I can't do a diary. Diary denotes linear or timeline things. I really dont have linear i realized today. Just a mass of white noise over a period of 15 years. Lots of stuff missing. Somethings that stand out, but I cant put dates to anything, just approximate age at the time of things that stand out.

I remember sensory things the most. The time I was three and was belted accross the face for talking too much... and then had the surgical tape put over my mouth. Crying to the point of my nose stopping up and then... that whole issue of not being able to breath. Had to sit on my hands in the corner... and not move. and not breath. the solution was to stop crying or suffocate. I stopped crying. Never really started again.

I remember being about 7ish? And at the dinner table... my brother (18 months older than me) sitting next to me.. on my left... and it being his turn... to get the shit beat out of him. I remember the blood splatter coming accross and hitting the side of my face. His blood. From a good three feet away. I remember the paralyzing horror of it. And wishing it was mine instead of his... because I knew my pain tolerance but, even tho he was older, I feared for him because I didn't know his.

I remember the feeling of having pieces of my teeth knocked into my mouth. And not having time to spit them out before the next blow came. I swallowed them, with a lot of blood. I think I was 9? 10? I remember being sad that I had to swallow them because if I hadn't, maybe the dentist could have put them back on. I remember how for days... weeks... afterward, the gritty, sandpapery feel of those broken/chipped teeth felt when they touched each other... rubbed against each other.

I remember the night my brother lost it and pulled a butcher knife on my dad. I was 11. I remember throwing myself between the two of them... not because I wanted to protect my dad... but because I didn't want my brother to go away to jail "forever".

I remember countless times of being told "I would kill you right now if I knew I wouldn't go to jail for it". I remember after a few years, I just wanted him to do so.

I remember my mother always left the room when things started going down. I hated her for that. If I had to endure it, she sure as shit should have had the stones to witness it.

I remember cutting my hair shorter and shorter and shorter because I got really ****ing tired of it being used as a grasping spot. I really had no choice but to join the punk movement in the end. Fer chrissakes, I had Sid Vicious's hair, I might as well join the party. I remember I have always found dark humor in shit. Still do now based on that last thought. It, plus music, probably saved my life.

I remember a few things, but not as much as I should all things considered. I figure that is my brain protecting me.

See? I cant do this diary stuff very well. Because nothing is really linear. It's just white noise. Just a lot of chaos.

I'm trying.

m1

Oh. I forgot. I remember deliberately pouring a boiling hot plate of spaghetti on my dad's feet one night when he was beating on my brother. I just wanted to make him stop and/or redirect to me.

It was great. It worked. I mean, it didn't even get redirected to me. He was worried about his burned feet. Brilliant that. I think I was 10ish. Already learning the art of domestic warfare.

Ohh M, a time line takes a long time. I've been working on mine for over a year! It's all fuzzy in my brain too! Your doing great and I love the title!

I also started out in point form (or just sentences, or a quick run down of lists) and I still keep adding points or changing what date it happened at. Most of mine are generals. Then I work on details after.

Don't get discouraged, your doing wonderful and you've remembered a lot!

bec

You're so damn sweet.

I'm in avoidance .... have been since I posted the above. I haven't logged in since then until now... I feel like a shit head... just, like "write and run". *sigh*

The windows and doors. That surfaced last week. I'm taking care of my Mum these days who is elderly.... so, I've worked my ASS off over the last couple of years to help her, fix her financial BS and get her to a safe place.

And boy howdy... there is fallout happening.

Because, I've done a lot more for her... getting her and keeping her in a safe place, than she ever did for me.

Self involved people. Man, she takes the cake. I love her, but Jesus.

Around and around I have tried to make excuses for her behavior, but it's really hard when you consider "the windows and the doors".

We lived in Southern California... temperate climate most of the time.... and I remember.... when I was about 10ish?

The windows and the doors.

As soon as the shit was starting to hit the fan my Dad would bellow "Theresa! Close the windows and the doors!"

And she would. She would scurry through 2,800 sq feet of house and close EVERY window and EVERY sliding glass door in "preparation" for what was coming next.

By the time I was 10 I was realizing the bullshit of what this was. Up until then, I was a lamb, and I assumed ALL kids were treated the way we were and ALL households were run this way... because... quite frankly, your parents are God, and they could never do any wrong, right?

The windows and the doors. At 10 I clued in to the fact that:

(a) Something is not right here if we are trying to hide "whats commin" from the neighbors.

(b) This crap is not a "rage of the moment, totally uncontrollable"... this has a certain amount of premediation to it; and

(c) Mom may not be dealing out the blows, but she is complicent. She is mother****ing aiding and abetting at this point.

There is nothing "right" or "normal" about this.

And I have no protection.... no champion.... no hope.

The windows and the ****ing doors. "Close 'em up and batton down the hatches.... I know what I am doing is wrong,. and I'm gonna do it anyway". And Mom basically said... "yes dear. whatever you say dear".

Bec, I am working on the timeline. My therapist is helping too... it could be a while. It could be the twelvth of never... but I'm gonna keep on keeping on....

m1

Having family members who don't participate in the abuse themselves, but are complicit with another's abuse--let it happen to you--is brutal. A terrible thing to really grasp and accept.

Keep working on your memories. Eventually they will stay in the past.