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Wow, that's great how you worked through that and got in touch with the feelings you couldn't quite put a finger on.  I had a similar experience last summer when I saw an obituary posted on my facebook.  A young man who I'd gone to school with had been killed in a car accident leaving a wife, and two children behind.   My first thought was how sad for his family, his children to have to grow up without their father.  But my feelings were soon followed by the memories of the torment this kid and his buddies inflicted on me throughout highschool.  I read the comments people were posting about what an amazing person he was and all I could think about was what a horrible person he had been.  I know that people can change and maybe he did but I couldn't help but feel angry that everyone was saying what a good person he was.  I guess I need to evaluate it a little more.  Thanks for posting.

Thanks for the feedback,  and the links, I guess when it comes down to it we have to do whatever works for us. 

Thanks,
It has been a long road, I just keep trying to move forward.  When I put that title, I was thinking about about a conversation I recently had with one of my brothers and was going to pose a question, somehow I got lost in what I was sharing and forgot to add the question... I struggle with forgiving the people who promised to take care of me and instead hurt me.  Not just my foster parents, but friends of theirs who knew what was going on and did nothing, other people outside my foster family who abused me, and the father of my two youngest children who was emotionally, and physically abusive to my older children and myself.   Recently due to an unexpected tradgedy I was placed the situation of being in the same room as my foster parents, it's been almost 18 yrs since I've seen them.  I made the choice not to talk to them, or let them talk to me or my children.  A week or so later I had a conversation with one of my older brothers, he asked me how things went and I told him I didn't speak to them.  His response to me was that it had been the perfect opprotunity to offer forgiveness.  I tried to explain to him that I've tried and don't know how.  I don't want to do it for them, but for myself so I can move forward in my recovery but for some reason I can't seem to figure out how.  He makes it sound so easy but then again he never had to live with them in that situation for a long period of time so he didn't go through what me or my other brother went through.  Sometimes I think that I'm just being stubborn.  I'm curios to know if anyone on here has forgiven their abusers, and if so how?  What do you say to another family member who seems to just accept how things were and manages to move on and expects the same from you?  Not sure if this made any sense and i have a tendency to be long winded when I'm frustrated. 

1/17/16

Well, it's been awhile since I've sat down and journaled but my Therepist suggested I start again so here I am.  Lately I've been thinking alot about how I need to feel more thankful for the things I have but something inside me doesn't want to let up.  I feel numb, foggy, anxious, and irritated with myself because I can't make myself feel better.  I dread the thought of going back to work tomorrow, I wish I could just sit on my couch in my baggy sweats all day and just ignore the world.  I wonder when things are going to get better, and if they do, will it stay that way or will I somehow screw it up.  Learning how to be an adult really sucks, I feel like I'm more a teenager then a 40 yr old.  My therepist says it's because I am basically still a child only in an adult body.  He's out of town this week, I hate it when I can't see him weekly.  I can think of so many things I'd like to talk about but I know when he gets back, and I go for my meeting I probably wont be able to say what I want to say.  It's getting better, I can mostly make eye contact and I'm okay talking about things that are going on in my life right now.  We talk alot about my kids, my job, and my finances.  We've tried doing EMDR, and I've tried talking about the abuse but it's difficult.  I start shaking and twitching, my brain gets foggy and tired and I can't talk about what I'm seeing in my head.  Sometimes I just want to blurt it all out but embarrassment prevents me from saying much more then I was abused.  He tells me that the images wont stop popping into my head if I continue to stuff them, I have to eventually get it out and that's the only way I'll heal.  One step at a time .... I guess we'll see what happens when he gets back. 

I do believe that their are such things as repressed memories.  Almost all of my memories before the age of 11 come in snap shots, I know I was sexually abused by my brothers 19yr old friend and his brother when I was around six but I'm not positive that was the first time I was ever sexually abused, the snapshots of memories I have of that event are pretty clear yet recently within the last year or so other memories, snapshots of me at a younger age being sexually abused have popped in my mind.  Often I'm not clear on who... there were several abusers at different times in my childhood I can't always put a face to my perpetrators.
Sometimes I can't remember the specifics.  For instance, an old man who lived up the road from us molested me, he groomed me by having me sit on his lap, and then he would run his hand up inside my shirt.  I remember clearly the feeling of being afraid to tell him to stop.  My foster sister was also abused by the same man, what she remembers is that he would take us in his room and fondle us and make us fondle him.  She has memories that I've obviously locked away.  I look at it in this way.... if my memories of my childhood weren't repressed, then I would actually have more memories, the reason I don't have more memories is because they have been locked away.  The sucky thing is, the memories that I do have are memories of abuse... no happy ones. 

Hi Multicolour,
I'm new here and just came across this.  I was also raped repeatedly as a child starting at about the age of six until around the age of 11 when I was taken out of the situation.   It is extremely difficult for me to use the word rape versus just saying that I was sexually abused, I think because I've always had a habit of sugar coating the abuse.  I'm learning slowly how to call it what it was despite the shame I feel.  Thank you for speaking your mind, and calling it what it is.   If your looking for another forum specifically for Adult Survivors of Childhood Sexual Abuse and Rape try Pandora's Aquarium if you haven't already.  Reading other peoples stories and being able to relate has helped me to feel less alone. 
Good Luck

I want to stay here in this place.
No HURT, No ANGER, No FEAR.
Just EMPTINESS, NOTHINGNESS, in this space.
Comforting darkness surrounding me, holding me.
EMOTIONALLY NAKED.
My arms hugging my knees to my
chest.  I'M SAFE! a peaceful ignorance by choice,
nothing LOST.
No SHAME or GUILT near,
just enveloping BLANKNESS residing here. 

I'm pretty new to this forum but I've shared a bit about myself in others.  I was recently diagnosed with PTSD which from everything I've read here, as well as other pages it is more likely to be C-PTSD.  I also struggle with OCD, Depression, Anxiety, and what I believe to be Disorganized Attachment Disorder.  Even though I've been in Therepy for over four years now, I feel like I've barely touched the tip of the iceburg, needless to say it's frustrating.   Throughout my childhood there were several different abusers, starting at about the age of five when my mom, my youngest brother and I moved in with my Grandparents.  My mom was sick with Cancer and needed help taking care of us.  In total there are six kids  I'm the youngest and the only girl.  My dad died with I was three leaving my mom to raise us on her own.  Up until we moved in with my Grandparents I don't believe I'd ever been abused in anyway.  My Grandmother was the first person in my life to make me feel unloved.  She had no tolerence for children and would often scream at me and my brother or drag us to her room and whip us with my Grandpas belt.  My mom was to weak to do much about it, and my Grandfather although he was nice never stepped up to defend us against my Grandmothers rage.  When I was six my mom died leaving me and brothers orphans.  No one on my mom's side of the family wanted us or could take us, and we didn't have any contact with my dad's side of the family who were all abusive alcoholics.  To make a long story a bit shorter, I moved around alot from one family to another during that time I was sexually abused and raped for the first time, I think I was around six.  When I was eight I was taken in by the pastor and his wife, my brothers had already been living with them for awhile.  Not long after I moved in my four older brothers ranging in age from 19 to 14 were kicked out so it was just me, and my youngest brother who was two years older then me as well as my foster moms son.   I was a tomboy, I hated wearing dresses or doing anything girly.  I would much rather be playing in the dirt, catching crawdads in the creek, or challenging my brother to see who could make a higher jump on our bikes.  My foster mom didn't like it.  She considered us problem kids, and made sure that her friends and family new how bad we were.  I wont deny that I had issues, back then people probably didn't know a whole lot about the affect trauma had on kids.  Although I had been potty trained, I would frequently wet my bed, or my pants, I argued alot, had trouble controlling my emotions, fought with other kids at school, had nightmares almost every night, and was fairly sneaky at times.  My brother displayed the same behaviors but was alot more stubborn then I was.  When my foster mom was angry she would scream in my face, if I didn't cry she'd slap me until I did and then slap me more when I wouldn't stop.  She'd do the same to him but it always took alot more to make him cry.  Other forms of abuse included, making me drink dish soap, standing me against the wall on my tip toes for long periods of time usually by the cast iron stove so it felt like my flesh was burning.  If I moved she'd scream and threaten me or sometimes shove my face into the wall.  Sometimes the punishments were more planned and not spur of the moment, she'd send me in my room and tell me to strip my clothes off.  I'd wait for her to come in with the switch or the paddle and she'd tell me to bend over the bed.  She usually said things like " this is the only way your going to learn to behave".  No amount of begging, pleading, or apologizing would change her mind.  If I moved or ran she would chase me around the room whipping me on my butt, legs, back, shoulder, and head.  More often then not my brother and I would sit together afterwards and compare the welts that covered us.  My foster dad was quiet, he never raised his voice or put us down and would often play outside with us, take us fishing, or let us drive the tractor around the garden.  I felt like he loved me even though he never got in the way of the disapline and at times when my foster mom insisted he did the whipping.  I wanted his affection and so when he started coming in my room at night under the pretense of just making sure I was okay I didn't say anything.  I still didn't say anything when he started touching me or when he started having sex with me.  Looking back, I'm not sure who I would have told, everyone believed that I had dicipline issues.  The abuse lasted until I was about 11 when after getting a beating for not doing the dishes right I went into the bathroom and downed whatever pills I could find in the medicine cabinet.  My foster mom caught me and started hitting me, screaming at me to just go ahead and kill myself.  Luckily, I didn't get enough down to do any damage and the next day they told me they were sending me away.  I was sent to live with another family where I stayed for about two years.  They treated me good even though I acted out in alot of ways, fighting, running away from home, having sex, argueing, etc...  It took awhile but I started to learn to trust them and feel safe.  My world was turned upside down again just before I turned 13, my foster dad had a heartattack and died.  The pastors wife convinced me to come back and live with them, she told me it would be better and easier on my foster mom during such a hard time.  She told me things would be different and that she wouldn't hit me anymore.  I was afraid to say no so I moved back with them.  Things were different for a little while but it wasn't long before she started hitting me, shaming me, calling me names, and threatening me.  I was with them for about a year before they decided to send me away again.   They decided to send me to live with one of my older brothers, that was the end of the abuse and the beginning of my self destructive behavior.  As an adult I've never been in a relationship that wasn't abusive in one way or another, I'm now a single mom of four amazing kids.  Although through my relationships, my children have been exposed to abusive behavior I have been working hard on breaking the cycle.  Thank you for letting me share

I can so relate to this and often feel lost, like I'm just going through life in a fog and learning how to be an adult as I go.  My biggest fear is that my children won't be prepared for adulthood because of my lack of guidence.  Slowly, with the help of my therepist I'm learning tools that were never taught to me growing up. 

Thank you all for the feedback, glad I'm not alone. 

   I'm Adult survivor of childhood sexual abuse, as well as physical, mental, emotional, and spiritual abuse for a prolonged period of time who has been working on healing through counceling, and recovery groups for the last four years but I have yet to be able to get angry, or cry about what happened to me.  When I think about it my body reacts in certain ways so even in therepy I get embarrassed and try to avoid it.  I'm just curios to know if anyone can relate to this, it's like I just don't have any emotions about it.  My therepist says it's becouse my feelings are stuffed down so far that they wont come up but I don't know.