my letters - trigger warning

[somnambulist]

Starting a thread for me to try and get in touch with my feelings, as I go through therapy and integrate my experiences.  I just had a really intense therapy session and it unlocked memories for me, memories of a painful time but somehow the act of remembering made me feel alive, and that made me happy, in spite of the pain.  Happiness isn't something I feel often.  I plan to periodically post letters to this thread to vent and to help me allow myself to feel differently about my trauma.  I feel like if I can do this, then I am sincerely making an effort to help myself.  And if I help myself, then I can sincerely make an effort to help other people, which is something I want to be able to do.

This will contain harsh language, details of emotional flashbacks, details of physical, emotional, sexual abuse, and various other triggers - I'm not going to censor myself as I try to work through my defenses.  Please accept my apology if any of this triggers any negative feelings - I hope to give you ample warning so you can choose to look elsewhere if you need to.



Dad,

I still feel the heat and the welts on my legs from where you beat me that day.  You always told me if I cry you will hit me again, so I learned not to cry.  I can feel the pain in my back from your leather belt, the skin gives off heat and my stomach is hurting.  I can still feel the crooked bump in my septum where you broke my nose, and I didn't cry.  I didn't run and I didn't fight back because you terrified me.  I think you were terrified too, but it just made you swing harder.

I remember every time you hit me, every time you made me stand there while you brainwashed me for hours.  I remember every time you accused me of lying, told me I wasn't abused, you weren't abusive, every time you created an impossible situation for me and trapped me so you could have an excuse to take your anger out on me.  I will never be daddy's little girl again.

I remember crying as I watched you punch my brother in the throat and throw him through the wall, and I remember you yelling as you made us put up new sheetrock and repair the drywall you destroyed with your rage.  I remember countless other acts of violence.  I remember how mad you would get at my brother because he had a speech impediment and a nervous tic, and he couldn't sit still when he was afraid or anxious and you viewed that as defiance.  I'll never forget the spark of anger in his eyes when he got old enough to stand up for himself and the way that set you off.  You were so scary to me then.

Through you I learned the meaning of helplessness, hopelessness.  I was a prisoner in my own home, and I was isolated and alone.  I remember sleep deprivation, being held at gunpoint, threatened for existing.  I learned that you had been abused and I wept for you.  I couldn't reconcile what was happening to me and my brother, and I couldn't believe my own father didn't love me, so I fell apart.  My mind fell apart.  I learned how to make you happy and focused on that, and when I fell short and noticed your disappointment, I punished myself so you wouldn't have to.  I think you may have softened then, but I couldn't tell for sure.  I tried desperately to be good enough for you.

You taught me how men should act, you gave me my initial impression of where men and women fit on the hierarchy of life.  You taught me to please and made me feel worthless.  I guess I have you to thank for all the times I got * when I didn't want it, when I couldn't handle it.  I've forgotten more than I remember, at least until recently.

But now I am learning.  I am realizing that I froze up when I should have fought back or run away.  And I'm remembering how it felt to be that scared little girl, alone in my own private *.  And as I remember, I'm taking control.  I'm changing the narrative.  I get to choose how I respond to these feelings, these flashbacks.  And while I can understand and empathize with your pain intellectually, I can never forgive you and will never love you again.  I am learning to love again, and you don't deserve an ounce of it.  I no longer need your conditional acceptance, your pretense, your approval.  I am letting go of you for good.

I am not a liar, I do not exaggerate or gossip.  I was not a bad kid and I never deserved your abuse.  I would have loved you with my whole heart if you would have let me.  Daddies are supposed to love their daughters, protect them, not strip them naked of their sense of self-worth and safety.

For as long as I live, you will be dead to me.  I am learning to cry again and to embrace all the parts of me that went into hiding when you hurt me.  I am on my way to being whole again, and I'm doing it without you.

[keepfighting]

dear somnambulist,



a brave and crystal clear letter.

I am sorry you had to watch and endure so much pain and violence and betrayal. 

My heart bleeds for the little girl who had to endure all this and was even denied to cry. That is so horrible, so inhumane, such a double betrayal.

I am glad you are learning to cry now and hope you'll be able to also shed all those tears that were denied the little girl back then.

Healing on your journey! I am glad you included so many positive statements about yourself in the letter. May they keep you going strong!

and best wishes, kf

[schrödinger's cat]

I don't know what to say.    How on earth did you survive? You must be such a strong person. I'm impressed by how articulate and self-aware you are about all this. I wish you every last little bit of happiness imaginable. You absolutely deserve it.

[Rain]

I am learning to love again, and you don't deserve an ounce of it.

Thank you for writing this letter, somnambulist.

You deserved to be loved, protected and cherished; to be daddy's little girl.   Not his punching bag.

And, yet you wept for him at the abuse he went through long ago.   You just wanted to be loved, and to love him, as a child would.

I am so sorry for your loss.   It is an astonishing letter.

[Sandals]

  S - you've always been worthy of love - both being loved and loving yourself. I am so sorry that you had to go through all of this, it must have been terrifying for you as a child.

Thank you for sharing this; I'm proud to be here with you on your journey onward.

[somnambulist]

Thanks everyone.  I wish one letter was enough.  I still feel his voice inside my head, I still feel weak and defeated.  Today wasn't such a good day, so your encouragement is timely.  I recognize what I'm experiencing as an emotional flashback, I just don't see any way to get away from the triggers without drastically changing my life right now - leaving my job or leaving my spouse or both.  I just need time to process - now I have started to be able to feel again, but I haven't developed the muscles to break out of the feelings quite yet until lots of emotional damage is done.

[Rain]

We cannot take away the hurt, S ...but we are here with you.   You're not alone.

And, you are not weak.   Not defeated.    You may feel it, but your courage and strength come through in what you write, who you are.

You can do this.   

[Badmemories]

poignant post somnambulist!

Kudos to You for seeking healing! it is a long difficult road... I can tell You are strong like most of Us
Keep on Keeping on! 

[somnambulist]

I'm sitting in a sports bar, typing on my work computer.  I didn't drive into the office because I couldn't motivate myself to do it.  I've had a couple of beers and am likely going to drink several more before I leave today.  But I'm working, doing what I can to finish what's on my plate.

I gave notice and I'm down to one week left at my job.  I've made a really positive impression and like 50 people came together to setup a going away party for me.  That's really nice and makes me feel special, but it also overwhelms me.

I can't work right now.  I have done really well for myself and I'm quite aware of how lucky and privileged I am to have come up from nothing with my hand-me-down clothes and my lack of resources to eat lunch most days when I was in school as a kid and my time when I didn't have a place to live and had to scrounge up whatever food I could find from the dumpster behind the diner I worked at some nights.  Now I'm in a place where I have saved enough money to take up to a year off and still take care of my family without sacrificing our quality of life in the process.  Very lucky indeed.

I'm pushing through and taking some time off to heal, to get to know myself, to cry, to create.  I want to write and I want to make music.  I am having such a hard time right now because I don't know where I'm going to live in a few weeks, but I know we'll find a place and make it all work.  I just really need to get out of here, it's too much, just too much.

I really want to heal.  I just really really want to feel better.  I find myself feeling suicidal almost every day.  I fight it, I find ways to get myself busy and to try and push forward.  But I just need to get through all this.

I'm exhausted.