt you." I hear that in my head, "I will have to hurt you". There was a naked lady picture on the floor. My brother hurt me. He made my private area bleed. I thought my brother loved me. He used to carry me to school on his shoulders. He tried to be a good big brother. He is in prison now and has been for 14 years. He murdered someone by stabbing them with a knife in the throat. I spoke with him in prison a few years back. He said, "can you ever forgive me little sis for what I did? I didn't even know what he was talking about. I had completely blocked the memory of the incident. I thought he was talking about the murder. It was confusing when he said, "Do not let what I did cause you to be depressed. Feel good about yourself and please try to forgive me." I know now what he was talking about. It was the rape. My sister never forgot her rape. He had raped both of us as quickly as possible. Only a momentary penitration. He was in a satanist cult and one of his fellow cult members threatened to use either my sister or me as a virgin sacrifice. They were crazy as shit house rats and on LSD, LUDES, HEROINE... I only came to the knowledge of this as my other brother and my little sister colaborated the story flooding and plagueing my brain in the form of nightmares and sensory flashbacks.

It feels very painful to write this particular trauma, because I really love my brother David. I wanted so much better for him in life. I do not care about that time long ago when he hurt me. Though it causes me great emotional pain, I love him anyway. Deep inside him was a good man. He got so messed up on drugs and the cult culture, it ruined his whole life. That hurts almost as bad as what he did to me. I am powerless to change that. All I can do is feel the pain and accept reality and love him anyway regardless of how much his situation hurts me. He is dying in prison. He has cancer and is not expected to live much longer. He will die in prison. I want to go see him but I am afraid it will hurt too bad. If he had known about dad and Cecil, he would have killed them. He always told me to keep my dress down and be a good little girl. he told me I was smart and bright as the sunshine. Remembering the good in him hurts so bad. I miss him. I love my bubby Eddie but he is so superficial in his relationship with me. I can not talk about anything with him or show any deep emotions. He pushes me away when I do. David was my hero. My tall handsome night in shining armor. I remember thinking I wanted to marry him when I grew up. But I never told anybody. When mom would slap me in the face or spank me with a switch, I would go to him and he would let me cry on his shoulder. He would hold me and I felt so safe. Until he hurt me. One day he gave me a kiss on the cheek and said, "Good bye little sis". I never saw him after that. He went to California where he sold drugs. When he came back he was a completely different person. He was vulgar and filthy and said inappropriate sexual things to me. I do not remember how old I was when he returned, but I was in my teens. He went to church one day and gave his heart to God. He tried so hard to stay clean. I was so proud of him. Then he did it. In 1991, he had gone back to drinking. He killed a man by stabbing him in the neck with a knife. My heart was torn in two. I will never forget that day. It was may 13, 1991. My mother's birthday. We were all in very deep grief as I am sure the family of the man he killed was too. We all felt both grief and shame at the same time. It was horrible.

Crying out.
Hate the images in my head.
Hate my body.
I can not ignore it.
My brain wants chaos.
They killed me and my body wants life.
So I see blood from my body and it feels good.
Then I see it is only a piece of meat, muscle, tissue, bone.
Big deal.
So What.
There is anger somewhere that I must not let go.
It is a cancer that eats at my soul.
Will the good part of me die like my innocense?
Will I decide to go too far?

Why must I always be foolish and say what is inside me?
My inner being is naked and venerable.
I want so bad to believe.
I want so bad to trust.
So much more to be said.
There are only details and no connection.
I feel, I see, I hear, I even smell but there is no connection.
The connection died and I see denial.
That is why I hate me.
My brain is playing sick and twisted games with me.
I am tired, so tired.

I got a tatoo in red ink on my upper abdomen. It says,

"The Image of God"

Perhaps seeing it will remind me, the body I harm was created in the image of God. I did this yesterday to take action against my own urges to self harm (cut). A close friend of mine that knows I have a problem with this adiction said, "Its not good Marilyn. Its like you are treating yourself like a piece of meat." Her words made me think. The tatoo is beautiful! I think it will help.

I woke up this morning having horrible flashbacks. They were more of a physical nature in that I kept feeling my dad's hands on me. But then it got visual and I saw his face. All I could see was his face staring at me. My hubby said my eyes were open and they were red. He kept touching me gently and talking to me to wake me up. I thought he was daddy. I just started breathing real fast and my heart was pounding. I just knew it was him then somehow I came out of it. I do not feel anything but hurt deep inside right now. I think these are haunting me because someone else recenly that I tried to trust hurt me very deeply. I had just got to a place where I thought it was safe to tell what was inside me and I was violated, insulted, put down, and wounded. I do not know why it was and is so important for someone male other then my dear sweet hubby to listen to the yuk in my life and not freak and either avoid me or hurt me in some way. I do not think it will ever happen. It must be a shame I carry. I don't know. I just know that it hurts so bad right now. My mind does not want to let go of the insults. I am fighting negative self talk and the insults have only made it worse. I feel like I have been fed some kind of poison and he is watching me suffer in pain and just moking me. It feels like he has hate inside him and he wants to direct that hate towad me and damage me worse so that I will suffer inside. I wanted so bad to trust and for the shame to go away. I have to go. All I can do is try to redirect myself to those who love me. They must love me for some reason. My hubby and my kids tell me and show me daily they love me. There must be something to love. That is what I must tell myself.

I am doing alot better. I think sometimes the worse side of me comes out in my trauma journal. I tend to write the most negative stuff so that I can later go back when I'm not so emotional and process things in a more reasonable way. Someone told me recently that my way of doing things is all wrong and that love does not cure anything, but I disagree. If one is absent of self love and love for others there is no reason to heal. Why heal if everything is either apathy or hate. A really good book I read regularly defines love as (patient, kind, without envy, without boasting, without pride, without rudeness, not self seeking, not easily angered, keeping no record of wrongs, not delighting in evil, but rejoicing in truth, always protecting, always hoping, and always perserving, and never failing). I think love sounds pretty healing. Love is what I cling to when all else seems to be chaos. Love brings me hope. Its not mystic or abstract its just plain simple love.

These past couple of weeks have been very difficult for me because I have had to face some really bad trauma that occured when I was a child. It involved my father. I will never know what really happened, nor do I need to know but in my memory he was either trying to drown me to death and someone rescued me or he was trying to frighten the bageba's out of me making me think he was going to kill me by sticking my head beneath the bath water and holding it there. All I remember after that is waking up on my bed in my PJ's thinking my brother was an angel.

My husband has really helped me through this because he has been there when my flash backs occured. Even though there was a couple of times I was thrshing about so much I smacked him he patiently waited me through it trying to bring me back to reality. I am hoping since this memory has come to the forefront of my mind that it will no longer parade itself as reality during my sleep. I don't really have any negative feelings for my father as its hard to really have any feelings for someone who is dead. I forgive him but I do not excuse his behavior as it was deplorable and evil.
Marilyn

I enjoyed reading your post. Reminds me of something I've heard said, over the years in my personal 12 step fellowship: This being: "God, Time and AA". I recognize I could just as easily think and put into action, "Love, Time and PTSD Healing & Coping," to help remind and motivate myself to think positive, maintain hopefulness, and personally attend to and get busy with what's important in life, be it what it may.

Marilyn, if you don't mind me asking, what's the name of the book you read. I'd like to own it. I'd say read it but that would come in time. Truth is I'd like to read it, but I can't always have what I'd like right away. You probably understand, you're a parent too. Not a serious complaint here either. Overall, I'm very glad I'm a parent. And, on that note: Marilyn, I hope you have yourself a Happy's Mother's Day.

We hope to be going to the zoo.

I'd agree, yes Love is most definately healing.

Marilyn, I'm glad you feel a lot better! And, I do hope you don't mind me posting to your trauma diary.

You take care, and really you're doing great. I would've quoted more of your post bc really I thought it was quite postive and as I said enjoyed it, but not necessary.

Also, what you said about your trauma, gave me the creeps.

I know that saying I'm so sorry this ever happened to you doesn't count for much of anything, given the full reality of trauma and PTSD, but I am truly sorry, Marilyn. Speechless now.

(((Love & Hugs, Marilyn))) ......sincerely, goingonhope

Thank You Hope,

You feel free to post here anytime my friend.

LOVE & HUGS,
Marilyn S.