Hello all.  I hope you are all having a grand Christmas.  I did.  I am … yet now I am struggling.  

See Ron’s sister has been with us for two weeks and she had been a great grand help.  She took over ever duty I had and helped me get back to the blog.   Plus she gave Ron a connection to his childhood and his youth.  Plus she gave me all her husband’s clothing and we are the same size.  So for Christmas I got a complete new wardrobe of shorts / pants / shirts / and dress stuff.   I was down to only two ill-fitting pair of old pants that hung off me.  So it was a timeless gift.  But her help was not done.

She brought big sister energy so while I have tried hard to get Ron to throw out old construction debris that he had piled in several rooms I never could get him to do so.  She did.  Then she got him to organize and pack away a lot of stuff he was just piling up.  I was so happy we got back to a having two rooms that we had lost to just Ron piling things in them.   But it gets even better.

She and Ron spent the time looking at places here that might fit her needs so she could be here in the winters instead of being up north and she has found what she wanted, she put in an offer and the people accepted.  So she will come stay with us on and off this winter and then next year be here full-time.  I love it.

Please understand I never had a caring sibling.  I met my wonderful “brother” Randy well into adulthood and Randy is everything an abused kid like myself could every hope for in a supportive sibling.  He has been the brother I always wanted … yet never had until a decade ago.  But Ron had a tight knit large family who cares for each other and really they do care and love each other.   Watching him and Diane this last two weeks has been amazing.  In a way I am jealous because no matter how hard they try to include me … they are in a world of their own past.  Having Ron’s sister as a part of our lives is going to be grand.  

So the adventure begins again.  She has already given me ideas on ways she can help if I wish.   But I love her ideas.  

Now the ugly and bad.  Off and on I have been struggling and doing everything to hide it from them.   Several times at night both the cat and Ron tried to wake me as I started to yell or scream out.  My nightmares have gotten much worse.  During the day while they were in the house I would come into my office, shut the door, and breakdown sobbing in tears.  I am trying so hard to hold it all together but the memories hurt so bad, they are there always now pushing at the walls I try to build up in my mind.  It used to be they were contained but now they are simply there, looking over the wall, shouting at me constantly trying to get my attention.  

I did what so many advised and I admitted to my primary care I needed help.  He was the first primary care I ever told of my abuse and he impressed me with how he handled the news and me after I told him.  But h           e sent me to their therapist on staff.  But she is a very young woman and she is a behavior therapist and I need a trauma therapist.  She is all about how to feel good, such as walk more each day, but I need someone to tell and get help for being a 3-year-old tied to the stair banisters with my arms strung up while I could barely touch the floor.  I was nude and sometimes I was blindfolded.  Either way I was hit or raped in this position.  I need someone to tell these memories to.  And it won’t be this 20 year old woman who wants me to think of how I can make my days happier by thinking of sunshine.  

So I have tried to do the best I can.  Tomorrow Ron will take his sister to the airport and on the way home get the supplies for me to make a tomato spaghetti meal for Randy.  Ron will make the meat balls while I make the sauce.   I will pretend I am OK and everything is great.  Yet inside I will hear the screams of a beaten raped little boy, I will ignore it while I make good for everyone around.    And when I lay my head down on the pillow after trying so hard to stop from doing so … the nightmares will come, the memories, the feelings, the screams trying so hard to burst out.  And I will control what I can, the cat or Ron will wake me if the noise from my mouth gets too loud.  A night of hopefully a bit of rest.   Only to wake early in the morning and get up to do it all again.   My life, over and over again.  Thank you for reading / listening.  It is hard to describe what my life is, but maybe this is the best example.  

Ron just went to bed.  He tried hard to get me to go with him.   He knows how hard it is for me and how it is getting harder.  The saddest point is he tries to help but doesn’t know how.  When I scream out at night he asks if he can hold me knowing that to just grab me or pull me to him will induce more trauma.  Having written this with the memories fresh in my mind I am scared to join him in the bedroom.  Yet I must.  How to finish this post?  I never wanted people to feel sorry for me, my life is what it is and what I have tried to make it.  Yet the idea of going to bed scares me.  

Yes I have a way to end this post.  As a kid from 8 to my teen years I would leave the local school and bike to the local town library in our little cow town.  I would stay there in safety instead of going home to be abused.   The local librarians must have known of my abuse because one of them gave me a book that described what abused boys could do to get help.  But like me they were afraid of the big bruiser gorilla that lived in my home that I had to return to.  So while I was not allowed to have books at home because that was not what a real boy did, they kept my books behind their desk for me … and every day I was beaten and every night I was raped.  But the next day I could go to that town library after school and lose my sore body in the books.  But no adult ever became my hero.  That was little Scotties life.  Good night.   Best wishes and hugs.