Abuse: Memory is real

The following is an excerpt from the book I'm writing(untitled now save for the opening line title Microsoft gave it The Trees Were Singing) The Vatican in its wisdom allowed cardinal Law of Boston to read one of the Masses for the Pope. Cardinal Law is best known for simply moving priests who sexually abused children to new parishes instead of punishing them, thus exposing more innocents to their evil. To bestow such an honour on a man who was complicate in those horrendous crimes is equal in my mind to implicitly condoning his behavior. Shame on them. In this excerpt the character is reliving her first recollection of her abuse. As someone who suppressed my own memories of abuse for twenty years, mainly through drug and alcohol abuse, I have little truck with those people who claim that repressed memories are hokum. No one planted those memories in my mind, it wasn't until well after they started that I sought help, and then only to deal with trauma of remembering, not to figure out what was wrong with me. Anyway, here it is, an excerpt from "The Trees Were Singing" Chapter 2 No one was there, as there hadn't been so many times before, upon waking in the middle of the night. But now there was a nagging at the back of her head, a glimpse of a being. The darkness was heavy on her, and the shadows were too deep, but lighting the bedside lamp only created more places for fear to hide. Nooks and crannies created by objects negating light opened too many passage ways, entrances from which there was no hiding. Who was trying to break into her safety? She wrapped her arms around her knees under the sheet and blankets, debating whether or not to get up and turn on the overhead light. Flood the room with brightness and chase whatever it is back to where it belongs. Just what she used to do as a child when the horrors came on her. Too scared to call out for her parents in case something else would answer (they could have been turned into monsters for all she knew) she would brave the cold floor to wash the room in safety. In the nights that followed the fear kept on returning. Faceless it would stalk her sleep, teasing at the edge of conciseness, until it would spring upon her, sending her reeling out of sleep panic stricken. It became harder and harder to convince herself to sleep. Even the tranquilizer she managed to wheedle out of her doctor were not sufficient to keep it at bay. If anything they seemed give encouragement to the invasions. Instead of numbing her, they relaxed her defenses, providing more breeches in the already leaky fortifications. There came a point when the last reserves were spent, too tired to fight any more, she accepted defeat and let the fear in. It swelled into an immensity, a giant figure straddling the domain of her mind. She cowered at its feet, head bowed, staring at the shoes her nose almost touched. Tan suede loafers. "Daddy" a little girls voice said in her head. Well that's just a short bit, but I think it gives the idea of how it feels when things are coming apart. I still find I go through the same experience whenever a new incident is remembered, It starts with a general feeling of unease and builds to a fever pitch with its culmination being the memory. To those of you out there beginning this process, hang on, your worth it and remember it wasn't your fault. You were only a child and that person was supposed to be protecting you whoever he or she was. Find someone you can trust to help you, if the first person isn't right, find another, this is too important to leave in the hands of someone who makes you feel uncomfortable. Find a copy of A Courage To Heal and its sequel The Workbook. Guys just change the pronouns and it works.

The flashbacks are not real they are the past, and if you can find someone who does EMDR therapy and you respond to it, because not everyone does, use it. I have found it really helpful for processing my most recent bout of flashbacks. It's a long process, I started eleven years ago, and you'll find that your mind will give you the breaks you need so it never completely overwhelms you. Be good to yourself and remember these three simple things.

  • I'm Lovable.
  • I'm Loving
  • I'm Loved




Post a Comment

<< Home