I ATE THE RABBIT!

I’ve been dealing with this one for awhile.  At first I didn’t want to believe it, then I didn’t want to think about it, then I just didn’t know how to write about it. Of all the memories/flashbacks this has been the hardest for me to deal with because it goes against everything I believe in. Coming to terms with it was like coming to terms with pure evil. I finally have gotten to the place where I can say this was not my fault.  I had no control. I was brainwashed into doing these things. Now I need to write about it and let it go or at least get it out.

**** Trigger Warning – Contains animal sacrifice, blood, and rituals. ****

This all started with me having a reacquiring dream. I’m writing this as the dreams happened for me. I’d dream a little bit, then wake at the same spot for a while. Then something would loosen and I dream more, only to stop at a spot, and only dream up to there for a few nights/weeks, before it would loosen again and I’d get more. The deeper into the dream I got the less time/nights before the jump to the next part.

The dream always starts the same way – floating through some woods being drawn to a light ahead. At first I’d wake up here, scared but not sure why.

Then the dream jumped forward – I’m being compelled forward toward the light even though everything inside me wants to run away from the light not toward it. I feel hands coming up out of the ground and grabbing at my feet as I go by, trying to stop me.

Again I wake up. More nights of just dreaming that before the dream advances again – The hands can’t stop me even though they try and then the trees part. I’m in a clearing, there is a fire (the light that was beaconing me), and people covered in hooded capes. They are gathered around a little girl. She is wearing nothing and she is me. Now I wake in terror at least for the first few times. Then I wake with questions, so many questions,- Is this dream real? Why am I in the wood? Where are my clothes? And who are the hooded people?

I don’t have long a this point, just a few nights before the dream advances again – One of the hooded figures comes forward with a rabbit. IMG_0198The rabbit squirms in its hands. Then I hear the sickening crack and it goes limp.

Again I awake. At this point weeks have gone by of dreaming this dream, the more I have it the more real it feels. Man, do I wish it didn’t because the next bit of the dream is the worst – The rabbit is then shoved at the little girl that is me, and I’m told to eat it. I refuse it at first. It’s raw, full of blood and it still has a face and fur, there’s no way I’m eating it. The figure speaks then and I know it’s my grandfather even though I can’t see his face. He says “if I won’t eat the rabbit, they’ll go get my sister and do to her what they did to the rabbit.” Then I’m inside the little girl who is me’s head and I can hear her thoughts – I don’t want to eat the bunny. I’m not suppose to eat blood, it’s against one of the rules in the Bible. I don’t understand. If I eat the bunny God will hate me for eating blood, it I don’t eat the bunny God will hate me for getting my sister killed. What do I do? In the end, I choose the bunny as it seems like the lesser of two evils. The blood is the first thing I notice – it covers her/me. I can smell its irony smell and taste it’s coppery taste. Then it’s like the girl that is me loses all the human in her and is taken over by a blood lust that can only be called animal in its nature. And she goes a little feral on the rabbit until there is nothing left but blood and bones. Then there is pain and darkness. And I’m awake and trying to breath.

The first round of this dream started months ago, and after talking through it with my therapist I almost came to believe that it was just a bad dream nothing more. And for a while it seem to settle into the background. But after being triggered in the craft store by Halloween stuff this dream is back with a vengeance – start to finish no building up to it like last time. Every time I wake up feeling like I’m covered in blood. I wake up smelling the iron and tasting the copper that is blood. And I know deep down in my soul, no matter how much I wish it didn’t, this dream happened. It is real and I ATE THE RABBIT!

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The Little Golden Books

Most of my childhood is a mystery to me, I know that it is there somewhere. But it is like coming to a locked door and knowing what you seek is just beyond it. The issue is that you don’t have the key and no matter how hard you knock there is no one there to open it for you. One of the things I do remember from childhood are the cardboard covers, shiny gold spines and colorful pictures of The Little Golden Books. I still own (Kit loves to have them read to her, or to just look at the pictures) a whole collection of them. They are a prized possession – The Saggy, Baggy Elephant, The Gingerbread Man, The Little Red Hen and so on. My favorite was always The Poky Little Puppy.The Poky Little Puppy

So you can imagine my surprise when I was checking out the new self-help books at the Library to come across the book “Everything I Need to Know I Learned From a Little Golden Book”. I, of course, immediately grabbed a copy. While it doesn’t help with the Big Issues, it does remind you of some things that we have probably forgotten about since childhood like: frolicking, singing, daydreaming and believing in the impossible just because it makes us happy. So if you get a moment grab a copy and remember a time when all you wanted was to know how the Poky Little Puppy was going to get back home once the hole was filled in or if the Gingerbread Man would get away or get eaten.

It’s Been A While

I known it’s been a while since I posted, I don’t know what to say except that it’s been bad for me. 03476cb8 With the non stop relatives visiting (which means talking about our childhood – half of which I don’t remember, or don’t want to) plus the year anniversary of the death of my adopted grandmother, all I’ve wanted was some peace. Saying that almost got me thrown back into the crazy house. Instead of my therapist hearing the plead for help in the form of something I could do to get me through, she heard “I was tired and was suicidal”. Never once did the words I wanted to kill myself, or I was thinking of ending it come out of my mouth. But I still felt so unsafe that I ended up walking out of therapy, which was a good thing because they called the police on me. If I had stuck around I would have ended up back in the psych ward, I’m still having nightmares from the last time I was there, so it’s not something I plan on doing again EVER!

This pushed me to finally getting a new therapist, something that I have been putting off because of money issues. But I now have one that specializes in dissociative disorders. Our first session was more helpful then the last year’s worth have been. I’m sitting here now trying to fill out the paperwork she gave, and I having a hard time with it though. The general info name, b-day, etc. is easy, even the check this box if you feel this way, but then I get to the last page and it like being back at school, essay questions.

The 5 most traumatic events in my life, my strengths (thanks to Sophia) I was able to fill this one out, because I don’t feel like I have any strengths, my weakness – the page isn’t long enough.

That’s all for now. I try to write more soon. I’m off to one of what feels like a trillion doctor’s appt. I have in the next two weeks.

Just Fun

It’s my favorite time of year. The holidays are FINALLY over, so I’m not being triggered every 5 seconds. But more importantly this is the time of year that my father’s out -of-state family comes down from the freezing cold to enjoy some sun and some fishing. I usually get myself through the holidays just on the thought that this time is coming. That soon I will be sitting in a boat (not soaking up rays since I burn) in the middle of the ocean with family that has nothing to do with my abuse. With family that has always been supportive of me, and that I can feel loved around. I will be doing one of the things I love the most – I’ll be out-fishing all the guys, my dad included.  I know that fishing is mostly a guy’s thing but since I finagled my way into going on this trip in my teens, I have always been the best fisher. And it’s always been a blast.

I still remember that first trip like it was yesterday. I knew that my dad’s family where all coming and I wanted to see them so bad, but my parents, my mom especially only wanted my dad to go. I keep trying to talk them into it for weeks. When the day finally came, I was up at 5am (something I don’t do unless I haven’t slept the night before); I put my bag in the car and my butt in the passenger seat and refused to get out. Needless to say I got to go. I think  it was partly  matter of my dad liking my guts in standing up for what I wanted,  and partly him knowing that by leaving me behind I would have to deal with my mom and her dissociation. That trip was like paradise. I was around normal adults, who could disagree and still put it aside and have fun. I think that is what this trip has always been for me, a look at the normal, a glance at the something better that I could have, maybe sometime in the future. I’m not saying that my dad’s family is perfect because they are far from it; I’m just saying that at the end of the day, not matter what’s happened, they still love each other, and you can feel that.

This trip always reminds me of my grandpa Abraham, since it is his family that will be gathering. My oldest uncle is a lot like him in many ways, he’s gruff, he teases, but he also makes you feel loved. So I get to see parts of my grandpa in the children that he’s left behind. In a small way it makes me miss him and wish that he could be with us, as I know he would love the time we spend together.  So grandpa, wherever you are, know that I’m thinking of you and wishing that you could be here with us.

I just wanted to let everyone know that I’ll be gone this week, having some fun and building some good memories. Oh, yeah and catching all the fish!

Searching for That Elusive Happy Childhood Memory

Last week I was watching a TV show that’s plot had a pregnant woman who had been in a car accident in the first month of her pregnancy and had brain damage that made it impossible for her to retain new memories. All through the show the husband keep reminding the wife of the moment that they meet for the first time as a way to calm her down. As I was watching this, I keep thinking I don’t have that. I don’t that one memory that I prize so much that it will have a calming effect. Hell, I don’t have a memory that isn’t warped by something horrible happening. Then I got to thinking if I had an accident like that it would be horrible all I have is the memories of abuse.

So I have started a quest for that most precious thing in an abused child’s life … the elusive happy moments. I received the gift of Photoshop after my sister’s wedding and I have decided that my first project will be to scan, repair and download all our photo albums to DVD. I’m hoping in this trip down memory lane I can get in touch with my child. Right now I feel like I have lost that inner child. But that is a subject for another post. (Upcoming)

I’m not sure if this is going to bring more pain, some enlightenment or what but I feel compelled to do this. I’ll keep you posted on how it’s going.