We Learned To Run

We Learned To Run

When I cannot hold on to what is real

and the memories trapped inside of my body scream

rising to the surface 

 struggling to stay present 

It hurts 

and I want to run...

We learned to run. 

 Wavering between the intense ache of my broken heart

anger at my inability to tough it out 

and finally succumbing to complete numbness 

I want to apologize to her for all of the times I give up

We 

          are  

                   both 

                                weary

2:00 A. M.

It is 2:00 A.M., and I just woke up from a nightmare that was triggering, and now I can't sleep. I feel like I need to talk to someone, and I feel so alone even though my husband is only footsteps away. I don't want to be a bother or a burden to anyone. Why do I find it so hard to reach out when I'm hurting and afraid. It brings me right back to the sexual abuse. It happened, and I felt too afraid to tell. There is always this fear, and it has settled deep inside of me. I know why I had the dream. I watched something on television that brought back a memory. There was the blood. I see it. I remembered it like I was right back in that bedroom after those boys left. I didn't understand. I was so ashamed and scared that I had done something wrong. All I wanted was to be clean. To wash everything away. I'm having a hard time staying grounded right now. I need someone to help me. I want to call my therapist but it is so late. I thought that writing would help, and maybe I won't be able to post this. I'm probably not even making sense, but none of this will ever make sense in my head. Why me, I ask? Why do I have to feel this? It hurts so much, and what if I can never get through this? Does every bit of pain, and every tear shed mean that I'm healing? All that I can do is hope.

Avoidance?

My therapy and nutritionist sessions were hard this week, and I'm feeling discouraged. Everyone feels like I'm using avoidance types of behaviors, and that in many ways, I'm fooling myself into believing I'm fine, when really I'm not fine. It is frustrating for others to believe that you have a problem, when you can't see the problems for yourself. I feel like I'm trying to eat, but I'm still basically only having one meal a day. My therapist is not happy with my progress when it comes to food. I told her that I've eaten lunch instead of having Boost twice this week, but that doesn't seem good enough. I know that I'm not eating breakfast, and that my calories are still too low, but I'm afraid of adding more food. My weight has basically stayed the same for awhile now. My nutritionist says that my body is used to running in starvation mode, and that it will adjust to added calories. I'm not very trusting of that. I'm trying to change things, but people need to understand that I also need to go at my own pace. I have so many feelings that are bubbling just below the surface, and I know that it is only a matter of time before they break free. I have to feel like I have some sort of control over them.

Everyone also feels that my drinking is still a problem. I guess that I don't feel like it is a problem if I want to go numb every once in a while. It doesn't affect my day to day life. It doesn't affect my job. I don't even drink on a weekly basis. I promised my husband that I wouldn't drink alone or hide alcohol, and I will keep that promise, but I'm not going to stop drinking all together. If that sounds like denial, than so be it. I'm tired of feeling like I'm a project that needs to be fixed. I need some space, and for everyone to back off. I feel like I'm okay. I'm not depressed or suicidal. I'm taking my medication like I should be. Yeah, I avoid my feelings at times, but it is painful stuff that I'm dealing with. Every day I wake up, and it isn't long before the ugliness hits me right in the gut. I want it all to disappear, along with myself at times. Is it so wrong to want that? I know that it will never go away, and that I can't change the past, but so what if I don't want to look it in the face every single waking moment!

Anyway...I just needed to vent a bit. I'm already feeling better. If you have made it this far, then thanks for reading:) Hope everyone has a great weekend!

Strength

Ahhh, it's Friday! Although it was a short work week for me, it still felt long and slow. I'm dragging, and it doesn't help that I've been out of my anti-depressant all week. The pharmacy is having trouble getting it or something. I'm definitely feeling more down, which is to be expected, but I hate that I really am so dependent upon the medication. I know that the reality is that I will probably be on them all of my life, but it is irksome(that word makes me smile.) Anyway, the pharmacy called today, and my prescription is in, so I should be back to my oh, so happy self, very soon.

My therapy session on Wednesday was intense. We talked about how painful journaling has been, and we talked about how to deal with new memories. My way of dealing with any new memory has been to go back to the beginning and try to make some sort of sense out of what happened to me, but obviously that is counter productive because it will never make sense. It was wrong, and no matter what new information I have, it will always be wrong. I have to remember that I was not at fault, and that I only did what I thought I could do at the time to survive. My therapist tells me all of the time how strong I am, and I have a difficult time acknowledging those words. I don't feel strong now, but when I look back at the little girl that I was, I can see that she had so much strength and courage. I want to be able to own those words and apply them to the woman I am now. Most of the time, I feel like I'm a failure because of the ways in which I cope with the pain. The eating disorder, the suicide attempt, the alcohol abuse, the depression...those things make me feel like a failure. All that I can continue to do is to work on those things, and hopefully one day soon, I will find and feel the power of my own strength.

Surfacing

Surfacing

It always ends in the water
Sinking into the comforting
weightlessness
Drowning the shame
that boils beneath the
mirrored stillness
I see you
I know you
hiding in the depths
of your own deafening silence
A secret baptism
A whispered prayer
An unfinished memory
begging to return
to the beginning

Angela Minard 2009©

Unworthy

Unworthy

For more than half of a day
I felt unfamiliar elation
followed by
The helpless type of anger
that leads to blank staring
at inanimate objects
until they blur into a sort of
cohesiveness that feels safe.

The chaos of children,

trying to be perfect,

the distractions of a mind

riddled with thoughts
of starving, money, tumors,
and autism. Fear of my own
incompetence.

In my mind
I'm still a child
longing...

Forced to see and do
what no child should ever
witness

Fearing for my life

Innocence lost

Why do I feel so unworthy of peace?

There are arms and voices
that comfort my pulsing veins
and moment by moment
through the fear
I see the hope
that could be my home.

Angela Minard 2009©

Body Memories And Flashbacks

Yesterday was not a good day. Work was horrible. The student that I'm working with decided to target me with all of his aggression, and he threw a huge screaming tantrum that literally lasted for two hours, and during this time I was bit. I also had therapy last night, it was an emotional session, and I ended up drinking. We were talking about my fears about Dave, but then I brought up the subject of intercourse, and how that part of making love is so hard for me. It is physically painful and almost always triggers rape memories and flashbacks. Later that night, I came home, and I hadn't eaten all day. I ate some meatballs, and then felt so overwhelmingly horrible and disgusted with myself that I ended up purging, which I haven't done in quite awhile. The drinking was not a good idea at all, and I know this, but I continue to make bad choices when it comes to that. I stayed upstairs in my room, and in my mind, I couldn't stop having flashing memories of the rape. I called my therapist, because I felt like I was physically disconnecting from my body. The body memories are so painful and terrifying, and I ended up dissociating while I was on the phone with her. I don't remember anything after that until I came out of it and found myself sitting in the bathtub fully clothed. Dave was sitting with me, and he helped me to change clothes. I slept fitfully last night, and now I'm just exhausted at work today. I feel like I'm on shaky ground. I also have to give a presentation at work. Of all the days to have to do that! I talked with my therapist this morning, and she suggested that I make an appointment with another therapist in her group who deals more with sexual trauma and dissociation, so I did call him, and hopefully he can get me in soon. I hate this. I think things are improving, and that I'm healing from the past, and then an episode like this happens, and I just feel so bad about myself. I'm tired.

Fighting For Now

I just had a pretty good sized bowl of chili for dinner. It was all that I could manage to allow myself for today, but that is okay. I sat down with my family, and Dave is home, so it was all good, and I enjoyed it.
I don't really have much to say. I felt like writing here though, and maybe I'm hoping to sort through some thoughts that are swirling about. I had a rough night last night, and wasn't even able to write about it earlier. I had horrible nightmares all night, and finally went ahead and got up around 4:30 a.m. They were dreams about the rape, and feeling like I couldn't fight back. I could feel their hands everywhere, but could not move a muscle. It was horrifying. When I got up, I immediately got into the bathtub, which is a dangerous thing for me to do because I tend to dissociate when I do that, but I just had to get the feel of them off of me. Dave wasn't home yet, and I was feeling shaky, so I called my step dad and my mom, and tried to connect with everyone that I love. I feel like I really took care of myself today, doing everything healthy that I could do to distract myself from the pain. I took the boys to see Where The Wild Things Are, and that was also a sweet distraction. I am proud of myself for staying in the here and now, for not dissociating, and not numbing out with alcohol. I did use the eating disorder, I suppose, but that is par for the course lately, and I did manage to eat dinner, so all in all, it was a good day. I may not have been able to fight back in my dreams, but I'm fighting now.

Doesn't Play Well With Others

What a crazy work week! I'm really ready for things to settle down in our classroom. We have one student who is really aggressive towards staff and other students. He really needs a different placement, but that probably won't happen anytime soon. He makes the classroom environment very stressful. Last year he worked in a room by himself, and now I can see why. He bites himself, and bangs his head on the walls. He has already put a hole in the wall from one of his tantrums. I worry not only that he is going to hurt himself, but that he will hurt someone else. It is a very unsafe situation. He throws a tantrum when presented with work tasks, and has a problem with transitioning from one activity to the next. He isn't used to being in a classroom setting, so it is difficult for him to participate in group activities. The entire day feels like a battle, and I'm shell shocked by the time it is over. So now the weekend is here, and I'm relaxing and blogging with a glass of wine.

I had my therapy session on Wednesday, and we opened the letter from my dad. He didn't even mention the fact that he had found out that I had been raped. He said that he didn't feel like I was being fair to him. That just pisses me off! When was he ever fair to me and my brother? He never once takes ownership of any of the mistakes that he has made. He finds so many other places to lay the blame. Nothing is ever his fault. Well, it is his fault that I was raped that night. If he had been protecting me the way that a father should have, it never would have happened, but I was only in his way. He said that this would be the last time that he would contact me, and I hope that is true. I'm done, and I don't feel guilty anymore for not letting him back into my life. He is still only sorry for himself, not even caring about the ways in which his actions have hurt others. I feel a sense of relief, mixed with sadness and disappointment. I had hoped for more, but now I can let go and move on. I'm glad that we read the letter. I would have always wondered if I was doing the right thing by cutting him out of my life. Now I know that at this point, I am doing the right thing for me.

No wonder I needed a glass of wine tonight!

The Dark Side Of A Butterfly

I'm having a rough day.

Every time I get my period, it reminds me of the rape, and cleaning up the blood afterwards. It was the first time that I had ever bled like that, and I realize now, that I must have been in shock. I know that many rape victims shower or bathe after the attack, but I remember feeling too terrified to stay in the apartment, so I put on a bathing suit and t-shirt, carried the bloody sheets out to the dumpster, and then I got into the apartment swimming pool and swam back and forth across the length of the pool until I was exhausted. I certainly didn't understand anything that had happened to me. Only that I must have done something horribly wrong, and that no one could ever know about it. Oh, this is still so hard. When will I learn not to take it out on myself.

Silence Is A Prison

Today is my last day of summer vacation, and then tomorrow I go back to work. I greatly enjoyed the break, but I suppose it is time to step back into the real world of jobs and schedules. I am an Autism Instructional Assistant, so I work in my local school district with children with autism, pre-school through grade 12. Tomorrow I will find out where my assignments are to start out the school year. I generally move around to different classrooms and grade levels, depending on where the need is. I'm looking forward to meeting the kids that I will be working with, but the first few days back are meetings, so I won't actually be with kids until Friday. It is going to be difficult to get back into my early morning routine. I walk with my neighbor from 5:00-6:00 a.m., and then out of the house by 7:00. I have been walking with my neighbor still this summer, but not until later in the morning, and then I leisurely have coffee and putz around.

No more of that!

I feel like I have done so much healing this summer, and although I'm still struggling with the eating disorder and poor body image, I feel that I'm making progress. I have come a long way in terms of dealing with the rape. I'm not triggered as easily, I tend to handle it better when I am triggered, and I'm not having as many flashbacks or nightmares. It feels good to list those things here, because it does help me to see that I am in fact, HEALING. It is strange, because I remember more details than ever before about the rape, but those memories don't come with so much terror and panic anymore. My therapist said that the memories would come when I was ready for them, and that is extremely empowering. I'm no longer being held hostage by my past. I used to think that keeping it all bottled up inside gave me the control, but I realize that the silence is what kept me a prisoner. I'm beginning to see the blue sky beyond those steel bars.

Girl On A Bike

Girl On A Bike

I watched a girl on her bike
perhaps ten or eleven
and then she stopped,
smiled, and waved at me
Just like that
no hesitation
so simple
and uncomplicated
The tears
came coursing
unaware

I could have never
been like that then
I was like a starling
fleeing for my life
A fleeting glance
made my heart take flight
Fear in the flutter
Grief is like that
It comes from a girl on her bike

Angela Minard 2009©

Waiting To Tell

Waiting To Tell

How surreal and fragile
the world seemed to be.
Pulsing with silence
A simple inhalation
too much to take.
Choking on secrets
Stealing each breath

Suffocation held my hand
through those dark summer nights
of waiting to tell.
I would stand by the side of your bed
until you could feel my presence
willing your eyes to open
afraid of your irritation.
"Why did you wait so long
until it got this bad," you would say.
always waiting to tell
because it was so bad
I was sorry to wake you
my chest sinking into itself
with each rasping gulp of air.
The ride in the car always lulled me
and eyes soft,
your annoyance would disappear
almost touching the longing
of already missing you.

The glaring fluorescent lights
of the hospital would make
the loneliness of my bedroom
seem distant and my screaming
thoughts only a whisper.
A tightened fist and the needle
would sink until the room was
swaddled in safety
leaving only a pool of blackness
behind me.

Angela Minard 2009©

Free To Fly

The pavement dissolves into a ribbon of blue, reflecting the sky, and my mind wanders as I stare at the highway flowing behind me. Memories now, and that is all that they are. Not flashbacks where there is no escape. Just memories. I am hypnotized by the road trip, and there is a recurrent phrase that resounds inside of my mind. "I don't want to hate." I feel those words deep inside of my soul, and I roll them around over my tongue. I'm almost afraid to say them aloud. I tell myself that it doesn't mean denial. Denial for so many years. Silence. Afraid to tell anyone that I was raped. Shame. Blaming the child that I was. Now there is the letting go, and that is what I ponder. Am I ready to let it go? I must be close, because I feel it slowly breaking away. "I don't want to hate." No, but I do. I hate. I have anger and hate. I know that I will have to let go of the anger and hate to truly be free. I think about how it will feel to let it go, and I know that when I'm ready, it will feel like flying, and more than anything, I want to fly.

The Patient

Yesterdays therapy session was really hard. The memories are hard to say out loud...and it hurt so bad. I cried all the way out of the office, all the way to my nutritionist session, all the way through the session, and then all the way home. I talked to my therapist this morning, and she said it sounds like I am grieving, and she is right. I have lost innocence to grieve over.

Therapy and the whole relationship with my therapist is hard for me right now. It is a confusing relationship, and everytime that I think of it being over, I end up in tears. In fact it seems that I end up in tears about most everything lately. Although I know that I still have more work to do, I still really struggle with the whole patient-therapist relationship. She is like a second mother to me. She was the one that I e-mailed when I tried to kill myself. She is the one that I tell all of my secrets to. I trust her with everything that I am. She says that she will never go away, but how can that be true? Someday she will go away, or I will go away, and maybe I am also grieving over that fact. She says that there will come a time when I will be ready to leave, and I just have to trust and believe in that. Anyway...I wrote this poem last night after our session.

The Patient

I walk
outside of your office
and then I fall apart
Pushing the down button
and shivering
in the air conditioned hallway
Sometimes I hate you
for what...
for making me feel, for listening
to all of my secrets
told in the light of day
for the moments
when you've touched my hand
made me ask
and then held me close
Wondering what I am to you
A thought at the end of your day
a check
but that is not the truth
as you flip through your list
of clients
These thoughts would hurt
your feelings
I think
but we are not allowed
no...I
am not allowed
to feel everything
that you make me feel
When do I know
that I can do this without
you.
I can no longer send you these words
I've lost the privilege...
Broken the trust...
because I knew that you would save me
if you could
And now here I am
still reaching out
again.

Angela Minard 2009©

Jessieh's Face

Jessieh's Face

I see the picture of you
sitting on the bus, and
it is strange...
I've never met you,
and yet...
I know that face
as well as I know my own.
The distant look in your eyes
and only we know where we are
and where we have been.
The straight line of a mouth
chin close to quivering
and the freckles that dance
along the bridge of your nose.
Only we know too well
how to distance ourselves
from the pain
to find another self to be
like slipping into a new dress
a new soul.
I can hear your voice.
I can feel your hand in mine
when all of us are afraid.
When we run from the core
of who we are.
Don't run too far.

Angela Minard 2009©

A Broken Arm And Other Happenings

My youngest son, Roman, broke his arm this week at basketball practice. He fell on it, so his season has ended prematurely:(. He doesn't seem too down about it though, so that is good. He is a happy-go-lucky kid, and makes me smile daily. His sense of humor is contagious, and he definitely has a zest for living, which also means that he plays hard. This is his second broken bone in less than two years! Having four boys means that life around here is never dull.
This week seemed to fly by, which is a good thing. I'm so ready for this school year to be over, so that I can get to summer. I'm really looking forward to the break. Work went fairly well this week though. I have seen so much improvement in the student that I work with in the morning, and that always makes me feel good. I love the kids, but the adults...not so much.
I had good therapy sessions this week, and we have decided to focus mainly on my body image, which is beyond horrible. We talked through and dissected the Letter To My Body that I wrote, and discussed how the rape affected how I view my body and the betrayal that I felt. It has so much to do with blaming myself, and also the body memories that I have. I often feel physically suffocated by my own body, just as I felt during the rape. It is no wonder that I suffered from severe asthma attacks for weeks after the rape. My assignment for this week is to focus on the positive things that my body does for me, especially focusing on the movements of my body when I exercise. I've been walking in the mornings, but I'm also going to start trying to do some yoga in the evenings to help with getting more in touch with my body. I think that the deep breathing that is incorporated with yoga will also help me to feel more connected to my body.

Well, I think that is all for now. I hope that everyone is having a wonderful weekend.

And Still She Cannot Breathe

This week has been so hard. I started out the week with a nightmare about my rape that then triggered some flashbacks. I hadn't had any flashbacks for awhile, so I was hoping that they were gone for good, but no such luck. It is horrible to be forced to relive such painful memories, especially when I work so hard to put it all behind me. Why is it so difficult to stay in the present? Is it because I haven't worked through all of the emotions that I need to work through? Yesterday, I had flashbacks off and on all day, and after every one, I would cry, and then I would feel so angry. Angry at the tears, and angry at what brought on the tears. Angry that I'm still dealing with this after so many years, and frustrated that I'm not better yet. I become so impatient with myself and my progress. I was even mad at my medication. Why wasn't it working? I was feeling great the week before, and now this...I couldn't understand why the healing was always so up and down.

I did have a good therapy session, and was able to actually talk about some details of the rape without totally losing my mind. That is definitely progress, and I feel like the more that I can talk it through with my therapist, the less power it will hold over me. I want so much to take back my power.

Held down and gagged
she fights to scream
Hoping this is only a dream
and still
she cannot breathe
and still
she cannot breathe

All In Parts and Pieces

The nightmares come when I least expect them and I'm fading in and out of my own head. It seems that I will never get away from it and them. They haunt me in my dreams and all that I want to do right now is scream and yell at the top of my lungs that I hate, I hate, I hate them, but the house is silent, so all that I can do is scream from the bottom of my soul. I'm trying to stay here in the present, but I can feel myself floating away, and my fingers on these keys are what is connecting me to myself. I know that I'm not making any sense, but this is what dissociating feels like. If I were to lay in bed right now in the quiet darkness I feel that I would drift into the nothingness and I may never find my way back, or at least that is the fear... the fear that I may never want to come back.

And I'm alone now
Me and all I stood for
We're wandering now
All in parts and pieces
swim lonely
find your own way out
So far away
it's growing colder
without your love
Why can't you feel me
calling your name
Can't break the silence
It's breaking me
All my fears turn to rage
And I'm alone now
We're wandering now
All in parts and pieces
swim lonely
Find your own way out

A Family Therapy Session

I'm bored and grumpy right now. I wanted to watch a movie tonight, but Dave rented some World War 2 movie, which doesn't interest me in the least. I just bought a book called Still Alice by Lisa Genova, which is about a woman with early onset Alzheimers disease, so I guess I will try to start reading that tonight. The problem is that lately I have zero concentration and so much on my mind that my thoughts tends to wander when I read. It really sucks because I used to love to get lost inside of a book.

Tomorrow we have a family therapy session, and I'm really nervous about it. The kids don't totally understand what happened the night of my suicide attempt, so we are going to answer any questions that they have. I'm going to be honest and tell them that I took an overdose of pills. My therapist said to explain to them that some bad things happened to me when I was younger and that I was hurting and in a lot of pain, and that I just wanted that pain to go away. I want to let them know that I love them so much, and I never wanted to leave them. I want them to understand that it had nothing to do with the amount of love that I have for them. At the time, I wasn't thinking clearly and all that I wanted was to stop hurting. I know that they will have many questions, and I want to be prepared for what they have to ask me. I hope that I will have clear answers that they will understand. More than anything, I hope that they can forgive me. I'm going to see my therapist an hour before our family session, so hopefully that will help to prepare me. I'm scared, apprehensive, ashamed and feeling very raw and vulnerable. I want to turn off my mind and stop thinking for awhile. I haven't been sleeping very well the past few night, and my emotions are so close to the surface. I feel like I could cry at the drop of a hat. I thought that I was going to cry when Dave came home and told me what movie he had rented. That is just so ridiculous and frustrating because the tears have nothing what so ever to do with a damn movie! I'm so glad that I have this blog. It really helps me so much to write out some of what is going on in my head. So,anyway...wish me luck tomorrow. I think that I will just be intensly relieved when it is over. Then I think that I can finally move past this horrible mistake that I have made.