Nobody could say it better than this
I encourage you to read this post from Oniongirl called ‘We are Here’
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Songs to dance on an abusers grave to
The concept of dancing on your abusers’ grave seems to have some resonance for survivors I’ve talked to. Not all of us are of Scottish heritage, or even interested in learning the sword dance or Ghillie Callum used for this purpose. For those of you lucky enough to have dead abusers with graves ripe for
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Compost
The last few days I’ve been lonely. Being sick with a sore throat and earache, and kind of tired, I’ve not been working much and have had lots of time to myself. I find myself logging in to my blog and looking at the posts of other survivors, looking eagerly for comments on my own
One’s own nature
I made music last night with a guitarist I’m now working with. We worked on some covers and one original song from each of us. I brought my most successful song, a song with no survivor content, about euphemisms for the word vagina/vulva. I’ve performed it many times, and gotten a lot of approval for
Pap test, anyone?
Okay, so I went bravely forth today on my quest to find a doctor to do a pap test. Like many survivors, I haven’t had a gyne exam in several years, in my case, about 8. I haven’t had (or thankfully, needed) any other medical care during that time. I have recurrent yeast infections (or
Hidden Disabilities and Dentists
A childhood sexual abuse survivor goes to the dentist, and triumphs over fluoride treatments.
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Unhiding continued
So I didn’t go and make music this week. The sore throat won. However I did compile a bunch of lyrics and listen to a lot of songs that my musical colleague wants to do, and prepared a chart of an original song we’re going to work on together. I kept going. I also practiced
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Book Review and Divine Intervention
The other day I was picking up a book I’d requested at the library and absent mindedly browsing the books nearby, which happened to be about religion. I picked up about 8 books in all, including one called “Leaving the Saints: How I Lost the Mormons and Found My Faith” by Martha Beck. Here’s the
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In a cold and northern town
[A song in progress – celtic/folk story ballad feel. Key of D major] In a cold and northern town, the days are short and the nights are long A little girl grew up alone, surrounded by her family When she was five years old she didn’t know that daddy’s weren’t allowed She thought a monster’d
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Going on living
As part of my ongoing quest to stop Hiding I’m starting gradually to getting back into both doing things I’m passionate about and letting others witness me doing them. Tonight, I’ll be meeting to jam for the first time with a friend of a friend who plays the guitar. We’ve been discussing material and will
It begins
guess this is a small taste of what it will be like when I finally hear that my dad is finally dying. It is way too early in the morning. I am holding myself back from going into flashbacks, feeling/seeing my father running up the stairs behind me, looming viscerally behind me as a I
Maiden Revisited
I was at a women’s spirituality conference last weekend. It was my first time in awhile attending anything to do with my religion/spirituality in several years, so is another part of me stepping out. One of the workshops I took part in was on dreams and movement. I brought in my dream about the Goddess
Hiding
Yesterday in therapy we talked about me hiding. There is a sneaky part of me that is afraid of being seen, that shuts me down, but doesn’t tell me that it’s doing it, whenever it gets triggered. It reminds me of when I was learning not to dissociate. At first I wouldn’t realize I’d dissociated for
Letter #1 – My Mother is not a saint
Hi Mom, I’ve been thinking about how to mend my relationship with you. I thought I’d start by sending letters. What I thought is that, in 14 years where we had almost no contact, you really hadn’t gotten much chance to know who I’ve become. I was 19, then I was 35 and now 40,
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Model Mugging
I was in therapy this week unraveling a chain of reactions, as we survivors often have to do. My mom is anxious, and I have PTSD, which makes you anxious, and being around her, you guessed it, makes me anxious. So I try and pad her up, fix her, so she won’t be anxious (which
The Mother
Today I threw the switch to turn on a 9 kW photovoltaic (solar) power array. I have done something good in the world. I am a proud mother. Yesterday night I was thinking about my own mother, and what to do about the non-contact I’ve imposed on our relationship. [Spoiler: I like the end of this
Maiden
I’ve been following a blog called “Smelling God” – she’s a survivor who also seems to be taking a mystical approach to healing. It’s nice to see. Her god is probably not a regular dinner partner of any of mine, but that’s fine, with me anyhow. Today I bought a small pot of mini daffodils
A Signed Confession
Walking to a friend’s house today, it occurred to me what I want from my father before he dies. Even better, I think I can get it. I want a signed confession. I want him to sign a paper, witnessed and legal, that says that he sexually abused his daughter. Here’s why I think I
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