The inside of my head is starting to reverberate with my internal screams again.

Damn it!   Dogs that love gravy, thank you for the peace you gave.   I am not sure how many hours I got without the screams, without the feelings, but it must have been 5 or more hours.   I did so many things, I researched our voting ballot for tomorrow, I helped make supper, cleaned it all up and put the dishes in the dishwasher, helped James with his washing, folded and put away my left-over laundry, basically I kept busy.  But the background sound of the abuse is starting to build up in the back of my mind.  The muffled screams I wanted to make.     I am starting to get concerned and wanting to shut it down before it rises to a level I have to deal with it.  Again

People don’t understand what my life is like, why I insist on constant media input.   This is why.   I don’t want to hear my own cries of pain in my memories.  I want to drive the memories back, to keep them at bay, hidden and the worst of them locked in a chest wrapped in chains then thrown into the deepest part of the ocean.  Most of the time I succeed in that.   Most of the time I am so busy with other issues, other demands that it is only a distant cry at the edge of my hearing.   I can live with it like that.

But sometimes like recently and happening far more often, those cries get louder and activated by what I read or hear they burst the chains and come raging at me, threatening me, trying to take me over and then dragging me down into the abyss that is the memories of the past.    

While writing this my apple watch went off with a high heart rate alert, when I looked at it was 133 beats a minute.   That is well down from what it was earlier, but still spiking too high.   James set up our phones for him to be notified when our health readings get too high / low so he keeps asking me if I am OK.   What do I tell him.   Ya sure I say, it must be an error of the watch I tell him.  I took my watch off.    How can I tell him the memories playing on a loop in my head?    He doesn’t need that in his head, and even though he knows I was abused in my childhood what would he think hearing all this?   Then I remember a decade ago when we were watching TV and something in a movie we were watching and a part came up about child sexual abuse came on the screen and he leaped off the couch and slammed the TV off later telling me he forgot that was in there.  So he knows, but I don’t want him to know the details.  I mean really who would right?

I have to go to bed, everything is done except replying to more comments, there is no more news I want to read.   Yet I don’t want to go, and don’t feel tired.   I know why.  I am scared of what will happen if I sleep.  The same thing that happened last night when I started thrashing around and first murmuring then letting out loud cries, Ron then woke me up.   It is not worth going to bed to live that anymore.  The doctors tell me they can give me medications but those don’t stop the memories, they simply stop me reacting to them.   Anyway, good night, until I go to bed I am going to answer comments.    Many warm hugs for all.   I hope I can sleep

13 thoughts on “The inside of my head is starting to reverberate with my internal screams again.

    1. Hello and thank you Muttpupdad. I am torn, getting these things out of me, to write out the childhood horrors helps me deal. I don’t understand why but two different therapist have insisted it would. For a long time I hated anyone to know what happened and how I lived in my childhood. I felt and sometimes still do that it would make people see me differently or as less than. I couldn’t stop it, I could only plead, but in my mind I have been conditioned to think that because it happened to me I am some how at fault or less than “a man”.

      What you say is the truth. In another 6 months or so I will be 60 years old. Never thought I would get here and maybe it is wonderful I did. I want the rest of my life to be as enjoyable as possible and the past to be as far from my mind as it can be pushed to.

      Muttpupdad one of the things that is starting to bother me is when I write these posts that help me it may be hurting others. I have no way to gauge that or to fix it. Thanks again for the comment. Hugs


    1. Hello Jill. Thank you. In a way yes, nothing will change the past, but in another way my writing about it and the acknowledgement by others of what happened to me without making me feel like I am somehow damaged is really helpful. It is hard to describe but for decades after it stopped I did not acknowledge it and even when asked denied it. Look as a 20s / 30s year old I was very sensitive to being seen as “manly” and to admit how often I had been used (violated) was something I was not going to do. I never even started to open up to Ron until 2007. Thankfully for me Ron already had figured it out and let me unravel it at my own time frame. I thank you, but today as I have been thinking of what I have shared and I am worried I am hurting others. I have no idea how many others may have suffered abuse or rape as I did and I never want to further anyone’s harm.

      Why do boys think it is their fault? That they are no long a male / guy if any one knows? Do girls also think that? I don’t know.

      Again never fear to leave your thoughts and it does help me a lot that you are supportive. I just wish I had these resources and you wonderful people as a teen. Hugs

      Liked by 1 person

      1. And I wish I could have known you and somehow helped you as a teen, dear Scottie. But, I think you’ve grown into a wonderful, caring, compassionate person despite your horrible childhood. You and Ron are a wonderful couple and I hope someday to meet you both in person and give you both big huge HUGS!!!

        Liked by 1 person

    1. Hello Michael. I wish I could. This is my life, my history and sorry but it stresses me all the time. Yes as you say I can avoid reading about this or that molestation case , what ever religion or priest / youth pastor is now being charged. Yes I can do that. But Michael what I can not do and struggle with every day is drown out the muffled cries I made as being raped, the screams I made as a belt was slamming into my body, the times my adoptive father picked my nude body up and slammed his large hand into my already sore area of my body. I can not tell you the number of wooden spoons were broken on my little body but I can tell you I was told it was my fault and I would have to do chores to replace them.

      I know you mean well and that I should avoid things trigger me. But I lived that life so long, all my childhood, that it never leaves the back of my mind, it is always right there ready to come screaming into what I am doing no matter what it is. I have to be always aware of it lurking and to fight to keep it back. It is weird and I understand how people who have not been repeatedly abused don’t understand but in life there is a never ending trigger. You and I can see a man holding a preteen / teen in front of them with their hands on their chest. It is common right? No problem. But it triggers memories in me of when I was raped either after or before by the guy now posing holding my chest / body tight to him so I can feel his groin. In the before I can feel his hardon and know what is coming, in the later I know / feel all that happened but in both pictures I must pretend to be happy. That is the mind fuck. I must pretend to be happy, no matter if it is before or after and every damn time I see a picture of a boy with a boy being help by a man I have to not only relive my own experiences but wonder if that boy is also being abuse. Every picture of a man and boy causes that. Yes I know it is not likely. Not all boys are abused. But it sets off the alarm bells in my mind,

      Sorry Michael. You did not deserve that. Dealing with all this has left me very raw. You have my apologies for going off that way when you were just trying to help. Hugs


  1. I can’t “like” this, Scottie. But know that I read it and empathize with all that you are experiencing. I hope you were able to sleep … and that today will be a better day. ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Hello Nan. Thank you. I am not sleeping. Things are so chaotic for me right now. Right now I am walking a very fine line between sharing which might help me by expressing my feelings of past, yet also there is a part of me that still feels as I did as teen / young adult who was extremely embarrassed by what was done to me and worried, very worried, I would be seen as less than a man. When asked if I was being abused I denied it vigorously, adamantly, No way I am a true boy! Nan I am so tired right now. I keep looking at my wrists with the faint scars from when I self harmed. Thankfully back then I did not know that I should cut along the veins of the wrist instead of long cuts and I never went deep enough to cut nerves or muscles. But really I never wanted to kill my self the cutting was to just distract or feel. It is something I still can not describe. I was asked if I wanted to kill my self and I answered no, and that was the truth then and now.

      I did it again. I am sorry Nan, you did not deserve this. I pushed my feelings off in to the response I wanted to make to you. I would delete it and start again but we are good enough internet friends that maybe you want to know how raw I am. How everything I read and react to is being colored by.

      We had another call from FEMA. The other day we had a couple people come to the door and talk to us. Today we got a call and FEMA is going to give us more time and a line of credit for repairs. As the floors need to be torn up and replaced (after the home is put back on the foundation blocks) they are willing to provide money for the three of us to relocate but we have to find the place. The bad place is Ron is shutting down, he is starting to not be able to accept or deal with the current reality. I am so conflicted and trying to deal with my own issues, and James is trying to help as best he can but …

      It will all work out, the world is still not a republican hellscape and we may still be able to run to … Shit we are fucked! Hugs


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