It’s been awhile…

It’s been awhile since I posted. After a lengthy recovery from surgery, a great deal of financial burdens, family drama, and the like, I’m back and ready to journal again.

For those of you who so kindly volunteered to be a part of the book, I want to thank you again, and reassure you that I’m back at it. You’ve all been on my mind, and I sincerely thank you for your patience.

God bless.


Finding the real me

As I was going through the process of really working on how the abuse affected my life, I wrote this entry about being vulnerable and finding the real me. Because I’m in the process of writing the book, I will be posting blog entries I’ve made in the past as a means of connecting to those who are still struggling with their survival.

originally posted Sun, 21 Nov 2004

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I’ve been sitting at this keyboard for some time now, trying to figure out how to start this entry. I have so much in my head but I’m not sure what to say. I’m angry, and sad, and depressed, and frustrated, and lonely, and afraid. I’m also hopeful that things will be okay.

I need to deal with my hidden pain. It’s hard to describe, but it’s as if I am 100 different people all trapped in the same body. No, I don’t have multiple personalities. I have just always felt as if I NEEDED to be 100 different people just to make it through life. I don’t know who I am anymore.

When I look in the mirror, it’s not me I see. I see some other woman “pretending” to be me; the face I’ve borrowed for the day. Sometimes I think I see glimpses of me, but I’m not really sure. Sometimes the me I see is ugly and angry and evil and mean. Sometimes the me I see is pretty and sexy and confident and kind. I truly have no idea if any of those images is me at all; maybe they are and I’m choosing to ignore it. Maybe I’m seeing parts of myself that I don’t like and those are the traits I need to change.

When I look at pictures of myself as a child, I don’t recognize, at all, the girl in the photographs. I know I’ve written before about my memory loss, but it’s just so hard to deal with. I really hate not remembering. I especially hate the feeling of not being in my own body, in my own skin. I wish I could ask the girl in the photographs what it was like to be her. I just want to remember again. I guess that’s why I don’t recognize myself now – I have no reference point.

I also know that my memories may be too painful to bear and that’s why they are lost. My cousin once said that she didn’t even remember me being around for family functions, etc. even though the photographs show me there. She said that maybe God was carrying me then because I couldn’t walk alone. It’s very comforting for me to believe that.

I’m not sure where to go from here. How do I find out who I really am? And what if I don’t like the person I see? It’s all so scary but so necessary. I can’t keep living this life and feeling as if it’s all a big lie. I need to find myself and my meaning in life.

I am not a victim. I am a survivor.