" Where do you think the fear of driving came from?"
All I can think of is that I was damaged
and it made me uncertain of my capabilities.
Here is a bit that I wrote to someone expressing
some of my healing.It may not be easy to read if you were molested. I remember in great detail all the years of my life,
but in childhood I separated the emotional turmoil from the memories.
When I thought about traumatic situations from my life
they seemed like a silent movie. After I stopped emotional eating,
(which I started doing the summer my big sister ran away
between 4th and 5th grades Read about that HERE)
the memories and emotions began merging
and it became overwhelming to sort through them.
As I worked on them I found that I could process it now because
I had the proper tools as an adult. I worked through a lot of them
in counseling, journaling , posting about it and I spent many hours in prayer.
Usually there was a trigger that merged them, a similar situation.
My dad got stressed when he was lost, I was so afraid of getting lost with him
because I knew he would fly into a rage, he would belittle and torment my mom,
then us kids and then sometimes he stopped the car
and he made us get out of the car and he would drive off, leaving us stranded.
It was almost a relief to get out of the car except one night during an electrical
storm, I about 10 and I was scared. I did not remember how scared I was that
night until I got lost one day in traffic and started feeling like I could not breathe,
then I started remembering how terrified I was walking in the dark with my mom
and sister, I always remembered that he made us get out of the car but could not
process that raw emotion. I just buried it until I could deal with it.
One thing I remember from that is that during that walk is that
I calmed down and became OK with the dark and the storm and lightening.
I had been terrified of thunder storms before that but what could I do out there
in the middle of it but make peace with it?
After that I loved to watch storms roll in,
I was able to salvage something from that experience.
Reliving that pain while I was dealing with it was really rough,
there were days when it hurt so bad
I could not figure out how I got through it all as a child.
I cried a lot. Someone got mad at me, I know it hurt her to see me hurting,
said I was living my life like a victim. I was confused by that,
I was trying so hard to not let the past tell me who I was.
The past voices told me I was unwanted,unloved,ugly and made me feel ashamed.
I was trying to see myself without the condemnation of the past.
When I was 9 and on my way to the neighbors to go to church one winter eve
when it got dark early, my brother grabbed me and drug me behind a tree
for his friend to rape me ( they were 14 yrs old).
They pulled down my panties and held me down,
he rubbed his penis on me but could not get it hard ,he kept trying to shove it in,
I bit the hand over my mouth and screamed, the neighbors heard it and looked out
but since we were beneath a tree no one saw us.
The boys took off and I remember putting my panties back on
and straightening my clothing and going to church .
I remember exactly what I wore ,a tan and light blue plaid wool skirt and vest
with little gold buttons and connecting chains between the buttons,
with a light blue blouse and tan knee socks. I had felt so pretty skipping off to
church but that was the last carefree skipping I ever did,
from that moment on I always knew where my brother was if he was home
and who was near me.
I became extra aware of my surroundings, I never got cornered again.
It is amazing how you can have a memory and strip all emotion out of it.
That was so traumatic for me but before it merged
I just saw it in my mind like any other event.
There were so many memories I had to work through,
that process took about two years and then a year of depression set in,
I was so tired from all the emotional work.
In the spring of 2011 I started feeling better,
I think I've worked trough what was hidden there.
It took me a while to figure out why I had to go that route for healing,
it was not an easy one.
I know I see life in great detail, I notice everything,My memories are that way too.
I remember that the measuring cup that my mom kept in the flour canister was
pyrex glass and the one in the sugar was plastic with a melted side.
None of my siblings even remember that there
were measuring cups always in the canisters.
Maybe there was an easier way to work through the pain of the past
but that is the way that came to me and I am thankful it did come.
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