Here we are once more, another week has passed and another therapy session under my belt so to speak! It's hard to beleive that just over two years ago I started going to therapy to deal with my past issues, initially I had asked for help from my doctor but the services available in my area are next to nothing, so I decided to go private, something many survivors have to do to get any help dealing with things. I'm now on my second therapist as things seemed to come to a top with the first, this new once is amazing, I feel totally unjudged and able to talk freely she has learnt more about my past in the last nine months than the other one did in nearly two years! Maybe its the atmosphere there? or maybe its the fact that I feel more comfortable talking about my past experiences? I really don't know!

Today started like almost every other one we've had, she asked how my week had gone since I was last there and as is my usual reply, 'not so bad' we chatted about current events for a few minutes. She doesn't let me talk to much about things happening now unless they are related to my past, which is a good thing I guess as I can chat to anyone about my current problems at work and so on.

We decided today to read some more of my book, and she told me about a service being set up nearby that is going to specialise in helping victims of sexual abuse and rape, she has suggested that I contact them and offer them copies of my book as she feels it may help others understand how devastating abuse can be to the victim, and how they can get through it and lead a normal life. She gave me a phone number and someones name but I haven't called as yet as it was to late when I got home. I looked on the website of the group and they seem amazing in what they offer to victims, free councelling and advice centres and support which is so lacking in this area of the country. In fact its lacking all over the country, nationwide! So many victims just can't get the help when they need it unless they go private, which most are unable to afford, so this place will be very busy I think.. Anyways, as I said we started reading more of my poems, We talked about a particular poem I'd written some three years ago which I called;

MY VOICE

In my heart I'm aching to tell you, Exactly what they did,

The terror, The memories, The nightmares, of when I was a kid.

But for some unexplained reason, the words will not come out,

Even when I feel I can, I'm never able to shout!

If someone raises their voice to me, Or even raises a hand,

I Freeze, I stutter, I Stumble, Feelings I can not ban.

I'm afraid of confrontation, Afraid to say my bit,

The memories of my childhood, giving me a fit.

He used to shout out everyday, Every week, we'd plan to run away,

But, we had nowhere we could go, We had to stay, now I know!

Endure all the shouting, the beatings too,

There was never anything, at all we could do!

We all left home, one by one,

But by that time, he'd had his fun.

So! Put up with it all, had no one to tell,

Endure all the beatings, the shouting as well.

As little Children, we had no choice!

BUT! NOW AS ADULTS! WE HAVE A VOICE!

It showed me that just three years ago, I was starting to realise that none of the abuse that I'd endured had been my fault, my siblings and I had taken out first step father through the courts and won, he'd been sentenced to nine years in prison for what he put us all through..

Many years on I had still blamed myself for a lot of it somehow believing that it was my own fault! until I got the internet at home and was introduced to support groups on line, those groups were my saviours and now I co-run one such group with a very special friend of mine. At first going into these groups was so scary, I had no idea there were so many survivors out there looking for the same things as I was, understanding and guidance to sort out how I felt and what I thought was happening to me.

From about christmas 2004 to may 2005 I was getting used to being in these groups and was talking to other survivors about their experiences, unfortunately none of them seemed to want to listen to me and I began to feel very depressed and isolated, once again it seemed that people were taking from me and giving nothing back in return, once again I felt used! People would tell me they were suicidal and couldn't cope with the memories, or that they had overdosed whilst talking to me, I began to isolate myself and try to hide away as I had no idea what to do or say to these people, then I wrote a poem where basically I said 'Listen to me, I need to talk as well'... One lady who is now 'my best friend' decided to listen and I haven't looked back since, she heard my cry for help and understood my need to talk. I hadn't slept properly in months and was having constant 'flashbacks' about things that had happened.. I was sinking and sinking fast, but she was there for me every night for as long as I needed her even though she was thousands of miles away at the time! She showed me what true friendship was and how I could learn to 'TRUST' once more.. something I hadn't done in a very long time..

Today I talked at length with my therapist about my feelings back then, how I remembered the abuse in nightmares and flashbacks, how I felt isolated and alone, and how Somehow I seem to have come through the other side of it and now am relatively stable..lol... if there is such a thing? You tell me eh!! ... We talked about my feelings when as a child I was force fed, how I feel about food today and the connection due to what I had been made to do as a child, it was eyeopening.. I know I only eat because I have to just to survive, not because I enjoy it, I don't find food pleasurable at all.. because of being forced to eat as a child I now hate it, and frequently don't bother.. we talked about how it was being beaten or watching a sibling being beaten each day, always one of us would be beaten, he had to take his mood out on someone and as innocent children we were his targets! I clearly recall right now just how it felt to be beaten with his cane, often he would miss the bottom and catch the lower back, my god did that sting! It hurt really bad but we daren't cry because if we did he'd hit even more, so all of us tried to stay strong and only cry once it was over and we were out of the way where he couldn't hear us...

Sorry can't write anymore tonight... maybe I'll try tomorrow? who knows..