*There will be NO GRAPHIC DESCRIPTIONS OR DISCUSSIONS OF ABUSE. Just how I feel about having these things dug up out of my murky dark swamp-like brain, into the light. I will mention the types of abuse, in words only, I will not describe any experience or event. This post may be triggering though it’s written in a clinical sense.
So. Part of the reason I am here, in hospital, is to deal with some (well it WAS just ‘some’ but as time has gone on, more are surfacing) of the formerly repressed memories of my childhood trauma.
(It was child abuse from my ‘father’ who is hence forth forever and always known as either ‘Assface’ or ‘Shitface’. The abuse included the following: physical, emotional, sexual abuse/assault and extreme control. Everything was covert, nothing was ever overt enough for someone to report/realise what was happening. My siblings are in different states of acknowledgement about what happened. Some completely deny it, some acknowledge but will not speak of it even if directly asked for the purposes of helping anyone/thing, for example me in my recovery. I have varying amounts of contact and relationships with my siblings. The ones that deny it outright I have very little if anything to do with. I am the only child of my family who has sought ongoing treatment for the trauma. It has been discovered that my trauma experiences began at a very early age and I was potentially a common/main target for a lot of what went on. This is not easy for me to discuss, with anyone, even my own family. Do not suggest that to ‘heal’ I should ‘forgive’ my abuser. Also do not use the ‘but you’re family/blood is thicker than water’ line, you do not know what happened and are not my therapist and so if you wish to support me in my recovery path, which involves dealing with this trauma, then please only do so in positive ways with kind words etc.)
I have seen many therapists and counsellors over the years. Some for the sole purpose of ‘trauma therapy’. The psychiatrist I am seeing at the moment is the first male therapist I have seen in a very long time, I do not see male doctors of any kind if I can avoid it. I have tried so many different styles of therapy, different ways to deal with this trauma. Even attempted to not deal with the trauma directly, but just the stuff that came up because of it (things like the self harm and the like), which did not work.
For a long time, most of my memories of this unpleasantness were repressed by my subconscious to protect me. Some of it I won’t ever remember due to my age at which it occurred.
I never wanted to remember anything. I never wanted to acknowledge any of it. I never wanted to know what happened. And I got my wish, for the most part. Until I was 21. I knew there was something there, but not anything more concrete, until: my first toe in the waters of ‘adulthood’ (aka ‘intimate relations’ – not ‘intercourse’, just silly stuff, kissing and such – this is really awkward as my family may read this!) triggered a ‘flesh memory’. And then I spiralled down a very dark hole it has taken years and years to even begin to reach the top again.
And then earlier this year, something happened, I don’t know what, it was just like a feather touched an already straining barricade, and that was just enough to break it and on came all these memories – some whole, some still fragmented, some from my eyes and some like I was looking down on myself from above.
More are resurfacing as time goes on. There is nothing that I can do to alleviate the pain caused by these memories, other than to speak about them. Wasn’t it Dumbeldore who once said ‘fear of the name encourages fear of the thing itself’? A fictional magician has more knowledge, kindness and care, than many therapists I’ve seen.
I have not written down the memories in any kind of journal or book. They are still in my head. And maybe one day I will be able to speak the words that are the most frightening, and not just in the clinical way I have in this post, maybe one day I will be able to tackle the biggest and scariest one of them all – I cannot speak the name. I could not even admit what it was until recently, even though I knew what it was for so long.
I cannot say more. I need to go do something with my hands to get out of my head. Thanks for listening anyway.