Last Week, I Believed

Last week, I believed.  I thought the denial was gone.  I thought that it was time, Kairos time, for me to finally believe, to finally make peace with my past.  

This week, I stopped believing.  It just happened.  

Last week, I was a mess because I believed.  I had several episodes, abandoning my car and needing rescue.  

This week, I am fine because I am in denial again.  Fine, of course, does not mean great.

 It means stifled.

Smothered.

Muted.

Distant.

Angry. Angry at the wind, the hills, everyone.  I was furious at the wind for blowing me today when I was running, how it teamed up with the hill to sabatoge my run.  I laughed out loud at the absurdity of my anger. 

Last week, I cut off contact with the perpetrators.  

This week, we have conversed regularly.  

Last week,  I was terrified that they were going to send someone to kill me for “talking.”

This week, I am glad to be back in their graces. 

Last week, I was horrified at the evil of what really happened, yet relieved that I could finally acknowledge the truth.  

This week, I am lulled to sleep by the denial,  by the brainwashing and lies. 

Is there hope for some unity of mind, for an undivided heart?  Is there a way that my mind can call a cease-fire, and the war can end?  Or does everyone still find their role indispensable?  Maybe it is.  Maybe we need a week off here and there. 

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Starting to Believe

I have a story.  A powerful one.  One that is still in the writing process.  I have overcome much and will continue to move forward.  I don’t know why or how I have made it through, certainly not by my own strength.  I don’t know why God created me with this resiliency, but He did.  I don’t know why some people don’t survive what I have survived.  It doesn’t seem fair, but the minute we start expecting this life to be fair, we will be forever resentful.  Life’s not fair.  At all.

I should have split.  My therapist told me this today.  She said that my personality should have splintered, and with the breadth, severity, frequency, and duration of the abuse,  it would make more sense for me to be DID.  She said that there is something in me that kept me unified, and I am counting on that to get me through the trauma healing.  I am coming out of the trauma closet with myself.

I have been “dealing with” the trauma for years, but always with a pretense.  When I share bits and pieces of my pain, I never fail to qualify it with a caveat.  The caveat usually goes something like, “I think I am probably wrong,” or “These may have been just dreams,” or “I’m pretty sure that this was purely demonic, and no people were involved,” or “I am just a liar.”  The funny thing is that I am the only one who has held fast to these qualifications.  Everyone else believes my stories.  How am I the only one who shames and belittles and invalidates myself?

I am finished walking in denial.  The time has come, the perfect time, to face the TRUTH.  The journey of trauma healing starts over for me right now.  This time, I will believe my story.  I will not listen to the internalized messages of those who brainwashed me long ago.  I am not a liar.  I am not the evil one.  My experiences were and are real, and I am a legitimate human being.  One day, I will not hide behind an anonymous blog, but for now, I take the first step in finding my voice.  I was the victim of severe cult abuse, sexual abuse, physical abuse, and emotional brainwashing from within my immediate family and others.   I am now a survivor.  Where I had no voice, I now speak truth.   It will be messy, but I believe that freedom lies in the truth, and healing comes in the light.