Posted: Wed Mar 10, 2010 6:48 pm
Counseling has kinda left me feeling a bit
Then to come home to a noisy house full of people and a teen that is not to happy with cubby and I right now.
The counselor asked me what do I want to get out of going back.
What came to mind was pictures of what happened and words. One was to prove it was real to my family.
What really does that matter what they think and this won't prove anything to people who don't want to accept the truth.
Picture to was of how my dad and mom and uncle fought after my sister ran home to tell my parents my uncle was in the woods and I didn't come home. They came looking for me. A fight broke out. Mom seemed hurt by his words. Like he triggered a memory of shame and guilt. I wonder if he hurt her too.
Each time I see this picture my mind flips to a darkness in the woods. I ask what do I want to get from visiting this portion of the woods again and I hear to unlock the memories of what happened. If that happens, I'm not looking forward to it. Would much rather have that happen in the counselors office than out in the woods. I wonder why everytime I see my mom feeling this shame of uncles words my mind flips to this portion of the woods. Are they connected?
A time when he caught me in the woods and snuck up on me. And I dropped my necklace. I feel the shock and see the necklace that I loved so much slip out of my hands and disappear into the leaves on the forest floor. I asked what do I want to get out of going back to this place and I want that necklace back. I know I won't find it. 30 years of deterioration. There is nothing left, I'm certain. But I lost something and I want it back. It won't be the necklace. But the little girl.
A time when I walked into a drug sting. A man was being stabbed over and over. The bad guy saw me and came at me. My uncle was there and tried to scare me off, but I didn't run. The other man grabbed me and put a large knife to my neck. I have often felt that knife to my throat this past few weeks. He argued with my uncle. My uncle begging him to not kill me. The man saying over and over he's going to kill the little girl. The fight over how my uncle didn't produce his end of the deal by providing a safe place for the drug deal because there were kids in the woods. Now it's gone bad. He kept saying he's going to kill the little girl. The authorities came over the hill and swarmed the place. One tended to the guy that was bleeding. The guy with the knife to my throat put the knife away. I took off running. It was just to over whelming. I remember hearing them yelling stop or they'll shoot. I was crying so hard I couldn't see. My uncle was yelling at them to not shoot she's just a little girl. Everyone was nervous. All the police were yelling. My uncle yelled at me to stop or he'd tell my dad I didn't listen to him. I stopped dead in my tracks. My uncle told the police to let me go. They discussed who's child I was and where I lived at. He told them I just was playing in the woods. The police told me to go. And my uncle yelled at me to run home. I ran up half way up the hill but was to out of breath so I stopped and hid behind a tree. I heard another man say he has me in his sites, just say the word. The tension grew again. More yelling and arguing and cursing. My uncle yelled at me to go home, go all the way home, don't stop running till you get all the way home or I'll tell you dad.
My counselor asked what that little girl needs. I told her she needs her mommy. Because that is what she kept saying inside is I want my mommy, I want my mommy.
She had me as the adult be her mommy because my mommy wasn't there for me. I took her hand and led her home. What happened was just the past. I didn't die. They didn't shoot me. It just is so shakening as an adult to go back and admit that death was so close. How many times it was so close! Sometimes I think if only I had of died, I would of suffered less. I wouldn't be setting her today with such a huge hole in my heart. There is just so much!
I get so frustrated when people cry and complain over little things like not being able to afford the dress they want. Or thinking their world has ended because they lost their boy friend/girlfriend of three weeks. I know it seems so real to them. I know they struggle. But I want to scream at them they have no idea what struggle is. To live with so many memories of being so near death as a child, and abuse. I want to scream, doesn't anyone know my pain! But no one does and it doesn't matter. Everyday I sit and listen/hear of the sad stories of how someones day is ruined because they didn't get what they wanted, people stressing over such little things when inside no one else knows the struggle I'm going through. If I shared with you everything that happened to me, you'd walk away. It would be to much. It's to much for me. It's to much for my family to admit to.
I still see the blood, I feel it on my hands. I feel the knife on my throat or in my side. I feel the cold breeze against my cheek. I smell the moldy moss on the trees. I hear the crows. I hear the animals scattering in the woods. Deer, squirrels? Who knows. I just want to get home before I fall over. Before he gets to me again.
Why did I keep going back?! Because when I got home and told mom she'd say it was my imagination. Just a story. I need to stop making up stories before I hurt someone. But then when there was evidence I was in to much shock to share and the drugs he gave me made me sick and sleepy. She knew. I know she had to of known. She told me to stop going into the woods. But it was so adventurous. The animals, the trees, the creeks, the hiding places, the forts I had built. After all the bad stuff was just my imagination so I went back for the fun stuff.
Then to come home to a noisy house full of people and a teen that is not to happy with cubby and I right now.
The counselor asked me what do I want to get out of going back.
What came to mind was pictures of what happened and words. One was to prove it was real to my family.
What really does that matter what they think and this won't prove anything to people who don't want to accept the truth.
Picture to was of how my dad and mom and uncle fought after my sister ran home to tell my parents my uncle was in the woods and I didn't come home. They came looking for me. A fight broke out. Mom seemed hurt by his words. Like he triggered a memory of shame and guilt. I wonder if he hurt her too.
Each time I see this picture my mind flips to a darkness in the woods. I ask what do I want to get from visiting this portion of the woods again and I hear to unlock the memories of what happened. If that happens, I'm not looking forward to it. Would much rather have that happen in the counselors office than out in the woods. I wonder why everytime I see my mom feeling this shame of uncles words my mind flips to this portion of the woods. Are they connected?
A time when he caught me in the woods and snuck up on me. And I dropped my necklace. I feel the shock and see the necklace that I loved so much slip out of my hands and disappear into the leaves on the forest floor. I asked what do I want to get out of going back to this place and I want that necklace back. I know I won't find it. 30 years of deterioration. There is nothing left, I'm certain. But I lost something and I want it back. It won't be the necklace. But the little girl.
A time when I walked into a drug sting. A man was being stabbed over and over. The bad guy saw me and came at me. My uncle was there and tried to scare me off, but I didn't run. The other man grabbed me and put a large knife to my neck. I have often felt that knife to my throat this past few weeks. He argued with my uncle. My uncle begging him to not kill me. The man saying over and over he's going to kill the little girl. The fight over how my uncle didn't produce his end of the deal by providing a safe place for the drug deal because there were kids in the woods. Now it's gone bad. He kept saying he's going to kill the little girl. The authorities came over the hill and swarmed the place. One tended to the guy that was bleeding. The guy with the knife to my throat put the knife away. I took off running. It was just to over whelming. I remember hearing them yelling stop or they'll shoot. I was crying so hard I couldn't see. My uncle was yelling at them to not shoot she's just a little girl. Everyone was nervous. All the police were yelling. My uncle yelled at me to stop or he'd tell my dad I didn't listen to him. I stopped dead in my tracks. My uncle told the police to let me go. They discussed who's child I was and where I lived at. He told them I just was playing in the woods. The police told me to go. And my uncle yelled at me to run home. I ran up half way up the hill but was to out of breath so I stopped and hid behind a tree. I heard another man say he has me in his sites, just say the word. The tension grew again. More yelling and arguing and cursing. My uncle yelled at me to go home, go all the way home, don't stop running till you get all the way home or I'll tell you dad.
My counselor asked what that little girl needs. I told her she needs her mommy. Because that is what she kept saying inside is I want my mommy, I want my mommy.
She had me as the adult be her mommy because my mommy wasn't there for me. I took her hand and led her home. What happened was just the past. I didn't die. They didn't shoot me. It just is so shakening as an adult to go back and admit that death was so close. How many times it was so close! Sometimes I think if only I had of died, I would of suffered less. I wouldn't be setting her today with such a huge hole in my heart. There is just so much!
I get so frustrated when people cry and complain over little things like not being able to afford the dress they want. Or thinking their world has ended because they lost their boy friend/girlfriend of three weeks. I know it seems so real to them. I know they struggle. But I want to scream at them they have no idea what struggle is. To live with so many memories of being so near death as a child, and abuse. I want to scream, doesn't anyone know my pain! But no one does and it doesn't matter. Everyday I sit and listen/hear of the sad stories of how someones day is ruined because they didn't get what they wanted, people stressing over such little things when inside no one else knows the struggle I'm going through. If I shared with you everything that happened to me, you'd walk away. It would be to much. It's to much for me. It's to much for my family to admit to.
I still see the blood, I feel it on my hands. I feel the knife on my throat or in my side. I feel the cold breeze against my cheek. I smell the moldy moss on the trees. I hear the crows. I hear the animals scattering in the woods. Deer, squirrels? Who knows. I just want to get home before I fall over. Before he gets to me again.
Why did I keep going back?! Because when I got home and told mom she'd say it was my imagination. Just a story. I need to stop making up stories before I hurt someone. But then when there was evidence I was in to much shock to share and the drugs he gave me made me sick and sleepy. She knew. I know she had to of known. She told me to stop going into the woods. But it was so adventurous. The animals, the trees, the creeks, the hiding places, the forts I had built. After all the bad stuff was just my imagination so I went back for the fun stuff.