Category Archives: Flashbacks

Jun20

Trust. Trust?? Trust Who? Trust What?

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Throughout the long time that I’ve been dealing with chronic diarrhea, I’ve been praying for God to heal me, but all I’ve really gotten from God was Him telling me to trust. Just trust. And I’ve gotten to the point that I’m frustrated and discouraged and disheartened, because my activities are severely limited and so is my diet. Just about everything I eat causes an attack of diarrhea, or so it seems.

My doctor suggested maybe I had developed a sensitivity to gluten after the surgery on my knee last January, so I bought a lot of gluten-free food. I’ve been eating it, but I can’t really tell if it’s making a difference, because I still have episodes sometimes. I don’t have any of the symptoms of Crohn’s disease except for the diarrhea (no skin rashes, abdominal cramping, or bloating).

Another issue that’s cropped up because of the diarrhea is the problem I have with taking showers (there are times after a particularly bad attack where I have no choice but to take one). This has been an issue for me for a long time because one of the main places Harry (my biological father) abused me was in the shower. The first abuse memory I had was of him forcing me to have oral sex with him in the shower when I was about two years old. I’ve had memories of him making me have sex with his friends in the shower, and him paying them money for the experience. It was never very much money, usually a dollar or two, but money always exchanged hands. It was the fatherly version of human trafficking. So, as you might guess, I don’t like taking showers, because oftentimes when I do, I have flashbacks.

I think the point of the money was to let me know that I was of very little worth to him. He sold me to his friends in the amount specified, never more than a couple of dollars. One time it was $1.53, and he told me that was what I was worth to him. Thankfully God has shown me conclusively that Harry was lying about that, though in his mind he was telling the truth. I don’t know why he hated me so much, but I forgive him. And I forgive the men with whom he forced me to have sex as well.

I’ve tried to figure if he was disappointed because I wasn’t a boy, or something like that, but if that was what his problem was, the genetics of my gender were his responsibility, not mine! So if he’s going to hate anyone it should have been himself, not me! Talk about projection!

I forgive him! And I forgive them too!

I’m reminded that Jesus was betrayed by Judas Iscariot for thirty pieces of silver.

14Then Judas Iscariot, one of the twelve disciples, went to the leading priests 15and asked, “How much will you pay me to betray Jesus to you?” And they gave him thirty pieces of silver. 16From that time on, Judas began looking for an opportunity to betray Jesus. ~ Matthew 26:14-16, NLT.

The point in bringing up the stuff about the shower is that everytime I have to take a shower now, I feel like God is bullying me into taking showers again, because I went for a long period where I didn’t take them. During the quarantine I wasn’t going anywhere, and it was just easier to not take them because when I did I had flashbacks. I can’t smell anything except gardenias and jasmine, as I got punched in the nose when I was in the seventh grade, and it did nerve damage, so I have to ask my friends if I want to know anything about what smells good or bad, or if there’s any smell at all.

This diarrhea has been going on for so long that it’s hard for me to know who to trust ~ or not trust ~ at this point. There are times when I’ll have an attack, and then I’ll have another one on the heels of the previous attack before I’ve even had time to leave the bathroom. Yesterday was like that. It feels like my body has turned into a leaky sieve and it’s impossible to plug it up. And the thing is, I don’t understand why God isn’t answering my prayers and healing me. I’m just supposed to trust. Trust what?? Trust who??

AARRGGHH!!!

O wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? ~ Romans 7:24, NKJV.

I feel like a modern-day version of Psalm 88,

1O LORD, God of my salvation, I cry out to you by day. I come to you at night. 2Now hear my prayer; listen to my cry. 3For my life is full of troubles, and death draws near. 4I am as good as dead, like a strong man with no strength left. 5They have left me among the dead, and I lie like a corpse in a grave. I am forgotten, cut off from your care. 6You have thrown me into the lowest pit, into the darkest depths. 7Your anger weighs me down; with wave after wave you have engulfed me.
Selah
8You have driven my friends away by making me repulsive to them. I am in a trap with no way of escape. 9My eyes are blinded by my tears. Each day I beg for your help, O LORD; I lift my hands to you for mercy. 10Are your wonderful deeds of any use to the dead? Do the dead rise up and praise you?
Selah
11Can those in the grave declare your unfailing love? Can they proclaim your faithfulness in the place of destruction? 12Can the darkness speak of your wonderful deeds? Can anyone in the land of forgetfulness talk about your righteousness? 13O LORD, I cry out to you. I will keep on pleading day by day. 14O LORD, why do you reject me? Why do you turn your face from me? 15I have been sick and close to death since my youth. I stand helpless and desperate before your terrors. 16Your fierce anger has overwhelmed me. Your terrors have paralyzed me. 17They swirl around me like floodwaters all day long. They have engulfed me completely. 18You have taken away my companions and loved ones. Darkness is my closest friend. ~ Psalm 88:1-18, NLT.

I included the whole of Psalm 88 because the Psalms are really wonderful at describing how you’re feeling, especially when life gets really bad, and Psalm 88 is perfect for that. It’s the only psalm where there’s no positive note at the end. All the other psalms have a reassuring, encouraging note at the end, but not Psalm 88. The only thing positive about this psalm is that the psalmist doesn’t stop praying.

So I think I’ll leave it at that. I would appreciate any prayers from my followers if you feel so lead, because I’m in a pretty bad place at the moment, in case you can’t tell.

Thanks in advance! I love you all!

Jun1

A Time for Every Purpose Under Heaven

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1To everything there is a season, a time for every purpose under heaven: … 7A time to tear, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak; 8A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace. ~ Ecclesiastes 3: 1, 7-8, NKJV.

The purpose of this blog is to educate people about the horrors of child abuse, and in particular sexual child abuse. There are a number of lies out there about what children experience when they’re being molested, and this is a big one.

This is going to be a hard post to write because it’s about a difficult subject. It’s hard for me to talk about and it’s difficult to write about, but I have to make the effort, because I need to bring it out in the open. As it says in the verse I quoted above, there’s a time to keep silence and there’s a time to speak. I hate what was done to me, and it’s time to talk about it.

Over the past couple of weeks I’ve been having flashbacks of moaning and grunting and groaning, and I couldn’t figure out what it was ~ if it was even a flashback. But then I remembered people telling me that if it felt good when Harry raped me (Harry is my biological father), all that was happening was that my body was reacting naturally to being sexually stimulated. Then I realized that my body wasn’t feeling pleasure as he was raping me. It was feeling pain. It HURT!! I was a small child and he was an adult male. My body was far too small for his adult-sized body parts. Then as he was forcing himself into me, and I was groaning from the pain, I could see him smiling.

Smiling?? Why was he smiling? Then it dawned on me: he thought I liked it. I liked it?!! I don’t THINK so!!

Knowing that Harry was so selfish and out of touch with my needs made me feel incredibly angry. It made me angry then and it makes me angry now, but I know I have to deal with it and forgive him.

I’ve been trying very hard to NOT deal with this memory since it came up. I’ve procrastinated on working on this post for days on end. It’s too painful, and it makes me too angry at Harry. It also makes me angry at my mother because she did nothing to stop him.

I don’t like feeling angry. It makes me feel out of control. But I know I have to get this dealt with. If I don’t take care of it then it will fester like an old wound that gets infected and fills with pus, and I really don’t want that. So I have to stop dithering about and just do it, regardless of how bad it feels, because, as it says in the Psalms, tears may last for a few hours, but with the new day comes joy.

For His anger is but for a moment, His favor is for life; weeping may endure for a night, but joy comes in the morning. ~ Psalm 30: 5, NKJV.

I really want that joy, and I really want to please God, so I’m going to finish working through this memory, and forgive Harry and my mother, so I can publish this post.

I forgive you, Harry! I love you, regardless of what you did to me! I want the best for you!

I forgive you, Mom! I love you no matter what! I want the best for you!

Joy comes in the morning, and I pray that morning is here!

22Through the LORD’s mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. 23They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. ~ Lamentations 3: 22-23, NKJV.

Aug27

No Such Thing as a Mistake

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I’ve been wanting to learn how to paint, and I even went so far as to tell my cousin, who’s a professional artist, that information. She responded by ordering some art supplies from Dick Blick, which was really cool, but which kind of scared me, because that meant I actually had to produce some artwork using the materials she sent me.

I love doing art, but I have an ambivalent, love-hate relationship with it, and with anything creative ~ making art, performing music, etc., etc. Doing creative activities fills me with fear because of the spectre of Harry threatening me if I make a mistake.

Whenever I would practice the piano as a child, if I made a mistake, Harry would stand behind me. But it wasn’t just that he was standing behind me. He stood behind me with no clothes on. His private parts were right at eye level, and he would snarl at me, “Do that again and you’ll regret it!” in a low voice so that only I could hear him. And because he was standing there naked, I knew what the punishment would be for my mistake: I’d get raped.

So I froze. I couldn’t go on practicing because I was so terrified, at which point Harry would hiss, “What are you waiting for? Keep on playing! Keep on playing!” My fear level was so high, the likelihood of another mistake was just about 100%. It seemed like Harry wanted me to do it again just so he could rape me. He was just looking for an excuse.

Even now I can feel the terror that I felt back then, and I want to weep for that little girl that I was, but as much as I want to hate Harry, I can’t, because I know God loves him as much as He loves me, so I choose to forgive him.

I don’t remember what happened after that, but suffice it to say that I’ve always had a hard time playing classical music, as much as I love doing it. Worship music is easier once I get going, but I haven’t played any music at all for many years, and artwork is also difficult for me for the same reason. I’m terrified I’ll make a mistake.

I was talking about this with McT during my last session, and the thought occurred to me that with God there’s no such thing as a mistake. Mistakes are under the blood of Christ. They were dealt with at the Cross, and I don’t have to be afraid of them anymore. Now I have to figure out how take that idea into my heart so I can act on it and actually begin to make art.

That’s the puzzle. That’s the conundrum. How do I act on it and begin to make art? I think I just have to step out in faith and start!

Now faith is the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen. ~ Hebrews 11:1, NKJV.

It’s funny. I don’t have a problem doing counted cross stitch, even when I make mistakes and have to frog something I’m working on (frogging is when you’ve made a mistake and have to rip something out; you know, rippit rippit rippit), which is what’s happening with my current project. It’s a sampler by Long Dog Samplers called Jouissance, and it’s really beautiful. I’ve provided a link to it so you can see a picture of what it’s supposed to look like, but I might include a pic of it here as well, partly because I’m using a different colorway than what was originally called for. I’ve tried everything I can think of to make the images here smaller, to no avail, so what you see is what you get. They’re both a little blurred and larger than I’d like, but I think you can get an idea of what it looks like.

The Original Version of Jouissance

As I said, I’m having a problem with this project, because I discovered last night that I’ve miscounted, so I’ll have to frog some stitches or else my count will be off for the whole project. Fortunately I’m not that far along, but it’s annoying that I have to rip out these stitches because it’s the second time I’m having to do so. I miscounted it in the same spot a couple of days ago because I keep mixing up which end of the chart is up.

My Version of Jouissance

SILLY ME!!

I’ll have to label the top of the chart in big bold letters so I can’t make the mistake again, because I really hate having to frog my stitches! It slows my progress and it can be discouraging if I let it get me down.

I’m not sure why cross stitching is different than other kinds of creativity as far as my ability to do it without fear, but it is, and I love doing it.

It seems to me that mistakes in artwork can be thought of as creative variances or differences. You can use them to explore new creative pathways and experiments, and I’m thinking maybe that’s what I should do with the art materials my wonderful cousin sent me. I should play with them and have fun with them. If I can do that with them, then maybe learning how to paint with them won’t be so scary, and it’ll be easier to experiment with them like I’ve been thinking of doing.

For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind. 2 Timothy 1:7, NKJV.

That’s all I can think of at this point, so I think I’ll stop here. If nothing else I have to frog those miscounted stitches on my project so I can start making progress again. Oh well! But at least I caught the mistakes early so it won’t take much effort to fix them.

Onward and upward!

Sep25

Having Flashbacks In the Dentist’s Chair

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I broke a tooth yesterday, so I had to go to the dentist today. I didn’t have a dentist before yesterday, because I’m terrified of going to see them. Everytime you go to the dentist, they have to numb your gums, and everytime they do that, I can not only feel, but hear the POP of the needle going into my gums. It’s the creepiest thing, and it just terrifies me.

Until today when I was sitting in the dentist’s chair, I thought hearing the pop of the needle going into my gums was the only problem I had with the dentist.

Turns out I was wrong, very wrong.

So I was sitting in the dentist’s chair, and she told me to close my eyes as she was working on my teeth. I did that, but then I started seeing all these flashbacks. You know, Harry doing bad things to me. Only this time, the flashbacks were specifically about oral sex ~ I’m sure because the dentist was messing around in my mouth, forcing it wide open as she was drilling, etc.

Hence, the next time the dentist told me to close my eyes ~ once I could get a word in ~ I said I couldn’t because it made me have flashbacks, so she stopped suggesting it, thankfully. And as long as I kept my eyes open the flashbacks were held down to a dull roar ~ because once they’d begun, I couldn’t make them stop. I almost started crying, they got so bad.

I’ve known for years that Harry forced me to have oral sex with him. The very first memory I had back in 1980 was of him forcing me to have oral sex in the shower when I was about two years old. Then years later, I found a report from my pediatrician saying I had a rash around my mouth when I was about four, and I was fairly certain what had caused the rash.

And when I say oral sex, that’s exactly what I mean. Harry was forcing me to put his penis in my mouth, and my mouth was too small for it, so it made me gag and choke, which made him mad, so he started hitting me, after which I got confused and terrified, so I lost control of my bowels and pooped on the shower floor. That made Harry REALLY mad, so he picked up my feces and threw it at me, and then he forced me to eat it.

How can people be so beastly towards other people, especially towards innocent children? What did I ever do to him to make him hate me so?

I forgive him! I purpose in my heart to forgive him!

This was horribly difficult to write. It was a new memory, and it came up in public, and in a strange place, with people that I didn’t know, so I had no one with whom I could process it. I had to keep it all inside until I got home.

So I took myself to McDonald’s and got a Mocha Frappé to reward myself for adulting so well! Yay me! And more importantly, yay God, because I couldn’t have done it without Him. Throughout the appointment I was repeating a verse from Isaiah to myself,

You will keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on You, because he trusts in You. ~ Isaiah 26:3, NKJV.

And then I personalized it,

You will keep me in perfect peace because my mind is stayed on You, because I trust in You. ~ Isaiah 26:3, personalized.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve used this verse to get me through a difficult situation like today, and especially once I started having those flashbacks. Being able to draw on the Holy Spirit, and the Father, and my Sweet Jesus by meditating on Scripture, as I did today, made all the difference.

As Jesus told the Apostle Paul when Paul asked Him to remove the thorn in his flesh,

“My grace is all you need, for my power is greatest when you are weak.” ~ 2 Corinthians 12:9, Good News Translation.

I was weak today, and I’m glad I was, because God is faithful and trustworthy. He always keeps His promises. He always shows up if we will only put our trust in Him.

I’m so glad I did!

Thank you, Jesus! Thank you, Holy Spirit! Praise God! God is so good!

Feb12

Those Wretched Intrusions!

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I want to talk about something that every survivor of child abuse, and especially every survivor of childhood sexual abuse struggles with, and that is flashbacks. Anyone who has PTSD wrestles with flashbacks. Soldiers who’ve come back from battle often have PTSD, and one of the symptoms of PTSD is flashbacks.

My dictionary defines a flashback as: a sudden and disturbing vivid memory of an event in the past, typically as the result of psychological trauma. 

I have flashbacks on a daily basis. For me ~ and I think they’re different for each person because each person is a unique individual ~ they are distinctly sexual, and very distressing and disconcerting. Basically they consist of body parts having sex, and everytime they happen I feel like a wave of filth has just washed through my mind. When it happens I feel compelled to shake my head in an effort to jiggle it out of my head to make it go away. Doing that doesn’t work very well, but I can’t just do nothing. I also say to myself, “I cast that thought down in the Name of Jesus,” which I got from a passage in 2 Corinthians,

For though we walk in the flesh, we do not war according to the flesh (for the weapons of our warfare are not of the flesh, but mighty before God to the casting down of strongholds); casting down imaginations, and every high thing that is exalted against the knowledge of God, and bringing every thought into captivity to the obedience of Christ… 2 Corinthians 10:3-5, ASV (American Standard Version).

Over the years my main way of dealing with them has been to spend time reading my Bible, plus I listen to the Bible on tape while I sleep. I figure exposing myself to God’s Word in every possible way has to help because the Bible talks about the Word having a cleansing affect,

For husbands, this means love your wives, just as Christ loved the church. He gave up his life for her to make her holy and clean, washed by the cleansing of God’s word. ~ Ephesians 5:25-26, NLT. 

The Bible also speaks of being successful if you keep God’s Word before you all the time,

Keep this Book of the Law always on your lips; meditate on it day and night, so that you may be careful to do everything written in it. Then you will be prosperous and successful. ~ Joshua 1:8, NIV.

And aside from all that, I just love God’s Word. It’s been my favorite book in the whole world for many years.

However, I find it painfully interesting that since I started working on this post the flashbacks have gotten worse ~ more vivid, more frequent, and more intrusive ~ than they’ve ever been. It’s almost like the devil knows, or my mind knows, that in bringing the problem out into the open its days are numbered.

I hope that’s true!! I would dearly love to be free of this cursed plague!!

So I submit my mind to God, and to the purifying blood of Christ my Lord in the hope of freedom and eternal life!

Thank You Jesus for Your cleansing blood!! I love You so!!