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Palpable Fear In a Known Place…

November 30, 2007

The fear was palpable. The sound suddenly stopped coming in through my ears. I didn’t hear my heart beat but felt the cadence of it through the movement of the covers. There was only a high pitched ringing in my ears and the sense that I was no longer alone in my room. The shadow from the wall was moving slowly toward me. I couldn’t take my eyes away only I wasn’t looking either. Each movement brought no sound. Only a strategically placed new shadow took it’s place. I was terrified. I was 36 I am 36 and this fear was real.

I am lying alone in a room that I occupied for 16 years before leaving the first time. I was alone then as I am now. I didn’t tell anyone because I didn’t have anything to tell them. I could easily discuss the m*lestations that took place at the hands of T, T and C (edit: 02/13/2008 – names have been changed to initials pursuant to Guideline 1 of my blogging).  I know what they did to me. I know how they played with my head and with my body. I just don’t know why it started. I just don’t know why they believed they had the right and why I let them. Seriously, I am a fighter. I always have been. I was a bully in school and a rock thrower and a protector of those that wouldn’t or couldn’t protect themselves so why did this fighter allow all this to even start?

There is one incident I recall from childhood. It is a story of family time and since my immediate family was and still is just three, me, my mom and my dad, it makes me wonder. I don’t have any real memories of anything happening, except the one I am about to share. The time line doesn’t fit. Really, it doesn’t fit. How much of being three do you remember? I don’t remember any of it. I don’t know that one of the T’s was the first person to touch me inappropriately. I do know that one of the T’s was the first to teach me about m*sturbation. He showed me where to touch myself to please myself so he could watch. I was seven. I know that because it was the same year I m*sturbated on the bed, behind my mother and she asked me what I was doing bouncing around back there and then she turned away from her soap opera and saw what I was doing, spanked my ass, told me to never do that again, ever and quickly ushered me to my room. Hello, where I started up again right where I left off and finished. So I know that happened, but that is not the story I am wanting to tell you.

I really don’t know how old I was. I was still young, I don’t believe regular school had started for me, yet. I don’t know. I remember it was an evening, nighttime and we were watching t.v. I was lying beside my dad on a green Naugahyde sofa. I straddled his lap and said “show it to me again daddy”, while bouncing up and down, excited by the prospect of seeing ‘it’ again. I remember he played dumb as my mom sat in the chair. He told me to get off of him and promptly removed himself from the room. It seems to me that after this incident, I didn’t receive another hug from him or touch for that matter. I mean, I don’t remember him holding my hand or anything like that after this incident. I don’t know if that’s true, memories are fickle creatures and retreat when examination becomes to critical or to harsh or lasts to long for that matter.

I just know the palpable fear I felt in my room, a few nights ago. I was feeling the fear as a 36 year old as I was also recognizing the level of anxiety and questioning what was causing the fear. I was there in my current body only I wasn’t able to protect myself from the fear and the sensing and I was feeling the fear as a ?? year old as it was happening. Was it just an anxiety attack? Was it a real memory? Did something happen in that room? I will probably never know when or why that fear first presented itself. It did, finally, pass that night and I feel asleep. The following day on my walk I wondered what would happen if I just kept walking. I mean nothing would happen, as I can’t walk myself out of my head which is exactly what I want to do.

I think that sort of walking is counterproductive, but so are these flashes. I haven’t felt rested since then though and I am working on ways to keep walking, that are not me running away again.

How? Many are still thoughts and thus remain to be seen.

One is this. I am now typing about the fear I felt and coming to an understanding that I am currently behaving like a recalcitrant child, refusing to clean her room. Only I am an adult and the refusal is to work a regular job from 9 to 5. My parents, through their eyes and their efforts, are providing for me again and there are no real complaints about it. They aren’t asking me when I am going to give some money to the cause or when I am going to buy my own gas for the truck. They aren’t asking any questions, so I am asking myself why they aren’t asking. What do they know about me, that I don’t know about me?

I said above that I was a protector and a bully in school and I was. I was never those things in church or in this house. Sure I fussed back at my mom growing up but I didn’t say much of anything to my father. I stayed out walking and riding my bike and just being outside. I don’t remember much of it, I just know that I didn’t stay inside all that much. So why wasn’t I a protector of the little girl lost in me. Where was the protector in me for myself? I can’t answer those questions, yet I know that this protector existed. She still exists. Some small part of me thinks that the protector thinks that I am not worthy of being protected. I think that the protector thinks I don’t need protection because I am not worthy and that the protector thinks we are separate. The protector has helped me stay on or rather off the course of remembering for years. I want her to come back now, only I have no more ignorance and thus no bliss nor any trust that she really can protect me.

I don’t share myself with others very often out of fear that I won’t remember which me I shared with them. I am much like cerebralmum says, in that “I am not even particularly skilled at maintaining the ones [relationships] I have.” There are lots of things I don’t know about and finally, finally I am not afraid to admit that I don’t know and “not knowing” is a well known place to me.

  1. November 30, 2007 4:49 pm

    I guess that the technical term for re-feeling those feelings is an abreaction. It’s supposedly cathartic, but I have never found them so. They are frightening and you get trapped in them. It’s awful the way memories become so confused. I have hardly any of my childhood. The “how old” you were thing is interesting. I know for my sister, nearly all her memories are “when she was 14” even though she knows it doesn’t make sense in the timeline.

    I am sorry that everything is so debilitating right now. I’m not going to say it will get better or that you’ll get through it, because hearing that has never seemed helpful to me. But I do think that the protector in you can be trusted. Maybe when you were younger, it was too hard for her to take care of you then. Maybe she was your way of doing the things, and learning the things, that you couldn’t yet do for yourself. I hope you let her find you again. Maybe it is you that feels separate and not worthy and she’s just waiting for you to let her in.

  2. rialudy permalink*
    November 30, 2007 5:14 pm

    Abreaction, I wouldn’t have looked for that word, it’s too big. I mean the idea of that word is too big. I am learning to trust all the parts of myself again and once I do that, then my protector can get on with her primary job description and protect me from falling pianos, harsh words and crazy drivers instead of protecting me from my memories. So I’ve had an abreaction – at least I can see my fear now. It is no longer hiding in the deep dark recesses of my mind.


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