Topics

Trigger warning - SA and invalidation.

I am glad to see the movement taking off and I agree that it's time to stop remaining silent. However, I've had to take a break from watching the news. There are just too many cases of harassment lately. And every time more allegations are brought up against some other famous person, I feel that I have to defend my memory of what happened to me with husband. He's begun telling me that he doubts I was harassed - that I somehow ASKED for it. Or led the boss on. Or in some other way gave my boss indication that I wanted sex with him. That threatening my job if I told or even if I said NO somehow didn't fit the description of harassment.

And there is a huge part of me that wants to hurt him for saying that to me. Then, I want to hurt the man who harassed me. Then, other, older memories started popping up of other situations. The date rape and the box store manager who harassed all of us - giving me no confidence of a fair hearing regarding the coworker who date-raped me.

Then, I also think of other situations, like the one suffered and survived by my mother - at about the same time my situation was unraveling. HER boss was groping and saying it was an accident, suggesting that her shirt could show more cleavage as they were in a fashion-forward occupation. Nothing quite blatant enough to file charges on, but a hostile work environment where it was ok for the male boss to call his female employees 'Babe' and 'Kitten' and grope.

In a culture that calls the whistleblower a rat, I shouldn't be surprised that my husband suddenly, after years of supporting me, stands and accuses the victim of ulterior motives. I will agree that it could seem to him to be ridiculous that someone wait 15 or 20 years to finally speak up, but that is because he doesn't understand the fear placed on women (or harassed men, especially harassed men!) to keep quiet or lose their job. And not just that job, but a crummy reference so that future jobs could ALSO be harder to get. Plus a smear campaign once the whistle-blower is removed. When a person has worked in a place for 5+ years, blowing the whistle means turning away from any friends made on that job, holding your head high while people call you names and disparage YOUR moral fiber.

Yes, I'm triggered right now, just thinking about it. I'm angry, hurt, sad and tired. My back hurts worse just from the weight of the anger and pain and sense of betrayal. Betrayal from my husband, the harassing boss(es) and coworkers. Betrayal that our society is only now getting a taste of how big the problem is. It would be easier to find women over the age of 25 who CAN'T claim #MeToo.

If we've done nothing else right in this era of instant press, instant news, instant opinions, we got this one right. So, though I'm not on Twitter, let me add my voice - #MeToo. And, though I know the statute is long-expired on all three situations that cause me to be able to write #MeToo, I can stand with these younger women who have the confidence to stand up and refuse to take it. I have the courage to stand and say our system is broken, has been broken a long time. But, we have hope. Of a time when all must be treated as equals and respect is earned not assumed, where those who call 'FOUL' can be believed, because the liars who falsely call 'FOUL' are found out and prosecuted for their false claims. Allowing only those of us who HAVE survived this to claim membership in the #MeToo community. Male and Female, Gay and Transgender and Straight. So that all will know that we are all equal in God's eyes. That nobody 'deserves' harassment or worse. Nobody. There is no 'except'.

And, even if I had gone into my job every day with a revealing blouse and a tight skirt, I wasn't asking for it. And, even if I had a crush on the guy, I wasn't asking for it. And even if I wore too much makeup I wasn't asking for it. And nobody WANTS to be harassed, threatened with job loss and treated as worthless unless we allowed it. And treated even worse if we did - because then the boss 'had' us and 'had' us over the barrel for complying - so they made us believe

With all this, to hear my husband blame the women reporting at long last, to hear him diminish the role so many men have historically played in creating the society that allowed it for so long, to hear him question whether or not I was harassed.... No. It's better for me to not watch the news, not find out the latest accused. Not hear my husband defend the accused or make fun of the accusers. Better for me to not hate my husband. So, hearing about #MeToo is a trigger for me.

I would like to make this the official home of the healing porch.

This is an idea several of us have come up with and want to maintain.

What we already know about the healing porch - first, it is imaginary. But, based on some real facts. It resembles the photo in my profile picture (an actual house I wish I could buy... ahh, if wishes were houses, I'd own it today).

Second, the porch wraps all the way around the house. Those who enjoy sun can sit in the un-roofed section, those who don't so much can even enjoy the screened in section. There are chairs, tables, swings, sofas, easy chairs.

Third, there is a beach and ocean just off the one side of the house. This ocean has crystal blue water, the sand never gets too hot to walk on.

Off another side of the porch is a middle/large concrete area for chalk expression and art. Hopscotch is popular over here.

Forest and lawn are represented off the other two porch sides. This is a magical healing porch, so it can shift as is needed for your healing time with us.

We have board games, bug lights, blankets of healing, peace, comfort, acceptance, rest and many other necessary emotions. They are scattered about the porch and you are welcome to wrap yourself in whichever blank you need. Fear not, this is a magical porch - if everyone needs acceptance, there will be enough to go around.

Refreshing beverages are always available - sorry, folks - one thing I feel strongly about, no alcohol. It blocks healing. Otherwise, all drinks are just waiting, cold or hot as is best for that beverage.

Snacks and light meals are also all around - fruit bowls, vegetable trays. Any vegan can be as well fed as the omnivores (including me) on this porch. If food is part of your challenge, there will always be a 'food-free' side to remove that as an issue during your time on the healing porch.

We've just had the suggestion that my puppies join us on the porch. I think it's a wonderful idea. In fact, if anyone has a pet, please bring it! We have shelving to hold aquariums, window jambs that would hold 20 pound cats, places for puppies to run and fetch, and whatever your pet wants or needs. Because this is a magical porch, messes clean themselves and no pet would DREAM of harming another pet.

All suggestions are welcome!! This is a place for all of us. It started as a mental image to help some of us remember to relax, breathe and enjoy each others' support. It's a great place to get acquainted with your inner child - everyone is safe here. There are games and friends to play them with. There are journals that nobody would ever dream of reading. There are phones and friends waiting on the other end to hear from you.

It is a place of healing. And community (I hear hopscotch is THE game this summer). Welcome.

It's time for me to put into practice some of the wonderful tools and advice I've learned here. I will be through from time to time, but I need to take a break from venting and trying to advise others how to live their lives. It's time to focus on my growth, forgiveness, and possibly making the life changes that scare me but need to be made.

Peace to each of you. Don't forget to breathe!

This is an ongoing theme. If anyone is nice to me, especially when I'm not expecting nice, I cry.

Now, I can't always get the tears out, that's been a problem through my marriage - invalidation of emotion if accompanied by tears.

Lately I have been able to shed tears. And with that, an increase in the amount of tears shed because someone said something nice to or about me.

It's as if I've come to believe so many horrible things about myself that the mere hint of anything good about me and I'm a basket case. Well, it also depends on the source. If the source is someone who has hurt me in the past - I thank them for their kindness, but it's all kind of cold. Sadly, my husband is in this group. But, if it's someone who I respect highly or whose opinion has always been kind, if honest about negatives. Then, the waterworks open up!

Quite embarrassing when this happens at work. Especially from being on this website. It's kind of hard to answer the questions - why are you crying? So, I dry up quickly as I can and remain thankful for the office to myself.

I just wondered, does anyone else go instantly to overwhelmed tears at the simplest kindness shown by others?

Today started out pretty good. Honestly, I was feeling pretty chipper. But, out of what feels like nowhere, the bitterness bug is in my blood. I can't seem to get it out.

I'm angry at both of my parents for their neglect of me. I'm angry that they thought so little of the consequences then and that they barely take time to think of me now.

This will pass, but I may scratch my scalp off if this doesn't begin to abate soon. One of my self-sooths is to run my nails (not hard, just enough to feel them) along my hair/scalp to the daily pony-tail I wear.

Breathing. Slowly. OK. Back to work before I lose my job.

We spend a lot of time working to heal our selves. Either through therapy or this website or other things we are doing in our private lives.

Let's take a moment to celebrate the triumphs. Big or little. Moments that either made us proud of ourselves or showed us that we can and will overcome one day.

I just wrote about one in my journal. I won't repost it here. Besides, I do have more! And I'd love, love, love to hear about those moments when you knew that you did the right thing, that you surprised yourself with your abilities, that you look back upon and smile

Here we go:

I'm not known for being a good communicator. I'm, in fact, pretty poor at it. Sometimes, I have to FORCE myself to reach out. I'm not real sure where that comes from, but here is my 'overcome' moment.  A friend I work with has been struggling physically. I also happen to know that she's got cPTSD from a completely messed up childhood - though she has a good husband and a very good daughter. Stress in her life has put her out of commission, completely buckling to back pain. It stinks in every way and makes me sad for her. But, instead of sitting here wondering how she's doing, hoping she'd call me with an update, whatever, I reached out. I called her (knowing she might be ticked as she hates talking on the phone at home). I struggled past the possibility of upsetting my friend and being rejected.

It was so worth it! She's not doing well, but I was able to get her husband's truth rather than her minimalized version. AND, I was able to let her know how much I love her and miss her at work. My moment of triumph was doing what was right rather than what I was comfortable with. Validating my friend and showing her I care is worth way more than my fears of rejection. YES!

Your turn.....

*Trigger warning - really, folks, I'm highly triggered and don't want to make anyone else's day worse ***




Last warning!




Yesterday was the first day of jury duty. It's generally the boring part where they take your generic personal info (work, occupation, etc) to see if THAT disqualifies you from serving. Then, they ask a few more personal questions (ever in prison for over a year? that kind of thing). That took all morning. So, we didn't even know WHAT case we might have to serve on. Then, just before selecting the jury, they told us about the case.

The man was accused of criminal sexual conduct with a minor under 11 years of age. I recognize the man's face from the news, but can no longer remember any of the details. Because of the nature of the case, they have to ask all jurors (but we don't have to say in open court, we can say quietly with just lawyers and judge present) if anyone has had any sexual abuse committed against them.

Partly to get out of this case (hopefully) and partly to not pretend these things DIDN'T happen to me, I stood and approached the bench. I was near the front, so I didn't see the others standing behind me. Only after I spoke with the lawyers & judge, did I turn around and see a line behind me. I partly cried from my own pain, the pain I saw in the others and the fact that there were so many others. It made me angry, too.

The man was innocent until proven guilty. I was not selected for that jury. I don't know if he won or lost his case. But, I was angry. Angry that there are so many of us with stories to tell. So many of us who have to be brave AGAIN and tell our story AGAIN to judges and lawyers because these things keep happening.

One of the ladies waiting to tell her story held my eye and gave me a tear-filled thank you. As if to say, thank you for standing up, because you did, I could, too. And I was sad again as well.

How dare these people steal our bodies and our hearts and make US pay for their crimes. I'm not speaking of the defendant. I wasn't there, I don't know his story. I'm talking about all the people who did damage to US, causing us to seek refuge and understanding together.

How dare that coworker see that I had a crush on him and think it was ok to hurt me! How dare he make ME feel like the criminal for discussing it with my boss. How dare she try to make little of it because they were friends. How dare any of them think I needed to get over it because if I didn't THEIR lives would be more complicated.

Shame on those who insist the best way to handle this is to sweep it under the rug. Shame on those who tried to excuse his behavior, when at the end of his attack, he made it clear it was not fun, it was an attack.

How dare that boss think he had a right to 'seduce' me, then ensure the continuance of his harassing abuse by threatening my job if I said no or talked to his boss. How DARE he use the fact I needed a job to do that to me. How dare any boss anywhere think it's OK to use an employee for sex?

How dare it be legal for a sexual harasser to 'scorch the earth' by calling all the lawyers and giving his name and THAT ALONE being enough for me to not be able to hire a lawyer to go after this man? HE knew what I did not - that he was committing a crime. By the time I caught up to his awareness, he'd already done the damage to me and to my ability to fight him.

How dare I be put in positions where I have to explain again and again why I flinch when a male supervisor makes any off-color joke or touches a shoulder innocently! How dare I be afraid to socialize with coworkers away from the office, for fear someone will THINK I gave an invitation when I did not.

It is not fair that MY life was limited because of criminals who knew what they were doing. And, it's not fair that, even when they get caught, they get a day in court while we get a life-time sentence.

It's not fair that this society pats the back of the criminal who gets away with it either by intimidating the victim into silence or by 'winning' in court. It's not fair that society still looks at victims as either complicit in the crimes against them (she was dressed provocatively) or as damaged goods to be removed from the mainstream, lest we taint the rest of the crowd.

I'm on a rant, but I'm ANGRY. And sad, and triggered into flashbacks and scared and hurt for all those who were in line behind me yesterday. And for the little girl who was molested - whether by that man or someone else. She was damaged and hurting and deserving of justice on her behalf.

Thank you for listening. My husband didn't want to hear this last night and it's screaming out of my pores in a need to be heard.

I had another thread that inspired this. We all need help with that affirming voice we don't usually hear. It's there, but it's been drowned out by all the noise of the IC, OC and our own negative self-speak. Perhaps we're still IN an abusive situation. Regardless, we all NEED to keep hearing what others see in us. We NEED to know that others care, that we DO have good in our hearts and that we CAN be full participants in our own lives and maybe even in society as well.

Here's how I imagined this thread..... Each of us cyber-joins hands. We imagine taking turns being 'in the center'. During our turn in the center, everyone else shares the traits, personality and/or anything positive about that person WITH that person. If you see your name, save the post. We want only honest posts, please. We want everyone to see that, despite or because of their personal pain, their wonderful qualities do still shine forth for all to see!

Because there are so many people who I care about here, I'm going to pick one who has been especially close in my heart:

Sanmagic7 - it's your turn in the center:

What Wife#2 says about you: Gentle heart, warrior spirit, wise, compassionate, mother-bear heart, open, genuine.

Who wants to go next? You can share about how Sanmagic7 has touched you or you can hop in the middle for your own turn.

I just want to shout from some rooftop. I'm so proud of our little mutt. She's a young thing, but hubby says she's doing great so far. I don't even know how many she's had. I'm stuck at work. But, at least hubby is  home with her and our DS8 gets to see them as well!

Please, Lord, may they and Mama Dog all be healthy and strong!

Sometimes, being stuck at work just stinks!

Thank you for letting me shout my happy news!

I will always remember that day. I felt trapped in my own life. There was a lot going on that wasn't healthy, physically or emotionally. I didn't see a way out of it.

I didn't really think about WAYS to end things, but the fact that it even crossed my mind set off alarms in my brain. THAT's not good, said my brain. Heart was angry and tired. Brain said, too bad! We'll figure this out! Heart cried. Brain said, that's it - time to make that phone call. And I called the national suicide hotline.

** And I couldn't get through! it was the early days of cell phones as home phones and the hotline wasn't designed for cell phone calls.

I dialed again. NO luck. Heart said - See? Brain said ' Shut up, we'll get this.' On the 2nd try, I got through. The very helpful lady on the other end got in touch with my best friend (freaking out, she was - she did NOT see this coming), who agreed to bring me to the hospital, so I wouldn't need an ambulance. She stayed on the line until SHE spoke with my friend proving that she was really there.

I can ONLY guess how fast she drove, but she crossed our town in a record 10 minutes. I was a little surprised there was no cop behind her! She drove (much safer) to the hospital and I told the doctors I had an ideation and that scared me.

No - I did not intend to self-harm. No - I did not want to harm others. No - I had no method in mind as I hadn't got 'that far' before calling for help. Still, ideation means a mandatory evaluation.

From that evening, I stayed three days/nights in a mental health facility. I met with the counselors. I found out my thyroid was out of whack. I took the meds they prescribed for that and for depression. I began to feel hope again.

Before I could leave, I had to set up an appointment with a therapist. That was one of the best decisions I made in the weeks before or after that night. The therapist helped me move forward in my life so very much!

I may have a long way to go, but I know I will make it. All because when I reached 'that place' I also reached out for help.

Anyone still reading this, please know that you matter to more people than you realize. Whenever you struggle, reach out to someone. If it's that bad of a day, be honest with whomever you do talk to. Don't sugarcoat it. Bad days are bad days, we all have them and real friends WANT to help. They just can't read your mind to know just how hard you're struggling.

I shocked a lot of people when I took my 'three day vacation'. I tease about it now because, as dark as it was that day, it was also the beginning of good returning to my life. That day was my reset button. I'd have preferred to go about it a different way, but lots of good did happen. Not the least of which was finding a good therapist.

Take heart. Even if you think you are all alone, there is someone in this world who cares about you and wants to help you. Reach out. If you don't know who that person is - call the hotline. You'll find out they are really staffed by caring people.  YOU ARE WORTH IT!

This is a Christian song, so it speaks of having a Higher Power in charge, without being 'in-your-face' about the Christianity. Still, I love, love, love this song. I cry every time I sing it. I need to hear these lyrics every once in a while - to remind me I'm ok the way I am - God still loves me. And I'm love-worthy.

I just thought I'd share a song that helps me on bad days.


"Free To Be Me"


At twenty years of age I'm still looking for a dream
A war's already waged for my destiny
But You've already won the battle
And You've got great plans for me
Though I can't always see

'Cause I got a couple dents in my fender
Got a couple rips in my jeans
Try to fit the pieces together
But perfection is my enemy
On my own I'm so clumsy
But on Your shoulders I can see
I'm free to be me

When I was just a girl I thought I had it figured out
My life would turn out right, and I'd make it here somehow
But things don't always come that easy
And sometimes I would doubt

'Cause I got a couple dents in my fender
Got a couple rips in my jeans
Try to fit the pieces together
But perfection is my enemy
On my own I'm so clumsy
But on Your shoulders I can see
I'm free to be me

And you're free to be you

Sometimes I believe that I can do anything
Yet other times I think I've got nothing good to bring
But You look at my heart and You tell me
That I've got all You seek
And it's easy to believe
Even though

'Cause I got a couple dents in my fender
Got a couple rips in my jeans
Try to fit the pieces together
But perfection is my enemy
On my own I'm so clumsy
But on Your shoulders I can see
I'm free to be me

This is the first time I've actively understood that I was trying to fill some void with junk food. I just got back from the break room and I've got a bagel, a bag of chips and a soda. And I wanted to get more, I just didn't have the money. As I was looking at the selections, I wanted it all. I wanted not just one cheeseburger, but all of them. Looking and the standard vending machine, I wanted ALL of my favorites, chips, chocolate, pastries. ALL of it.

I had a visceral sense of wanting to put all that food inside me. A small part of my brain said that it would mean stuffing the food in. The rest of my brain shouted - FINE, just gimme! It was almost a sense of panic that I couldn't get enough food!

I'm already morbidly obese and not active enough. Alright, truth - I barely move once I get home from work and handle what little household stuff needs handling. I'm also aware of dreading going home tonight. And of having to work late - that's normal and doesn't cause problems at home. Still, I want to hide from the work, hide from my coworkers and crawl into a small, protected corner and EAT and EAT and EAT until I fall asleep. It's taking everything I have to stay where I am, finish this sentence and force myself to return to my job.

What is going on? I didn't think I was a food-soother. I also don't remember getting particularly triggered. The only thing I can think of is that at lunch I ate too much. My coworker had brought bread and chicken salad so we could all make sandwiches. She'd made hers and I made mine. There was some salad left, but not much. There was only a heel slice left on the bread. She mentioned throwing it out and a voice inside me screamed, 'NO! Don't waste this, it's good!'. But, there was so little, it was hard to argue or offer to take it. So, I made a second sandwich out of what was left - and made sure to leave no waste.

I felt like a pig, then. Similarly to how I feel when I finish what my son doesn't want at dinner, or what my husband fixes for himself and decides is too much. I feel like a garbage disposal, but I do it willingly. I can always say no. The dogs at home hope I will, because they will likely get the leftovers. Still, lately, I find myself determined to eat it all. Every morsel. NO WASTE. I MUST eat it all.

The logical side of me knows that's wrong. It knows that I already have a slow metabolism and IBS. I shouldn't be just shoving food in. It knows I feel better when I watch what I eat (not too closely) and make healthy choices. It's just not loud enough to shout down that other part that says - MORE, GIMME, NOW!

I really do feel like Violet on 'Charlie and the Chocolate Factory'. I want it NOW, I want it ALL. And, yet, I know that's not my normal self. ::: shaking head :::

The bagel is gone. The chips were inhaled. I'm drinking the soda. Time to get back to work.

[(Edited to add - STRONG TW - sexual abuse - graphic sexual details)]

(Edited to add - STRONG TW - sexual abuse - graphic sexual details)

*** Trigger warnings: Promiscuity, date rape, sexual harassment ***


In my story, most of my childhood abuse was in the form of neglect and invalidation along with some sibling bullying. It was really pretty mild compared to what most here have survived. Still, what it set up in me was a feeling of emotional starvation. I read somewhere recently about Disinhibited Social Engagement Disorder. http://www.boredpanda.com/for-inktober-i-focused-on-mental-illness-and-disorders/?page_numb=2 this is the link (if it works). That sketch caught me off-guard. This was me. I would run straight to danger if I thought I had a chance of getting a hug or recognition or ANYTHING that could make me feel lovable.

*** Long pause. For someone who's usually quick and free with words, I am stuck. I have all these emotions running around. That's part of the reason I wanted to make this post - to force myself to focus, get the emotions under control. And the strangest thing is why I'm so triggered!

This is TMI and possibly triggering. I'm sorry on both counts, but it's a big part of what consumes my life, so I have to address it.

My husband EXPECTS sex tonight. I'm no longer sick (barely recovered). It's been over a week since my crying jags from depression. No therapy, no medication, just it's been long enough, you should be over it by now. Given these facts, in my husband's view, my excuses have dried up and it's time to put out. Not that he'll do anything more than be a miserable grouch if I say no. Well, he also might try to keep me up all night talking about why I don't enjoy sex with him anymore. May I refer you back to the first sentence in this paragraph? Pay close attention to the word expects. ::: Nods ::: Yes. With no loving attitude, no attention paid to me in any intimate, friendly or passionate way, I am EXPECTED to perform for him so that he may have sexual pleasure tonight.

And, to me, the most offending part (another TMI warning) is that I have to *** just for him to be capable of performing. He will declare himself hard as a rock, but we get into bed and I look over and he's flaccid. So, I sigh. And I roll over towards him and I begin performing for him. Once, a decade ago, I told him that I enjoyed ***. That was when it was a gift. Now, it's part of the job assignment and I HATE it. I HATE HAVING to do it. I hate even more that I have to *** ALONG with *** to get him ready. AND ALL HE'S DONE WHILE I DO THIS IS MAYBE, IF I'M LUCKY, TOUCH MY BACK A LITTLE - AND ONLY IF I REMOVED MY SHIRT FIRST. That's all the stimulation I get. Because if I allow more, he's going ***. He enjoys it, so he thinks I should and gets pissed at me when I demure away from that.

So, I'm triggered. I'm triggered because he doesn't see MY needs, while complaining about his own. He doesn't see that I've told him over and over and over again that my sexual account is empty for lack of deposits of kindness and tenderness. And that it's been overdrawn by these expectations AND by his insistence at touching me THE ONE PLACE I don't want to be touched.

I'm further triggered because, while he may be my husband, and he may know ALL about my past, he doesn't understand that the order these things in my past happened has affected me and my ability to feel sexually available. What do I mean by that? I mean that I need to know that, to my husband at least, I am more than a walking vagina. That the essential me matters more than that small space of flesh used to identify my gender. That my value to him extends past what I can do for him sexually.

And, because it's been over a week (yes a week. I got the same crap from him after having a child or having a surgery - when can we, since you can't this will you at least do THAT for me?), he expects physical action. And, because my social barometer is completely non-functional and I have nothing to refute what he tells me, I feel I must believe him when he tells me that ALL men feel this way and that any man I was with would EXPECT sex regularly. And, I might as well stay with the donkey I know then run off, break up the family and find out he was right - that all men are intimacy-inhibited and that I'll be expected to perform against my preference for the sake of peace in the relationship.

I don't want to do 'my job' for him tonight. Not because I'm angry, not because I'm depressed, not even because I am having trust issues with him lately. It's because, like so many boyfriends before him, and the rapists I've survived (yes plural), his complete lack of tenderness or sensuality leaves me cold. It leaves me doubting myself.

The few times I've felt him reach out to me, when he thought I was asleep, he may touch some parts of my body, but it seems to me to be in passing and only on his way to my vagina. Like he thinks he's going to find some switch down there that he can flip and I will be READY. No, not READY, but READY!! Or, worse, he'll ***. This is the source of my lack of trust. This, he took without permission, then later in the relationship, he tried to coerce me into volunteering. He's tried this often enough, I had to finally tell him that the next attempt would result in my filing for divorce. THAT's how serious I am about my 'NO'.

But, he's raped me before to get that. Before we were married. Yes, I married him anyway. I believed the pleading, tear-filled promises that it would never happen again. What HE meant was that he would never RAPE me again. That didn't mean he wouldn't try to coerce, convince, guilt, beg, and nearly force his way past my boundary. He's been begging and trying to coerce again. And, at the same time, he's been especially nice to me around  the children.

It seems to me that he's self-aware enough to be trying to get all the 'good-guy' credits he can so that if he pushes and I do leave him, it will shock everyone. The thing is, I'm telling my story here so I can practice telling it again. I'm learning to not be ashamed that I have a husband who'd rather poke the wrong hole than appreciate what I do offer (and offer willingly ANY time he shows me affection, tenderness, that other parts of my body have value). I'm teaching myself that it's OK to shine a light on what he wants to keep hidden as private.

So, I feel completely confused, completely unvalued, certainly unloved and I can't help but think of the men who raped me, sexually harassed me, treated me like my vagina couldn't even give me value. I can't help but think that I shared all this with my husband and he uses it against me instead of helping me heal and maybe learning that sex CAN be safe and fun and something more than just him poking me. Given that the men I had been with as a relationship before my husband were not exactly intimate, but one was very passionate, I am very unsure of my own attractiveness, my own ability, *, even my own desires! I know I'm straight, but beyond that, can't really tell my husband what pleases me.

AND, I can't even * to find out what does please me. He wants to watch and that makes me self-conscious. Then, I'm performing for HIS pleasure instead of exploring myself.

Before I met him, I was inhibited. I'd been in therapy over a year, trying to sort out how I could let a boss sexually harass me for years before putting a stop to it. I was trying to find out why my previous boyfriend was my pick, knowing he was completely unavailable and likely cheated on me. Why ALL my picks for partners were horrible, inappropriate, harmful and/or neglectful of me and my needs. And, when I told my therapist that I'd met someone, he was afraid for me. When I said I was quitting therapy and marrying the man, he flat out told me, 'You're not ready'.

And now I dread going home, because husband will be there. And he will expect sex tonight. And, because I said, 'let's go to bed early tomorrow night (had been up late two nights in a row), he now takes that as his invitation FROM me that we will definitely have sex tonight. Yes, that was enough for him.

Because, for hubby, either we are having sex or I better have a GOOD, MEDICALLY PROVABLE reason why not. Emotionally distant or unfulfilled doesn't even begin to qualify as a reason to say no.

And, I didn't get off the merry-go-round the last time it was this close to this position. And, we're back here quicker than I expected. And I'm just so tired of the cycle. And it really sucks that I may end up leaving my husband for sexual incompatibility. HE wants what he doesn't work for and I'm tired of doing all the work when I don't want it, only because he is my husband and he feels he has the right to expect. Yippie for me.

I never understood how people could keep friends their whole lives. Even if one moved away, they could and would keep in touch. Family, too! How does that work? I really do not have any idea how that happens.

Because my life experience has been that out of sight is out of mind. Even when I was a child and tried to write or call to stay in touch. It felt like those people who had been my friends (or their parents, or both) were glad I was finally out of their hair. I am 49 years old and I have NEVER got back in touch with someone who knew be back when and acted glad about the reconnection. Or, if they were even willing to reconnect, kept it superficial.

This is hard on me for several reasons. First, I wonder what is so horrible about me that they are glad to be rid of me and hesitant when I don't stay gone. Second, I know I do the right steps - write letters, but don't make them too deep, call sometimes, don't make plans for visits if I'm not certain I can follow through, be good to my word when I say I will do something. OK - I don't always do that last one. I get that letting people down WILL convince them to distance themselves from me, but that's why I stopped making promises.

Still, at 49, I have nobody that I would be sure I could call at 2AM and say - I'm in trouble, I need your help - and believe that they wouldn't hang up on me. I do have a few friends who know they could call ME, but I would be ashamed to call them.

It hurts, knowing that everyone outside my FOC would either let voicemail get the call or hang up hearing my voice. And, even the adults, I believe, roll their eyes when they see my number come up on caller ID.

You want to hear the funny part? I used to be skilled socially. I used to have friends everywhere I went. I could drop by their house, they could drop by mine. We could hang out every day one week and be too busy the next and it was all good. We enjoyed sharing our lives without overwhelming each other. It wasn't a lot of friends, but I was much happier about quality of friendships over quantity anyway.

And my reputation among ALL who knew me was that I am a friendly, sociable person. So much so that my brother asked me to join his Amway business - knowing I had the skill to talk with strangers and make them feel comfortable. And, back then, I did! I did grow his business for him. When it wasn't fun, I quit, but it was fun for a while.

Still, even as a young adult, I heard so many people I'd met talk about their childhood friends. Then, I'd meet those friends and realized that the friendship hadn't ended when so-and-so moved away. And I had NO idea how that happened. I was in contact with ZERO childhood friends anymore. When I tried to find them - before Facebook was a thing - I couldn't. When I'd visit the old town/city/berg whatever, they'd moved or weren't home or were too busy to sit down and talk for a minute. ALL of them. Even if it had only been a year since being in touch.

Now, with Facebook, I've found a couple from high school. The thing is, only five mattered to me and none of them have I found. The ones I HAVE found were the jocks, socials and bandies - it's the ones who were actively mean to me or who treated me as invisible. So, they want to be Facebook friends now? Whatever.

For this reason, I don't consider friendships held together by Facebook connections and posts as real friends. They aren't! If they don't know or want to know my email, my phone number or my address, they are not trying to be friends. That may sound harsh, but I have enough superficial junk in my life, I don't need more. If I ask and they don't want to share theirs, they gave me their answer and I was right - we're social media associates, NOT friends.

Anyway, this post started because I'm mystified that there are people in this world who want to AND do stay in touch with real friends they've known their whole life. I can't even stay in regular touch with family with out feeling like I'm pushing myself on them when they'd really rather I left them alone.  I don't know how they do that. I don't know what lesson I missed. :: sigh :: My husband is right - how can you know what you don't know?

So, as my friends of my young 20's have drifted away, too busy with their own families and other friends to miss me, I've allowed myself to drift away. I decided I wasn't going to CHASE anyone and BEG for friendship. But, this is now a very lonely place. While I love my husband, I don't necessarily want to spend EVERY evening listening to his same stories OVER and OVER again. While I absolutely LOVE my child, I do need breaks from him and his chattering as well.

I have noticed that I talk a lot less then I used to. I really type here more than I talk anywhere with anyone. I think I've lost those social skills I used to have. And that's sad. And lonely. One good thing is coming out of all this, though. I AM a better listener than I ever used to be. :: shrug :: Hopefully, I will figure it out in time to have AND keep friends into my golden years. Hopefully. Yes, I do still hold out hope.

So, I got a call Friday night. Mom. Usually only calls when she needs something. But, this time, all cheerful, she invites me and my family and asks me to invite Stepdaughter and her family, to lunch. Also there will be my brother (the GC), his wife, youngest daughter, daughter's new husband and her son (brother's only grandchild).

Now, my family haven't always been nice to my husband, stepdaughter or step-granddaughter. Being related to the invisible one can have that effect, I guess. But, I answer Mom that yes, DS and I will be there, but hubby already has plans (which he did). I call stepdaughter and invite her. HER hubby has to work, but she and daughter will come.

When confirming, and at my hubby's prompting, I ask Mom if GC Bro knows I'm coming. Having me there was HIS idea. Really? Curious. The paranoid in me wants to know if he's being a flying monkey for Dad, or if my little snap at Dad (thanking GC bro for forwarding a Dad letter because I didn't realize Dad HAD included me until later) made Bro realize how often I'm left out, forgotten, overlooked, ignored or plain-out snubbed.

The funny part to me was that Mom sounded all lovely and generous and happy when SHE called me. She was the Grand Duchess when inviting me. When I called to confirm, and ask the question above, she sounded dull, tired and bored. She wasn't the magnanimous one after all, and my question was direct enough she had to admit it. I wasn't in the mood for that drama, so I got off the phone quick. (WOW, I really did!). Hubby then informed me that both calls had put me into performance mode (what I call it when I act the expected way - sweet entertainer - in person or on the phone with family).

I was worried about falling into performance mode at the luncheon. I especially didn't want to hurt or embarrass my stepdaughter with it. I did do some 'performing' and was a little embarrassed about that. Stepdaughter also got to add to the conversation and niece made that easier - since they are pretty close in age.

The main thing is that my daughter and granddaughter were able to hold their own with my 'Absolutely Fabulous' FOO. Everyone enjoyed the time together and I even enjoyed myself for the most part. Mom declared the visit a success (like there's a way to FAIL having lunch together as a family?). As far as I can tell, bro was being sincere. I'll take that at face value.  And count it good.

I've heard such mixed reactions to dreams - some wonderful, some scary, all emotional. I sleep well enough considering I was diagnosed with Sleep Apnea years ago and still don't use the breather machine at night. But, I don't remember my dreams. None of them. It's more of a shock if one DOES make it to waking memory.

The last dream I remember was an odd one. I only remember being baffled by it. Not it's content anymore. I remember some dreams I had as a child, especially the recurring nightmares. I remember telling my husband or friends about some in recent years, but don't even remember what I said, or the dreams themselves.

I can somewhat pinpoint when I actively started to try to not remember them. In college, some friends were dabbling in the occult. One used to swear that he would have visions if he looked at a window at night - the mirror presented by lights inside made him see things about the people he was with. It freaked him out and he didn't like it. So, he stopped looking at windows after dark. He wouldn't tell us what he saw, but we could tell he'd been shaken and scared. Since I'd known what my dreams were filled with - I didn't want any part of remembering anymore.

During those high school and college years, I used to have premonition dreams. Lots of them. They'd be snippets, not long but detailed enough to verify later. For me, they were usually conversations I would have with someone. Several times, they were conversations with people I hadn't met. It was disconcerting to meet the person and realize I'd dreamt about them. Sometimes, I'd be in the middle of 'the' conversation. I'd know it wasn't deja vu, but I'd realize I had had this conversation before. This went on until about 15 years ago - about the time my thyroid condition was diagnosed. ? Humm? Since then, I've only had a few that I remember.

Still, it's either those premonition conversations or scary 'being-a-Mom' nightmares that I remember. And I don't have those very often that I know about. So, most nights, I'm aware that I must dream, but I remember absolutely nothing. Not even a residual sense of emotion. Just nothing. And I wonder if that is a problem.

I'm posting this in adult onset because this question didn't become a trigger until adulthood. Now, it's causing problems in my marriage that I don't know how to handle right now.

Yes, hearing the question 'How are you' is actually a trigger for me. I have to remember most people don't mean to, and I KNOW my husband doesn't mean to trigger me. But, because of all the years of my father asking that question - then not doing a * thing about it if I wasn't fine, then getting mad when I gave up and started saying 'Fine' all the time, I get triggered by it. I wonder if it's just an empty question or if the asker wants an honest answer. I know that outside my family it's a politeness and I answer a generic 'Well, how are you?' type thing.

But, when my husband or a sibling or someone who's supposed to be close enough to me to care asks - I get triggered. I don't know whether to be honest or not. If I'm not, I feel like I'm cheating them out of my genuine self. If I am, I feel like I've burdened them unnecessarily - unless I'm genuinely fine that day.

I've tried to explain to my husband that my answers may seem to conflict if asked at different parts of the day. Because I will answer with the time period that gives me the best chance of honestly saying, 'Fine.' That may be 10 minutes or 5 days. The thing that is causing conflict with hubby and me is that my face and mood won't match my answer. He can see that and it frustrates him. Understandably, he's asking because he's seen my mood and wants to know what's going on. If I won't talk to him, he can't help. And he really does want to help!

He's been especially caring since the incident with my father leaving me out of the loop. He knows why that hurt so badly - he was left out of the loop on critical information before his mother died. When I told him about some of the other times I've been left out to dry or kept at arms' length by my father, only to be asked how are you regularly, he understood finally why it bothers me.

But, how else is he supposed to find out how I'm doing? I don't volunteer the information very often. Changing the question to 'How was your day?' doesn't help much, either. Again, if you can't do anything about it, why ask? I end up keeping my answers generic and bland.

There is the part where he (my husband) spent years telling me he's sick of hearing about my work place. He didn't want to know anymore. So, I couldn't talk about that without feeling like I was burdening him or ignoring his boundaries. Keep silent enough and it becomes a habit. Changing a habit is hard. While he has changed his boundary to allow me to talk about work again, I still see his discomfort and irritation. I'm still not encouraged to speak my mind about how I am feeling and what I am thinking regarding work.

Which leaves me in the place of always feeling triggered when asked 'How are you?'. I don't know what piles of * are hidden in front of me if I tell the truth. I don't know what piles of * are around the corner if I don't - and that time he really does want to know.

I've just thought of one solution. He is famous for asking 'Do you really want to know?' if what he has to say isn't pleasant. That blew up in his face with my FOO once - they said they did and he told them, hurting their feelings which caused them to lash out at him - LOUDLY. Now, it's a bit of a cautionary joke - if anyone asks that question, consider carefully before answering yes. :: Nodding :: Yes. I think I'll ask that when hubby asks how I'm doing and the honest answer isn't great. That could help take the trigger out of the question.

Once again - thank you for this website. Just being able to organize my thoughts, review what I know to be true and how I genuinely feel, has been a tremendous help.

I'm going to start a new journal now. I've fulfilled the purpose of the first one. I have recovered a lot of my childhood memories. There are still huge chunks, but I'm also almost 50, so that's to be expected somewhat. I feel more confident that I remember who I have been and who I am. I remember better now why some of that changed or got stuffed down.

Now, I'm going to attempt to weave all this together into the story of me. I will try to forgive the hurts, at least in my own heart. I will try to learn the lessons I can from what I went through, so the pain doesn't go on into the next generation. I will do the work to build into myself the assurance that I am not a victim but a survivor. And that at no time did I deserve these things that happened to me. I will build my faith in God as that is important to me.

Further, I will use this space to vent out the poisons of the abuse and the reinforcements that come my way at the hands of my FOO and the world at large. I will vent that poison so that it doesn't infect me further, or infect my FOC. There will likely be trigger warnings at the top of many of my posts here.

This website is saving my life and with it my marriage and the mental and emotional health of my son. There are no words to describe HOW powerful that help and this community have been and remain. Thank you to the dedicated staff and hard-working folks who make this website possible.

I've been dealing with my anger as I realize all the little ways my father abandoned me after divorcing my mother. It got worse when he remarried. Somehow, I've been cast as the family misfit, unworthy, forgotten.

Over the years, I've come to accept that I was last on the list in my father's eyes. Not just because I was youngest, I'd managed to move down below my step-siblings and my niece. Just because, I guess, it was easier for him that way. I hate it, it hurts and it makes me angry, but I've come to accept it.

I thought it might change a little when I had a son. It seemed that it was changing for a while. He came to see my son (when he was 2 months old). He called more often. I would go into debt to visit him, causing problems for me at home. But, the phone calls tapered off. The letters stopped. I'd get little 'How are you' emails once in a while, but not much else. I was doing most of the calling, to keep him up to date on my son's life. I was happy to do it, I do believe that a child needs to know his/her grandparents if they're alive.

See, it's not like there's anything overt going on. I was just a low priority. He didn't treat me bad (except that one time after I got married when he and his wife reamed me for an hour for doing the marriage my way and denying him the right to walk me down the isle). He just wasn't / isn't there.

But, this week has been a really harsh one. The reality of where I stand with him is now crystal clear. I simply do not matter. All his talk of worrying about me is junk. He worries because he doesn't talk to me, he doesn't find OUT how I'm doing. If he'd been calling, he'd know that things are actually pretty good right now in my life. Instead, he sits in his house, states away and worries. And schedules a heart catheterization. And forgets to mention it to me - as an upcoming thing or as a done deal. Nothing. And I talked to him around Christmas (his birthday is then). Nope, nothing. I find out only because I emailed him two days ago, asking how he was - since I hadn't heard anything in so long, anything real.

'I get my heart checked at the end of the month and I've had shots for my eyes again.' (barely changed from actual verbiage).

What? Really? Are you kidding me? Do you think so little of me that I don't deserve to know my father had surgery? Did you not think I could handle the news? Did you honestly think I wouldn't care? Well, that last may just be a self-fulfilling prophesy only because I'm so hurt.

No follow up, no 'it was a catheterization and all went well, we've just got a follow up to do'.

Too angry and at work and have to get my job done... Will write more when I can.

By the way -my husband is a hero. He held me and encouraged me and helped me for most of the night. He understands being abused and abandoned by family.

I've been working hard to root out ALL of the causes of my ucPTSD. I think I've uncovered most if not all of them.

I spent decades blaming Mom exclusively. That wasn't fair. Yes, we did fail to bond properly and there were abandonment and neglect issues, but she was only one of multiple sources. Dad had some failure to bond, some neglect and I do now believe some resentment towards me. My GC brother was a bully, and because of the neglect from the parents and his GC status, operated without consequences most of the time.

I was also bullied at school, made fun of, occasionally fought. The times that really hurt were when my brother joined 'the other side' against me.

All that conditioning led me to put myself into self-destructive or victimizing situations.

My dilemma now is that I want to get back in touch with my family. I haven't spoken to anyone since Christmas and then only Dad. I do love my family and I do want relationship with them. The old tendencies are there, but not as bad as when I was a child. I believe that with a perspective change, and a guard around my heart, I can be a part of this family. I find myself longing to have the courage to pick up the phone and call them. Not because I need anything, not because of guilt or obligation, but because I do care and do want to know how they are doing. I just don't know if I'm strong enough yet to hold my tongue and keep myself from rehashing these things with them. I already know that would not produce any good results.

How do I try to be a part of this family without the drama of dredging up the past? How do I let it sit and be what it is and speak with them in the now only? Since I am a freeze/flight personality, should I even put myself into that position? If not, how do I deal with the longing to be in touch, a part of the group? How do I be sincere, in the current times, and not play-act to gloss over my desire to question them? ::: shaking my head as I type this :::  I don't think I'm ready yet.

Thank you for giving us a place to try to work these things out.