I am back, I think, but still shaky

How fast a day can change for me.   I was doing really good this morning. When I got up early, I did all the morning chores, fed cats inside and out, got the news programs set up, got something to eat.   Started replying to comments and was basically having a good day.  I figured I would have to stop in the afternoon to finish the laundry before Ron and James came home in a few days.   

But reality has a way of smacking me around sometimes.  After I watched the morning news I checked my news feeds, the web pages that when opened show me the lists or blocks of news I have not seen since I last opened the pages.   My dogs that love gravy, did the entire world go on an abuse kids kick while I was sleeping?  !!!!

Ok I know how to handle a few bad stories about kids being abused or raped.  I had my guards up.   So the first one I read was about a school in Connecticut, then a few stories later a story of a juvenile prison abusing kids that was written very explicitly.  I mean very step by step how the kids were abused.   I was still on my feet so to speak.   Then I read not one but two stories from England and …

Before I could get my breath, the vortex was here.  I struggled to get away and to find something else to fill my thoughts.   But I was taken to the time before I was in kindergarten, I was 3 and 4 and it would continue until we moved due to the charges of abuse against my adoptive parents.  My entire afternoon is gone.   I had so much I wanted to do.

Now that my mind is out of the vortex, but not yet secure, the howling winds and memories tearing at me are still there, I want to write this, they say it helps when I need to go back later.   I am not sure I agree but here it is.  

Should I change the color?  Everyone knows I write in blue because I like the color.   Ok yes I am stalling.   I just lost 4 or 6 hours of my life trapped in memories of my own abuse, I think I can be confused about what color to use.   Shit I do not think I can get through this.   

Ok when I was taken to live with the people I was to call mother and father, and their hell spawn brothers / sisters the house I first remember was on a U shaped street.   That was not the first house I was in, and I remember bits and pieces of the bus ride to them, but not enough to put much together.  

But I do remember that house and the fact I had to sleep in a hallway, I had no bed.  The girl next door who was older than me but I don’t remember her that well, would come over and ask if I could come over to her house to play.   I did not want to, but I never refused, but choices were not left to me away. 

I learned not to make a fuss but to just go with her to her place on the second floor of an apartment building.  The stairs seemed steep and gravity strong for little me to walk up.    Here her brother, who years later I learned was a Vietnam vet, was waiting to welcome me.   The girl that invited me to play with her then went somewhere else and I spent the visit with her brother.  

My memories this afternoon have been rough, I won’t sugar coat them for you.   But as much as I have cried and suffered today, I also won’t take you through the most graphic descriptions of my time in that appartement.  But I do need to gently and as vaguely as possible describe my time there to help you understand.  Hell sometimes I really want the things in my head to just go away, but the only way to do that is with death, and I am not ready for that yet.    

OK I have to deal with it … Trigger warning about child abuse, physical and sexual… 

Remember I was only three when I got there, and we did not move until what was the equivalent of government child services in that state charged my adoptive parents with abuse until I was finishing the 1st grade.  So maybe 6years old?  

OK I have delayed enough.   So she would take me by the hand, help me up the steps to their apartment and then basically hand me over to her brother.  I never felt apprehension about what was going to happen because he was always nice.   He treated me far better than I got treated at home.   Remember (maybe some don’t know) at this time I was being so badly abused in my home I had my hip dislocated and had to be taken to a doctor to have it reinserted back into the hip joint.  But only after weeks of me not being able to walk correctly.    Years later my doctors would attribute the bone troubles I have today to the abuse I suffered during childhood.    

Wow even though I decided to write this my mouth is still dry and I am struggling to do it.

So let’s not dwell too much on the actual sex in the sexual abuse as I think you all know what part of him went into what parts of me.  I really want to talk about my feelings, that is what is important.   But sadly to do that I have to add one more detail.   My memories always involve him using / setting up a wooden chair like a common kitchen chair in most homes including my own.  When Ron bought them from a thrift store and I went to help him get them I nearly freaked out.   He still doesn’t know.  

Sorry a bit graphic.  He was always gentle and nice with me, unlike what I got at home.  He would undress me and then after playing with me for a while he would put me up on the chair and … you don’t need to know any more … I wish I could say I am angry at him or that I hate him, but compared to the abuse / pain I was being inflicted to at home I would have done anything he asked.  And I did.  I doubt people can understand what went through the mind of a 4 / 5 year old having someone touch them nicely.  

He committed suicide, I remember people talking about it.  People said it was because he was a Vietnam veteran.  But no one thought to ask why his sister never came over to invite me to their home anymore.  I never understood it all.   But what I did know was while he was gentle the ones at home became more violent every day causing me to try to find more ways to hide.   

Dogs that love gravy I have written this last part four times already.  Look how can I have anger at someone who treaded me better than I was treated at home?   But at the same time it was sexual abuse.   I spent a lot of time today in the vortex.   I have laundry to fold / finish, and I have not eaten since yesterday.   I really just want to crawl into bed and make the world go away.   But I must do what I can do.   

Wow, I just realized that typing this out has my mind going other places freeing me from the threat of the vortex.    Hugs

5 thoughts on “I am back, I think, but still shaky

    1. Thank you Ali. I am doing better today. It took a couple days for me to get my emotions and thoughts straight. I wonder if many people can understand what happens to the mind and body when the vortex I talk about takes hold and you relive a lifetime of bad memories. Hugs

      Liked by 1 person

  1. Wow! I’m not sure what I should say. It was extremely courageous of you to open up like this. Thank you for feeling able to trust your readers. I do empathise, although in my case I had a really loving family. It was my peers at school and those a few years older often with the tacit approval of significant adults in their lives – parents, teachers, leaders etc. Later it was the “macho” young adults who enjoyed picking on a socially inept young adult. I’m autistic but didn’t discover that until I was sixty. I’m not sure I could have coped if it had started at such a young age as you were. Certainly the trust I had of whānau (extended family) was never betrayed, and for that I’m very grateful.

    I too have found writing about such experiences and sharing them to be quite cathartic.

    Liked by 3 people

    1. Hello Barry. You said everything wonderfully. Thank you. As you say it is scary to open up but also can be cathartic. It helps me to get the memories out, but it is also scary for me to have people know what has happened to me that way in my life. The thought is still in the back of my mind what will people think of me if they know I was used that way by adults. Will they blame me? Will they hate me? In my old blog I was even more open about the abuse in my childhood, the physical abuse along with the sexual abuse, and I have also detailed the rapes I experienced as a young adult in the military. The thing I must admit to myself is it was not my fault that others did that to me, and I shouldn’t feel weak or like I failed. I shouldn’t feel less a man, whatever that means.

      I am glad you can talk about your experiences being autistic. It helps those of us reading your experiences to understand the difficulties you had and how those kids / others around you acted. Also it shows we have more work to do to stop bullying. The young man we “adopted” and took care of as a kid was diagnosed on the spectrum and took medications. As an adult he took himself off medications, but he still has issues in daily life. He misreads social clues; he reacts incorrectly in social situations and even here at home. He cycles between manic and depressed. But we have learned over the years how to help him and understand what he was going through. We learned a lot reading stories of other people on the spectrum, we learned from the stories of people like yourself, and if we can in some small way help others to understand we will do so. I hope you and your family are still close and give each other help, support, and comfort as a loving family. I know it helps the young man we have in our life. For a few years he went out on his own and now that he is back home he is happier and more calm life. He is doing better. Best wishes. Scottie

      Liked by 1 person

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