Sunday, January 20, 2013

Changing Direction

Yeah, so .. .

It's been like a week and a half?  Two weeks?  Since my last post.  Once again I find it hard to have time to write.  sad sad . . .

But it's also because I think I am changing my perspective on things.  That first post of the year was very important, and something I really needed to do.

But I don't want to focus on the negatives, and the past and wallow in my fears, and that's what I feel I would be doing.  So I have no clue where I'll be going, blog-wise from here.

Sorry.

But I have decided to submit the story I wrote in November for the National Novel Writer's Month (NoNoWriMo) challenge in a contest I heard about.

I honestly doubt I have a chance at winning, but I feel like it's something I  need to do.  and action I can take to move me forward.  So, there it is. 

I still need to finish up the ending of the story, and then I'd appreciate if anyone would like to read it, to see if it makes sense and make suggestions and what-not.  It is a fantasy novel-- kind of like Lord of the Rings, except completely different-- so keep that in mind before volunteering.

Oh, and the due date for submissions is January 27th, so I don't have a huge amount of time.  but either way, I'd love to get some feedback, if anyone is interested.

Thanks!
Me.

Monday, January 7, 2013

First Post Follow Up

So someone sent me a message after reading my blog, offering her support and saying she was sorry it happened to me. 

And my thought after reading it was, “It’s over.  It’s done.  It’s the past, and I’m over it.”

I realize that that’s not entirely true.  In some ways, I’ll never be over it.  But I’m through being afraid to talk about it.  It won’t be easy, but I know I can do it now.  So that fear that I had is gone. 

The best way I can think to explain it is this:  I was born with a congenital heart defect.  When I was three years old I had open heart surgery to correct the defect.  There are some things—like the scar on my chest, or the increased chance that my child will have the same defect—that ARE related to the defect and surgery.  Other things, like a slight hearing problem or a discoloration on my tooth, MIGHT be caused by the defect.

The heart defect is corrected.  It’s gone, it’s in the past.  I still have to deal with the effects of it, though, known and possible.  But I don’t have to spend all my time wondering if this or that physical problem is because of it.  It doesn’t really matter, except possibly to doctors who study that sort of thing.

So I’m thinking of the assault in the same way.  It’s in the past and dealt with.  (Okay, it’s being dealt with.  I know there will still be times when something comes up and I think of it, and get scared.  But I’m getting past it.) 

I have things, like trust issues, that I know are because of being assaulted.  And there are other things, like having trouble expressing myself when I get angry, or maybe sabotaging myself when things are going well, that might be a result of being assaulted.

I don’t have to spend hours picking my brain and emotions apart wondering if this is because of that, or not.  There are things I’ll deal with that I’ll look at, and think, ‘Yeah, this is probably because of the assault’, but it doesn’t have to be a huge deal.

I went through a program called the Christian Women’s Job Corps in San Angelo, Texas.  They had a psychologist come talk to us about self esteem.  She said that you can actually choose how you feel.  And if you say, ‘I am happy,’ that’s how you will feel.  Because the act of saying it causes your brain to make it true.  So, because I say, ‘It’s over.  It’s done.’ I’m making that true.  I’m sure I’ll have relapses, but that’s just part of the process.

It is what it is, and I am who I am.  And as bad as it was (I still feel weird typing the word assault) I am stronger because of it.  And if I could go back and change things—well, I’m glad I don’t have the option of doing so, because I don’t know what I’d do.

But if it hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be me.  And I like myself—or at least I’m learning to.

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

2013 First Post: Talking about it


            First of all, I’m not going into detail here about who or when or where it happened.  That’s really not the point.  The point is that I get a panicky feeling whenever I think about it, or imagine trying to talk about it.  So it this is rambling and doesn’t make the best sense, forgive, but I think I just have to pound it out and post it before I lose my nerve.

It happened years ago, in a place I should have felt safe, by a person who should have protected me.  I remember parts of it as clear as glass, and other parts are just a blur.  It was maybe fifteen minutes of my life, but it still affects me.

I was assaulted, and I guess you’d call it sexual assault, but it felt more like a control thing to me.  I remember struggling to get free, and pleading, begging him to let me go.  And I couldn’t get free, and he wouldn’t let me up.

Except then he did.  And I got up and I walked away, and I left, and somehow I shoved it into the back of my mind, and went on like nothing had happened.  I even interacted with him later, as if I still trusted him, but I knew it was all an act.

It never got to the point of rape, and it only happened once.  I know there are many people who have dealt with worse, much worse.  So I think I shouldn’t be bothered by it.  But I am.

The first time I talked about it was when a roommate in college said to me—we were playing cards, I remember that—and she just asked, in the most matter-of-fact voice, ‘Were you sexually abused?’

And I said, ‘Yes’.  Because it was just the way she said it, like asking if I liked mushrooms or something.

And she said, ‘I thought so.’ And then she said she had been, too.

That was pretty much all we said about it, but it brought it back into my mind again.

I started reading some books about it, and thinking things through.  I went through a self-destructive phase where I did some things that seem pretty stupid in retrospect.

I think I am pretty much over the physical fear part of it, thanks mostly to my husband.  I met him, and the very first time he hugged me, some part of me just gave a sigh, and said, ‘Safe’.  

But I know there are emotional things that are messed up in my head, and I know because I still get that panicky feeling.  And it seems sometimes like I can’t feel things that I should be able to.  I get in a situation, and I think, ‘I should really be angry right now,’ but inside I just feel cold.
There was that school shooting recently, and all the talk about how horrible it was.  But I didn’t have that reaction.  And then I thought, ‘To most people, school is a place where kids should be safe.  But really no place is ever completely safe.’ 

And I realized that I thought that way because I was made to feel afraid in my own home, a place where I had always felt safe.  And I never completely go that feeling back.  And if you aren’t safe in your own home, then there’s no where to be safe.

I used to sometimes find myself just thinking, ‘I want to go home,’ even when I was in my own bed in the place I lived.

And now I realize I wasn’t longing for a place, so much as that feeling of love and safety you get when you’re a little kid and your parents tuck you into bed and you know everything is going to be okay.

So now should be the part where I give some conclusion about how everything worked out for me and I’m fine.  But the truth is, I’m not fine, at least not entirely, and I’m not sure I’ll ever be.

But I want to get better.  I’m tired of being in the place I’m at.  And I’m doing something to change things.  So that’s a good thing.

Little bits and pieces, I am thinking, little bits and pieces.  And I’m wondering what I mean by that.   I guess it’s something about feeling broken, and trying to put it back together, like building a tower of Legos.  Or better yet, chocolate chip cookies.

And there is a little bit of humor, so now I’m thinking I’m going to be okay for today.

But I am still scared to post this.

But I will.

A New Year, a New Blog . . .

So, this year’s blog is dedicated to overcoming my fears.  It occurred to me recently that I feel afraid nearly all the time, and I don’t want to be afraid any more.  It’s holding me back. 

2 Timothy 1:7:  “For God hath not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind.”

Anyway, this is going to be tough to get through I think, but I’m going to take a crack at it.

Here goes . . .