Peace-Harmony Progress Forum

My life as a child was filled with fear. Not fear of the dark, or fear of receiving a poor grade in school. My fear was more primal. My fear was that every day would be my last. I spent every day struggling to survive and live with the knowledge that at any time I would be killed by a boy who lived in our house. To this day the feeling of his fingers around my throat, or his arm on my throat as he shoved my body against the wall, is felt, everyday. I cannot pull my blankets up around me when I get into bed at night. Even the feel of a light, cotton sheet on or near my neck brings back the fear. I can simply slide the sheet down, away from my throat but the images, terror and unfathomable fear is relived, everyday.

I was raised in middle-class areas. We moved a lot, though a new house did not matter to me; every time our new house was still filled with abuse, alcoholism, and chaos. Yet, to me it was very normal. I have very, very few memories of my childhood. I cannot remember what my brother and sisters looked like. I do not recognize myself in childhood pictures. I do not remember a single birthday, anyone else’s birthday nor mine. I cannot remember a single Christmas yet in pictures I can see a wonderfully decorated home filled with beautiful decorations, presents and people. I am told they are my family.

I would learn later in my life, much later, that it is not uncommon for victims of trauma to suffer from memory loss. I selected the word “suffer” intentionally. If you knew me, you would be surprised because I would never acknowledge that I have suffered. However, the loss of essentially all childhood memories still brings me pain; simply because I want to remember my sisters and brother. I want to remember school, one birthday, or one holiday. I want to remember one kind word or a soft hug. Yet, the memories I do have are of being yelled at, humiliated, violated, strangled, and raped. I have many of these memories that are powerful in many ways. What strikes me most is my determination and basic, but, strong, primal need to live. I wanted to stay alive so badly. This is a very strong memory for me.

In addition to being strangled and raped for over seven years by this boy who was about six years older than me and living in our house, was my father, a very cruel alcoholic. He brought us up in a very cult-like manner. He taught us that checking out books from a library was just one way that others would know more about you, about what you liked, etc. This was a very bad thing, a weakness. Imagine being seven years old and not being able to check out a library book because people were watching me, to find out what I liked, to get to me and to be mean to me. Emotional, physical, sexual abuses and more filled our childhood.

For me, I did not start to heal until I had a few flashbacks when I was about 20 years old. Fortunately, I had a wonderful boyfriend who kept telling me that it was not normal to not remember my entire childhood; it was not normal to not be able to say my adopted brother’s name (he was my abuser and I literally could not say his name). My family always teased me for never having a good memory and for being too sensitive. So this, combined with being brainwashed into never talking about the family to any outsider, just seemed normal. I was blessed that my boyfriend believed in therapy and knew that my insomnia and my night terrors and flashbacks were not okay to live with.

He believed in me more than I believed in myself. Thank goodness, something in me believed in him. I went to a therapist and that therapist believed me. That was the start of my healing. My therapist told me that I should work on giving myself permission to believe that what happened to me was real and very, very wrong. I should not have had to endure it and more importantly, none of it was my fault. My therapist encouraged me to start going to bookstores and looking to survivor books. There was no pressure to buy a book, just to be comfortable with the knowledge that I am a survivor.

It was such a new concept for me. It took me so many trips to Barnes and Nobles before I actually bought the most wonderful book. I think it was called, “The Courage to Heal”. I still did not believe that all of this applied to me but was willing to be open to it; I had always believed that it was my fault. Believing in yourself, that it is not your fault and that you deserve to reach out to others, is the most life-changing part of my recovery. Even though I did not believe it yet, I still went along with it. In time, the truth slowly sank in with the help of my therapist, reading, journaling, and just being open to the idea that it did happen and it was not my fault. It was such a big step for me. Once I started to read the book, I could not put it down and I could not stop crying. I vomited a few times as well because I knew this book was written for me.

Talking about it made it easier to deal with as time went on. I do take anti-depressants and anti-anxiety medications. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. However, I no longer have shame. I no longer have low self-esteem. I no longer have fear. I deal with automatic reactions of “fear,” such as things touching my neck, making me remember being strangled; but that is different. I know that I am not being strangled. The feeling of anything on my neck is only a trigger. Triggers I still deal with but I know I will not deal with them forever.

Now I have found what truly helps heal me.

At first, I had to fake it, but, eventually, I truly came to believe in myself with the help of a good therapist. I still have a very deep faith in God.
I will stand and speak with others who have had to endure what I have and maybe even worse. I do not know who I was as a child except that I was afraid, desperate to live, and wanting to be quiet to survive. I know now that it is time to speak up, to no longer be quiet, and to speak for those who cannot.
I now realize that I am strong, able to help others, and determined to prevent abuse of any kind. I now know who I am. Believe that you are strong because you are, and in time you will come to see just how truly strong you have always been.
This makes me whole and heals me. It is an on-going process but it can be enlightening, freeing, and so empowering.
Please, just take that first step; take it for yourself, now, today. Call someone or an organization for support and tell them your story.
Be kind to yourself. You will be believed.
Journaling helps. I did not journal every day, but it does help. Especially writing down my nightmares, dreams, and discussing them with my therapist.
Have something “safe and comforting” that you can touch, that will usually help to bring you mentally back to a safe place, back to reality. I carry my Great Aunt’s Rosary that she gave to me. The cool touch of the stones comforts me and makes me feel safe if I have a flashback or a bad memory. It instantly brings me back to the present and to a safe, comfortable place.
You might have to try a few therapists. The first one that I went to told me that the severe abuse I endured was over 30 years ago and I needed to let it go and move on. That was my only session with that therapist! You deserve to be treated with respect, expect it, and demand it.

Best Wishes!

Rebecca Dixon

http://strong-everyday-heroes.podomatic.com/

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My mother started taking barbiturates when I was seven and became a prescription drug addict. She made Anna Nicole Smith look good when her addiction became ten times worse. By the time I was fourteen, and living alone with her, she was never coherent all her waking minutes, and violent. She took a lot of drugs to go to sleep; drugs when she woke up; and drugs all day long. The only thing she ate was what I spoon fed her as she lay on the couch. She was barely able to walk when she was so drugged up. I experienced violence, emotional and physical, on a daily basis. She would throw hot cups of coffee on me. On some nights, she would put her hands around my neck and try to strangle me. I would scream into her marble like eyes, while trying to pry her hands from my neck. She would eventually let go of my throat and come out of her trance, or whatever state she had been in. She made me sleep next to her where my father had slept. She would have to put a leg over me or have my back touching hers while we slept. I would carry or drag her up the stairs every night when she felt it was time to go to bed. Looking back, I do not know how I managed going to school and swim practice. I know I couldn’t wait to go to school, to be around coherent people I could have conversations with. My mother did not say a coherent word the two years I lived alone with her.

I developed a sense of humor, which I have to this day. That is how I coped during those years. Also swim practice, I am sure, was a big coping mechanism. I know laughing was and is one of my greatest pleasures. However, the abuse caught up with me in my early twenties. My anxiety got high enough to close my throat. I couldn’t make a sound, let alone speak. I shut down emotionally. I actually froze, being so scared I would be like my mother. But I always saw a light at the end of the tunnel. I felt a strong thread inside of me that would eventually pull up my old personality.

I started seeing a psychiatrist. He put me on anti-anxiety medication so I could at least talk during the sessions. I worked hard with him for four years and got to where I could work at a job where I had to converse with people. Prior to this, I worked cleaning office buildings, etc., where I was not required to talk to anyone. Two weeks after starting a job at 7-11, I was raped and sodomized by my co-worker when we went into the back storage room to count the money. When the rape was over, I went into a blind rage. I felt "how dare this man touch me without my consent, let alone rape and sodomize me.” I went straight down to the police station and pressed charges. I believe I acted this way because of my involvement in sports and my competitiveness.

The first two weeks after the rape I just lay in bed. Then one day I got angry and thought "I am just hurting myself and letting the guy continue to rape me in my head." My laying in bed was not affecting him. That is when I made a decision to forgive him. I did this for myself, not for him. I got rid of the anger inside me, for it was paralyzing me, and I got rid of any negative feelings. I took a course at the local college and played a lot of racquetball. Sports were and still are my saviors. Forgiving him did not mean I would not fight tooth and nail to get him convicted. I could go on and enjoy my life while still going through the court process. It took the jury 20 minutes to find him guilty of rape, sodomy, and lewd and lascivious acts. I could not have lived with myself if I had not pressed charges.

I have to say the rape was not as traumatic as it would have been had I not gone through the abuse with my mother. I am estimating the rape took about a half hour; whereas, my mother’s daily abusing me went on for years. By putting both experiences side by side the rape pales in comparison. I was never good at writing of any kind, including my feelings. Maybe I was too impatient. Instead, what I did was verbalize my feelings when by myself. My feelings were released, not on paper, but vocally. My therapist thought I obtained the same results.

Five months after the trial I got a job as the social director of a racquetball club. The trial, in a way, had given me my voice back as I testified for justice. I also toured on the amateur circuit. Before moving from NJ in 1981, I was ranked first in the county where I had lived and second in the country for women thirty and over. My doubles partner and I were ranked first in the state of New Jersey.

I believe one can find some positive in any situation and everything happens for a reason. My mother's abuse made it easy for me to handle the rape and the trial. The trial gave me back my voice and was, thus, hired at the racquetball club. When I had moved, I worked at another racquetball club where I met so many people. These people became the base of my clientele for my Tax Consultation business, which I still have 26 years later.

To summarize how I coped: I forgave, developed a sense of humor, verbalized my feelings at night on a daily basis, was in therapy, and did a lot of physical activity. Believing there is a positive in every situation will not work for all, or may not be understood. I just know that is part of my thinking that has gotten me to where I am today. I love my life today and that is all that matters.

Karen Strandskov

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I was raped at age 26. I saw a therapist that first year, but found it very frustrating to get in touch with my emotions through talking. I tried group therapy but quit after one session because I was clear that I didn’t want to hear others’ stories of abuse at that time.

The earliest effective healing for me was through a program called Model Mugging, now known as IMPACT and offered in many larger cities. As I’m very physical and connect most deeply on a kinesthetic level, I was quite transformed through these classes that helped me to gain confidence and personal power.

It was also healing for me to work as a volunteer at the local Rape Crisis Center as I began to see myself in others and developed a desire to heal those pieces of myself. I also created a women’s assertiveness training program, which I offered at schools, businesses and in the community. his path of service was a healthy way for me to direct my energy and connect with others who were on a healing path.

My deepest healing has happened over the past 4-5 years and what has worked well for me is positive affirmations and clear intention setting about my healing path; this learning came mostly from my training as a Science of Mind Practitioner. This led to the identification of the man who raped me (after 14 years) and my ability to make a statement in court and see justice served. It also introduced me to EMDR therapy, which helped me to unearth some of the emotion that has long felt trapped at a physical level. Through this therapy I’ve also become desensitized to much of the emotion that was charged around my rape situation.

I’ve done and continue to do doll therapy in which I create dolls to represent the parts, patterns or behaviors I’d like to heal. I journal with those pieces to learn more about what they need and then create a talisman which holds the strength to move forward in a good way. This therapy has been very revealing and has helped me to know that the fear and the anxiety and other uncomfortable emotions are not who I am, but are parts that need my attention and compassion.

Lastly, I have journalled since I was a young child, much before the rape. My writing has been my one consistent outlet that allowed me the space and freedom to express what I needed to, when I needed to, and helped me to see myself more clearly.

Anne R. Heck

www.anneheck.com

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I started therapy with a court-mandated therapist after I pressed charges against my abuser (my father). While the therapy was helpful, it wasn't helpful to me that it was ordered, that it was mandatory. After so many years of not having a say in my life, I needed to make the choice to go to therapy. Even though the therapist was good, the element of choice was so vital that I couldn't tolerate continuing beyond the mandate.

I then chose a new therapist, and that worked well. Self-referring to therapy was wonderful for me, despite the usual stresses of trying to find someone who could see me, that I could afford, etc. That therapist had an approach that really worked for me: I could decide what we talked about on one session, and she directed discussion the next. Additionally, every week I had "homework" - I needed to write about a topic she wanted to know more about. It gave me the ability to express myself creatively, gave me time to build up trust in her with each assignment, and I often made better connections at home while writing than in her office. She, sadly, was an intern, and therapy had to stop after about 6 months because she left.

After her, I spent three years self-treating. I followed my instinct as to what needed to be thought through, and I wrote a lot. For me, creative expression has been VITAL to my recovery. I journaled, I wrote poetry, I did photography. I read a lot of books on PTSD and incest survivors, and that acted as a guiding force to keep me cohesive and on-track. Though I struggled a lot doing it on my own, I was also able to tackle some very dark things without the hindrance of having to build up a trust relationship first. For me, doing at least a couple cycles of processing while on my own was very important. I chose to heal, I chose to express myself, and I chose to face my darkness. It was, and still is, very powerful. (there were two short-term therapists in the time I was mostly on my own, but didn't last more than a couple months due to finances, etc.)

For the last four years, I have been back in therapy. My therapist doesn't lead me through my processing, she's a guide and a cheerleader. I still do a majority of my "work" outside of her office. I relay to her any difficulties I have in making connections or processing, and I can work on readjusting to a normal life after such a hellish childhood. I've built up enough trust that I can connect emotionally to my past, but I don't have to unless I want to. Having the choice, guidance, and support means everything to me.

As far as therapy, the most important thing for me has been that therapists have been guides, not teachers. Being helped when I'm stuck rather than led through the processing cycle gives me choice, a bit of control, and gives me the self-satisfaction of knowing that I'm healing myself.

I've been in inpatient psychiatric care three times. I absolutely loathe it. Beyond the first day or so of getting me somewhere safe and back on track, it's actually more of a hindrance/trigger to me. But, if I am suicidal and am worried I might follow through, I'll go in for a couple days to get me back on track quickly and strongly.

I've been on several medications over the years. SSRI's (the class of drug with prozac, paxil, etc.) don't work for me at all. They actually make my skin go numb and cause visual hallucinations, so I can't take them at all. I tried the anti-depressants with a norepinephrine component (wellbutrin, effexor) with mixed success. Wellbutrin made me feel great, but made me completely unable to sleep. Effexor did nothing for me at all. Tricyclic medications (nortriptyline, mirtazapine) have been the most effective at anti-depressant activity. They have a lot of side-effects, but I've been on them for the past 2.5 years, and they've helped tremendously to keep me more even keeled.

For anti-anxiety meds, I can't take the "heavier" ones like klonopin. They just make me drowsy. I've tried an experimental use of a beta blocker (inderal), which helped my anxiety, but had side efffects that were too severe to continue (rage symptoms, of all things!). Tricyclics provide enough support that I don't need anti-anxiety meds most days, but I have a tiny dose of xanax (0.25mg) to use as needed. I barely ever use it.

Medication works best for me when it's just an aid. It doesn't make me feel perfect, it lightens the load. This way I can still gauge the effect therapy is having and what I need to work on, but I'm not so overloaded that I can't cope.

Treatments which have been most helpful:

- "homework" in therapy

- Dialectical Behavior Therapy (DBT)

- a combination of Cognitive Behavior Therapy (CBT) and psychoanalysis

- selective desensitization for anxiety and trauma triggers

- creative expression

- medication used solely as partial symptom relief (rather than going for complete symptom relief)

- talking with friends, forcing myself to maintain social relationships to keep myself from isolating

- Nutritional supplements: B-complex vitamins are an essential part of my treatment. I take them every day! Anti-depressants sap your normal B-vitamin stores, so it's doubly good to take a supplement if you're on medication

- regular schedule: having a regular wake-up, eating, and sleeping schedule makes for good consistency. It's comforting to know when things will happen.

- sunlight/phototherapy: helps combat Seasonal Affective Disorder (SAD), and is a natural way to elevate mood

- gentle exercise, usually going for one 20 minute walk every day.

- yoga 2-3 times each week, gentle relaxing poses

~Kate H.