Still Alive

I finally remembered I have a site I was going to write on. It’s been so long. Where did I go?! I was eager to finally get some things off my chest, so it’s surprising to me how I posted one or two posts so long ago and disappeared until now.

The family I grew up with wasn’t the family I fooled myself into thinking of having had. I’ve created myself quite the battle inside.

Words can hurt. They’re not just words with no meaning or value. When I say value, I mean it can bring us satisfaction of knowing a particular word that is exactly what you mean to communicate. Your point is made with the words you know and you have a good chance of being understood and of having had communicated well which usually has positive feedback.

I’m afraid to communicate. I’m afraid to be heard. I’m afraid to listen.

There’s a part of my physical chest in the lower middle down close to the bottom of my ribs that always feels like a hole; like an opened wound that is a hole, and it’s exposed to the air and the dirt and the words and the feelings. (I think it’s rejection.)

I’m so uptight and can’t breathe well. I’m always tense and defensive, quick to react and keep hating how unsafe I feel. I feel like the truth inside my head is like a cancerous tumor that has always been there but has gotten bigger and bigger over the years I’ve existed, and the more I ignore it and not face it like a friggin super hero before it continues to disease everything it touches inside my mind, the sicker I feel and want to run again or die. I’ve lived with this my whole life. I’ve lived this ordeal inside my mind and can feel the effects of the truths in this hole inside my chest. And to anyone who is reading this, if you know this hole in the chest because you have one yourself, a place that feels the majority of your emotional pain and broken heart, I believe we can heal, even if a little bit. Some parts of us can already living with my husband and family because they are loving and love heals.

I found myself married to a wonderful loving husband and have four beautiful children after just being in the worst moment of my life. I had no idea where time went and what had happened. One minute I’m witnessing something traumatic and the next, I’m in a safe home, or at least the safest a house could ever be. That includes my husband, who obviously is a man, but it’s funny/odd/but kind of nice to me because I’ve always hated men. He is different. But all the love I get here in this home is making me feel terrible for not being the best I can be for all who deserve that because I don’t have the control so many people take for granted that allows them to have a steady flow of thoughts and minutes each waking day of their own lives. My time of awareness is greatly limited, and I suspect it’s because I have this hole in my chest and this emotional disease in my head that causes me to keep being unable to cope with the everyday life.

Every day life to me always includes voices inside. It always includes feelings of worthlessness the family I grew up with caused me to feel. It always includes forgetfulness. An amnesia. It always includes my guilt of not being strong or smart enough to get through each day without disappointing someone I love because of my pain and my reaction to it. I’m a trauma victim and I can’t cope. I dissociate to survive. That growing emotional mass of cancerous  history that is hurting everything it touches is causing me so much fear. I have lived in denial all my life and every now and then was surprised to hear that I had shared with people things I didn’t remember sharing. Even surprised at what was shared because it’s not something people like to talk about. It makes people squeamish and I suddenly find myself exposed to rejection.

There have only been maybe five things I’ve shared with anyone in my life that is private and personal, and one of those things is this post. Thank you for taking time to read it. I certainly hope nothing offensive was said or made anyone feel uncomfortable. I hope to share more because I’m feeling hopeless now and need a hand.

Until then, wishing you safety and love,




If it werent for the painkillers, the hot bath with epson salt, and the prayers from friends for my relief, I wouldnt be able to post once again, and ultimately end up rejecting this whole blog idea.

This headache hit hard last week. I was overwhelmed with my own feelings and thoughts  after experiencing a horrible flashback, and I was overwhelmed with the feelings, thoughts, and fears of some altars within our body. While I struggled with all of this, my attention was demanded, being a mother of four. I ended up putting all my issues aside and did what I had to do. When I could finally go to bed, I felt like bawling my eyes out because I was so exhausted trying to keep it together and appear happy and normal. I was tormented with mixed emotions I couldn’t control or ignore and it was interfering with my daily routine with the family. And worst of all, I was misunderstood. I had to keep hiding because everytime I would appear, it would be a bad time and I’d have to shut down pretty much immediately. No use at all trying to talk. There’s never ever a good time to talk about pain. 😦

My head hurts so much. Blogging right now isn’t a good idea, I know, but I’m tired of being the “thought” police in my head, controlling every thought that enters my head, protecting the young ones, quieting the older ones, only taking on just so much at a time while trying to sleep or dissociate completely. There’s one young altar, Sarah, who thinks we still live back in the house we grew up in. I have to keep telling her that we’re safe now and aren’t anywhere near those bad people in our family. Thank God we’re safe now.

I hope no one gives me any mean comments on my blog.  Hopefully there’ll be more understanding or encouragement than put-downs or name-calling.

Thanks for reading…

Migraine, Day 7

What a week! My head has been pounding relentlessly for over six days now… ever since that one night I just fell apart.

Might get into the specifics of that night in a future post, but for now, I’ll go on with my train of thought…(thank you for listening/reading………..feels good to get this off my chest).

I was trying hard not to cry. If I gave in and cried, I would surely have lost all control and all the work and energy I put into building those walls of protection would have been another waste.

That night, I needed “me” time. Quiet time. Space to think. To remember. To figure things out. I was broken and confused. I NEEDED someone (ANYONE!) to reach out and just give me a hug and say, “I’m so sorry you had a bad day. I’m sorry you feel ignored and unimportant. Your feelings DO matter and I wish you had been given the opportunity to talk. Instead, you were shut down….Because no one understands. Not unless they had a flashback. Not unless they’ve been hurt like you have…”

I tried to rest that night and tried not to think about anything and cry. My husband told me to just get my mind on other things and give myself a break. I laugh. Did he really just say that? Yes, and it’s not the first time. Does he think I choose to think about the pain? The pain! The hurt! I FEEL it. Ha! How the hell do I NOT think about it when I FEEL it and am being REMINDED of it constantly? Come on!

I’m not mad at him for suggesting such a thing. I’m angry at myself for not being able to just take a day and rest and not think about anything! To laugh, to sing, to relax and enjoy my time with my family and to bless them without any interruptions of bad memories, triggers, or headaches. 😦  

I wish I were superwoman. Earlier, I had thought I get enough pressure from myself and everyone else inside that I don’t need anyone extra “encouraging” me to just forget about me and my problems and focus on something or someone else for a change. Now I feel guilty for thinking such a thing. Why am I so horrible?

I wish I could be different. In fact, I try so hard everyday to act normal and forget everything about me, but then I get smacked in the face with a nightmarish memory playback I’ve never fucking asked for. 😦

I had a headache. I was out of energy. Out of hope. Life continued to demand from me, even when there was nothing left to give. I was out.
Wish I’d been held that night. I felt so exhausted and vulnerable. My head was pounding. Children were crying. Teens were showing bad attitudes. What a nightmare. I keep re-experiencing being molested and raped by a friend of my fathers. My safe husband is laying next to me desiring love and attention. I’m torn but the decision had already been made without me and without giving me time to prepare for what was needed/expected/desired, only because he reached out to me in the first place. Why do I feel like I have no choice? He always gives me a choice. Deep, deep down there’s this nagging, disgusting gut feeling that this is what is expected of me by men and it’s all i’m worth. Let me tell you, my husband loves me so much and has never once said anything like that to me. All he ever does is compliment me and build me up. He motivates me, encourages me, and loves me with everything he’s got. What goes on in my mind and deep within my soul is the result of years of pain, abuse, and betrayal. Lies.This migraine is awful. I’ve been working on this post for two days and the light on the laptop is killing my eyes. I’m so sick of being stuck in bed with my thoughts and others’. Some of my altars bother me with things they want to talk about but I’ve got a friggin headache and am in no mood to learn more $hit about our family. :(I’m so tired of pain. Emotional and physical. It fucking hurts. I’m so exhausted. When do I get a break? When will MY voice be heard? Where could I possibly go from here? Sigh. I’m so sad. :(Why is everyone afraid I’m going to say something? Some have shared WAY more than I ever would, so why do they keep pushing me away? Here’s a journal entry by one of my altars: “I wish I had a genie so I could have three wishes come true. I want to live in a new home with a new family, a new doll of my own, and lots of games. I don’t like living here because these people are crazy. You can’t trust them. I’m always scared and never ready. He scares me. He punches things a lot and he yells. He never touched me but he touched some of my sisters. I hate him. We all do. He is so mean. He always does whatever he wants and never listens to me. He bruises me a lot because he’s strong. I’m so fragile. He laughs at my tears.” Forget about him? Oh. Okay. Sure…Headache again today. I wonder why.I’m so sorry if none of this makes any sense to you readers. 😦  I’m just laying it all out there, trying to figure out what is so wrong with me and if things could ever change.”My head is not a football for you.” (Sinead O’Conner) keeps running through my head. Chao,Lisa (sisterstogether)

Rough morning

My stomach has sharp pains. Im nauceous. Had a long dragged out episode this morning. My husband apparently spoke with some of my altars. I dont remember what he said, but it’s pribably because I’m still not feeling well. The head and left eye are achy and im dizzy. Had one of those non-epileptic seizures which ihavent had in awhile. Hate those. It is scary as hell and i always have a need for a mother afterwards.

I remember one time i had a seizure and when i awoke in the hospital, i had four stitches just below the eyebrow and cried out for a mommyinside. A woman who was sitting by my hospital bed waznt comforting because she kept staring at me and looking at me weird. I was thankful not to be left alone with the doctor though, because I hate doctors. They’re disgusting.  ~Miriam