The Blemished Rose

Christmas memories

2011-12-26T17:23:00.001+08:00

It’s the time of year when many families around the world come together, and celebrate in unison. It’s unfortunate that many of those families don’t unite in peace but instead, old family feuds are brought up and emotions intensify.

I think that when most people think about Christmas, good or bad memories spring to mind. For some people it might bring them joy and peace when they think back to Christmas festivities. For others it might bring painful memories of suffering and miserable times.

In my case, I have a mixture of both positive and negative memories. Although I experienced abuse as a child, I have to say that most of my childhood Christmas memories are good. I have fond memories of my Nan coming to stay with us every year, enjoying good food together and opening presents from under the tree on Christmas morning. There was only one Christmas spent in Italy, in the company of the abuser.

Ironically, it’s been in adult life that I’ve had to live with stress and strong emotions during this month, which is supposed to be filled with peace. For the past 2 years, I’ve spent Christmas in Italy and on both occasions I’ve experienced stress that has later gone on to affect my health. It’s inevitable that spending Christmas in a place that has so many bad memories is going to result in a negative outcome. I’ve had to deal with nightmares and family members who choose to bring up the past. I’ve also experienced triggers from visiting people’s homes that were decorated by the abuser, and seeing old photos on the wall that are constant reminders of my childhood in Italy.

A lot has happened this year and I feel I’ve become much stronger. I’ve always believed that health and happiness are priority and I’ve realised that Christmas is no exception to that outlook. Why should I sacrifice my health and happiness just to please others? I’ve battled the whole year with this predicament and that’s why I find myself where I am today. I don’t feel guilty, I would have liked to see some of my family but I wasn’t given a choice. I know that many survivors aren’t given the choice and some have to endure Christmas in the company of their abuser. Some people are a lot worse off than me and there are some who are forced to do things they don’t want to do. I’d like to think that one day these fellow survivors will have enough strength, as I did, to say “enough is enough.”

Music has kept me alive

2011-11-27T12:56:00.001+08:00

Music has healing powers and can affect people in many ways. Oftentimes people associate songs with memories, whether they are good or bad. Sometimes a song’s lyrics can really have an impact on us and it might seem as though the song was written about a particular situation we have experienced. That’s how music connects us so much in the world. We’ve all been through different things in our lives but some of us have been through similar experiences and can empathise with one another.

Music is an international language and such a great form of expression. I’ve loved music for as long as I can remember and I feel it’s really helped me in my healing process. Dance was my first way of expressing myself to music. As soon as I could walk, I would twirl around the house on my toes, and still do! I also have memories of me as a child, sitting on the swing in the garden, and making up songs. I remember how I used to imagine I was in a music video while doing it. It all progressed from there; in primary school, I began co-writing songs with some of my classmates. In secondary school, I studied music and composed songs. I also played flute in the school orchestra, an ensemble and sang in the choir, so I guess I’ve always been pretty musical. It’s such a shame that when I left school I lost a lot of that passion. Maybe school was good for me after all!

It was during therapy that my artistic skills started to come back to me. Out of the blue, I started writing poetry as a way of expressing my feelings and emotions. I guess I found it easier than writing journal entries. As a child, I had always been fond of poetry and used to write my own poems. Next, my passion for music started to return and I decided to start playing the saxophone. The natural progession from there was song writing and I haven’t stopped since!

Looking back on my life, I realise that because I was suppressing all the bad memories from my childhood, I was also suppressing the good ones. I guess, in a way, I lost my identity and passion. I was a dead soul. I really appreciate the fact that I’m artistic and have been able to use my skills as a form of expression. I also really appreciate music; it’s kept me alive in so many ways.

Friends or Foe

2011-08-01T12:00:00.002+08:00

Friends will:

be there for you in times of need
pick you up when you fall,
reply to messages you might send
and sometimes give you a call.

Make you smile when you’re feeling low,
give you a helping hand
listen to you, offer advice
and pull your head from the sand.

Friends won’t:

forget you in your times of need,
let you fall to the ground
ignore the things you want to say
and make you feel like you’ve drowned.

Make you cry and feel at a loss
selfishly turn their back,
give you no time but heartache and pain
that make you go off track

Friends should be like a plank of wood
sturdy, supportive and strong,
make you feel good when you do things right
and guide you when you are wrong.

Observing greed

2011-06-30T21:57:00.002+08:00

I feel the need to post about this subject as it's something I frequently observe in life.

People who have money often want more. Some people have so much money that they don't know what to do with it. Instead of investing in something worthwhile, they'll whittle it away on useless luxuries. What eventually happens is these people see only themselves and things that they want. They fail to see others in need.. A memory springs to mind:

As I walk down the street appreciating the air I breathe and the nature around me, I suddenly see a ghastly sight. A woman walking briskly with a paper coffee cup in her hand, trailing behind her is a puny little man overloaded with shopping bags and his girlfriend's designer handbag. She tosses the paper cup in the gutter and tells him to hurry up as she has more shopping to do. Both of them are completely oblivious to everyone else around them, they are in their own little bubble.

I've particularly observed scenes of this nature during fasting periods or times when I've had little money. I haven't felt jealous of these people at all but merely pity. I'd rather walk by a lake and appreciate the wind blowing in my hair, than walk by a glass window looking at bags made from animal skin..

Just the other week I observed someone order an enormous slice of cake only to eat about a quarter of it. I could have bought two if I'd wanted but I wasn't hungry and am certainly not greedy. Buying just for the sake of it, because you have the money and want people to see that you can afford luxuries really is a sad sight. Materialistic society arouses greed so that people spend money and will never be contented with what they have. There is always something better or more delicious than what was the most delicious yesterday.

"I'll have the chocolate cake today as I had the cheesecake yesterday"

Of course, on my travels I’ve also met some very selfless people. I’ve been to some very poor areas where people have invited me into their homes and offered me food (possibly their only meal of the day.) These generous people, with not an ounce of greed in their body, have wanted nothing in return for their generosity except a smile.

Perhaps it takes someone to lose everything to appreciate what they have. In the past, I have lived with next to no money, I have been very ill to the point where I thought I was going to die. So much so that when I earned money and regained my health I appreciated the life I have.

"That which observes greed is not greed: that which is greed cannot observe itself, but that which is not greed can observe itself."

- Buddha wisdom

Lies and betrayal

2011-06-22T23:14:00.005+08:00

There are a number of subjects I'd like to write about in the next couple of posts. Seeing as I live in the land of lies, I figured I'd start with the topic of lies and betrayal.

In just 33 years of my life so far, I've seen so much, been through so much and learnt lots of things about people and the world. I dread to think how many times I've been lied to in those 33 years. Living in a country where it's common practice to lie to save face can be tough for someone who has issues trusting people. Of course, people all around the world lie for a variety of reasons but some lies are more damaging or hurtful than others..

When I think of the topic of lies and betrayal, one life experience always springs to mind. It all started one night when I was at a house party with a friend. I hardly drank any alcohol but became increasingly drowsy and eventually passed out. The next morning my friend and I awoke, as I got up from the bed I noticed that my tights were ripped to shreds. We left the house and tried to piece together the jigsaw that made the picture of the party, however, both our memories were very hazy. The following two days I felt awful, unfortunately as I started to recover flashbacks also came. The memories assured me that more than one person had raped me and that my friend was present.

From conversations I had with the friend, we both remembered drinking from the same green drink that had been given to us by a guy. It seems we were both drugged. I reported it to the police and I was relying on my key witness and friend who was with me the whole night at the party. However, I was shocked to discover that she told the police she had no recollection of being given a drink and couldn't remember the house address. I felt so betrayed and alone and couldn't believe she had lied to the police. She was covering up the fact that she'd been seeing the guy who hosted the party even though she had a boyfriend. So I took it upon myself to call her boyfriend and tell him the truth, someone had to tell him. Of course, he was shocked by her betrayal.

I later had a flashback that wasn't pleasant at all. It involved me lying on the bed and people doing things to me that I hadn't consented to. However, I was so out of it and I physically couldn't move my body. Inside I was yelling for them to stop but the only voice I heard was that of my so-called friend saying, "I really don't think you should be doing that to my friend, she isn't even conscious." I felt paralysed after the realisation that she was not only a liar but also a traitor. Of course, I never spoke to her again, she wasn't a friend.

Trusting people isn't easy for anyone but when you've been through experiences like the one mentioned it's very hard to trust anyone at all. Many people in this world have hidden agendas. Some people pretend to be your friend for personal or financial gain. Others use you for a while then throw you away like a scrap piece of paper.

Of course, some friends are wonderful and I'm lucky to have some trustworthy friends who I'll cherish forever. In times of dire need, it's true friends who have been there for me and I'll never forget that. I'd rather have one good, honest friend than 10 who are a bunch of liars.

Chased by an alter

2011-05-05T21:02:00.000+08:00

As stated in my previous post, I’ve been having issues lately with one of my alters. Last night I had one of the weirdest dreams ever. I was being chased by a lady who appeared to be wearing my green jersey dress. She was partly exposed and kept provoking me, when she got close up she hurt me in such a way I can’t describe but I knew that she had bad intentions. What was strange was that I remember being in the dream and desperately trying to wake myself up by moving my body frantically. I eventually appeared to wake up but then I was in another dream!

Upon researching chase dreams I discovered that actions in the dream parallel how I would respond to stress and fears in my waking life. The dream indicates that I have a tendency to run away and avoid issues. The research suggests that I ask myself who is chasing me so that I can gain a better understanding on the source of my fears and anxieties. Apparently, the pursuer may represent an aspect of myself.

The following day when I remembered the dream and tried analysing it, I realised that the woman in the green dress was my naughty alter. She was wearing something she’d never wear and in fact it’s an item of clothing I associate with my other alter who looks out for me. She was probably provoking me because I’ve recently been trying to suppress her and bring the other alter to the surface. I think that I feel threatened by her because she gets out of control and she’s probably scared off other people too. I need to try to calm her down and show her love as I’ve realised that working against her will only make things worse. It was very strange seeing her in the dream, which must be how other people see me when she takes control.

Controlling alters

2011-05-01T00:25:00.001+08:00

Having DID and living with different alters can be a bit confusing at times. I’m very aware of my alters and the personality of each one. The alter I have the most issues with is very naughty and flirtatious, she’s a tease but seems to know what she wants and usually gets it. Unfortunately, I still haven’t quite got to grips with controlling her so there have been times where she’s gone wild. I have a memory of being at a bar with a guy and she completely took over my personality. What’s strange is that I don’t know what she specifically said or did.

I think I’m getting better at controlling and disciplining her and only allowing her out when I feel like it. However, recently she took control of me one evening when I was out and possibly went a little too far. She was her usual life and soul of the party; she danced and got lots of attention, which she loved. Later on, she spoke with someone and went a little over the top.

The following day I began switching back and I felt awful about what she had done. I just hope she hasn’t ruined things for me like she has done so many times in the past. She’s been known to wreck jobs, friendships, relationships and my life.

I recently spoke to another survivor about this and realised that alters can become more prominent when we’re around people we trust and feel safe with. That makes sense as this one in particular shows her face when I’m around someone I trust implicitly. It feels strange talking in first and third person but she is a part of me after all. I feel as though I need to try to merge this alter with my personality to make me feel whole and in control. I just hope that people can understand my actions, it sure is hard for me to understand sometimes but I’m working on it.

You're very strong, one day you'll see it...

2011-04-11T23:01:00.002+08:00

This evening I looked back at old posts that I wrote on a forum, the majority of which I wrote when I had a major crisis in 2006. There’s an interesting post where I mentioned something that my therapist once said to me, which was:

“You’re very strong, one day you’ll see it.”

When I finished having therapy due to the sexual abuse I experienced as a child, I felt so strong and confident. However, 2 months after finishing therapy I was raped. I suddenly felt like I had taken a massive jump back. Because I was working as a teacher, I had to take time off work as I lost a lot of confidence. Unfortunately, some people showed their true colours during that very low time in my life and now that I’m strong I want to write about it here. I want people to realise what it feels like to suffer so much injustice in life and the effects it has.

I confided in the colleagues at my school and I was shocked when one colleague asked me if I thought I had really been raped as I had been drugged. Of course I had, the flashbacks in my head were very real! How dare someone question me in such a time of need.

I’m glad to say that I confronted that person the following day and said that they had no right to say what they did. That person apologised and said that they were playing devil’s advocate…

I never have been a fan of management and unfortunately the managers at that work place were the most insensitive I’ve ever come across. I trusted that my situation would remain confidential. However, when head office put pressure on my manager he buckled and told them the reason I was off work. I felt betrayed, especially when I had confided in him about what had happened to me.

When I returned to work, I told my manager I would have to leave early one day a week, as I had to go for therapy. Again, I was shown insensitivity and the area manager said:

“Tell her to put it in writing.”

Someone has just been raped and you want her to put it in writing?

Insensitive is an understatement!

I’m proud to say that when I later saw that manager at work I had a private word with him. I told him that what he did was very insensitive especially as he knew the reason I was taking time off. He apologised and said that he was still learning….

My therapist was right, I am strong and looking back, I’m amazed at the strength I showed at that low point in my life too.

Spiritual fasting

2011-04-04T16:15:00.000+08:00

Though I’m not tremendously religious, I’ve been known to fast at Easter time. This year I decided to do a spiritual fast again and so far, it’s been very insightful. What I’ve noticed in the past is just how greedy some people can be and how much people take luxuries for granted. Just the other day I had lunch in a place where a buffet was available. As I sat writing and mainly drinking coffee, I couldn’t help but stare at the stacks of food people were piling onto their plates. There was enough food to feed an entire village of poor people but instead it was feeding a small group of hungry vultures. I didn’t even get the urge to splurge and stuff my face, instead I just lost my appetite.

I think that fasting is a great way to discipline oneself and realise how fortunate we are to have food and water, some are not as fortunate. Although I’m on a good wage and live in a nice flat, I am still very grateful for what I have and realise that one day it could all change and I could have nothing. When I’ve had nothing in the past, I’ve wanted nothing except love and happiness. Sometimes I feel that people spend money or eat and drink just for the sake of it and because they have the means. I don’t want to change and follow the crowd, I walk at my own rhythm.

A memory from a few years ago when I first moved to China often springs to mind. I was due to be paid in the New Year but due to a banking problem, my salary didn’t go through. Unfortunately, my UK bank card, which was my only source of funds, had expired on New Year’s Eve. Given the fact that it was the New Year holiday, the company was closed so I had no way of getting my salary until the office reopened. Therefore, I had approximately £1 to live off! During that time, I realised that I was able to survive; I was able to eat, drink and appreciate life. What I noticed around me were people with paper cups of coffee, food and bags bulging with shopping. It didn’t make me envious or hungry, if anything it just showed me the amount of unnecessary human consumption in the world. I felt like some of the poor people I walked past who had smiles on their faces and looked content. What I realised is that money sure doesn’t buy happiness and in fact not having money made me feel really carefree. I noticed things around me more and appreciated life. I’ll never forget that experience, it remains with me and I often refer to it.

Fasting can be done for health or spiritual reasons. Spiritual fasting cleans the body and mind and feeds the spirit. Fasting increases energy and extends life. I can personally recommend it to anyone wishing to detoxify the body and mind; it’s worked wonders for me anyway.

Gelato

2011-03-29T22:31:00.000+08:00

Wine
Coffee
Ice cream

A conversation about
Things we love
In the land shaped like a boot

Ping!
I’m triggered
Like a shoelace
slapping me in the face

While I could devour it for hours,
It also makes me shiver as it
Trickles down my throat

Take it
Have a gelato
Eat those ice creams!
Which one do you like?

Leaning in the car window
As though seeing off her lover
She tells him what she likes

Withered rose

2011-03-23T17:42:00.001+08:00

Yesterday evening I had a conversation about the country my father comes from. Although I like many things about Italy, unfortunately there will always be negative memories attached too. We got on to the subject of ice cream and the word for it in Italian, which is ‘gelato.’ Suddenly, I was transported back in time to a familiar scene on a bench outside my father’s childhood home. It was as though I was a ghost revisiting my past. Sat on the bench were two young girls in shorts and t-shirts, slurping chocolate ice cream from a tub. I watched as the younger of the two followed my uncle up to his car and leaned in the passenger window to tell him which ice cream we wanted.

During the night, I dreamt that I was at a table by that bench with my mother and the younger girl’s mother. She was speaking in Italian, a language I speak fluently, however I couldn’t make out what she was saying. She called over her daughter and she hadn’t changed at all or grown up, she was that same little girl who had been devouring ice cream on the bench. The young girl’s mother walked away and my mother told me what the girl’s mother had said. I remember feeling angry.

When I awoke this morning, I had a vision of a sad looking, dirty girl at my front door. I’ve been told before that sometimes a young girl’s spirit sleeps with me. I always feel it’s that little girl crying out for help. However, she’s been shrouded by her mother who has blocked out the past and instead of helping her daughter bloom, she’s helping her wither away. I feel I must water that withered rose and help her to bloom into the beautiful rose she should be.

Power in a Pond

2011-03-18T21:34:00.000+08:00

lilies floating in a pond
their uniformity
creates a carpet of green
yet one pad has grown
double the size
a shade darker than its peers
resembling a frog
in its bloated state,
thinking it’s so great

two things can pass;
praise or push
for although lilies come
in various shades and forms
this one is a prince
assuming a king’s role

the lily must exhale
warm the others with its hot air
share but not gloat
for a lily will not float
if it’s like a balloon of lead

one fine day
another may be king
and remind that lily
of its non-regal traits,
that reality awaits

for the lilies it may meet
as it flows upstream
may also be there
when it drowns

Water lilies of the world

2011-03-17T22:13:00.005+08:00

Are all people in the world equal?

I believe that everyone was created with the same pair of hands or potter's wheel. We are all the same in my eyes and I think in the eyes of God. I believe that everyone’s special. It’s individuals who make their own assumptions about who’s special and who’s not.

Everyone’s equal as everyone’s been given one thing that they have in common- a life. How people choose to live the special life they’ve been given is up to them.

Everyone can do whatever they want in life no matter where they were born or how bad their childhood was. I think that even physical disability can’t hold people back.

People are not all equal in their size, race, religion, intelligence but I think that this does not preclude people from treating others with kindness and respect.

Why do some people think they are superior to others?

I feel that it usually boils down to insecurity or something that they are lacking. Giving off an air of superiority or trying to put people down will boost their own self-esteem. From my observations, people try to cover up insecurity by being fake in order to gain popularity or continually boasting about achievements as though in a competition.

My philosophy

In this world, we are all like water lilies in a pond.
A lily can remain in a pond for life or broaden its horizons by experiencing life on a lake or river. Lilies aren’t exactly the same shape or colour however, they are the same plant. What a lily should remember is that it might reach a river but one day it might float back or drown in a pond. Lilies should be nice to others along the way as they might meet them on the way back.

Pauper or princess?

2011-02-13T22:38:00.011+08:00

In a café, quite content reading my book while others gassed away, the only thing missing was tea in my cup. Removing my eyes from the page for a moment, I noticed the waiter refilling teacups efficiently while mine was left dry. Other customers were treated like royalty whereas I was seen as a servant hidden away in the corner.

I went to the counter to pay the bill; all of a sudden the oblivious waiter appeared by my side. I couldn’t resist turning to him and asking if I was invisible, he said I wasn’t, the waiter apologised and said he was very busy. Managing to hold back the tears, I continued.

“Everyone is and should be treated the same; however, you served everyone in the room except me.”

The waiter agreed and apologised again profusely. I asked if he wanted me to return there, to which he replied that he did. I told him that I would not be a return customer. A waitress, who had assisted with translation, seemed sad to hear this and offered me a drink and dessert on the house. It was strange because after I’d sat in the corner being treated like a pauper, I was suddenly on display in the middle of the room like a princess!

Years ago, I probably would have walked away in silence and cried my eyes out without anyone ever knowing why. Nowadays, I believe in standing up for my rights and speaking out. Everyone in the world deserves the same treatment, whether it be a pauper or a princess.

Pricked by a thorn in my sleep

2011-01-08T20:17:00.006+08:00

This year I spent the Christmas holidays back in the land where many a horrible thing has happened to me. Although I felt calmer this year, I still waited in anticipation as the month of January loomed over me like a grey cloud. It was nice being with my close family and choosing who I would/wouldn't see. My take on it is that I can count on one hand who I trust in my family, the rest I'm not bothered about seeing. I refuse to visit people who just want to gossip and stab each other in the back.

January is always the worst month of the year for me and no matter how hard I try to block out memories, they still find their way into little cracks in my mind. Ironically, this year they just couldn't wait to get to me. On New Year's Day at dawn I awoke with what felt like a thorn stabbing at my heart. My heart was racing at what felt like 100mph and my head felt like it was going to explode. I arose and went to drink lots of water, thinking I was possibly dehydrated. After two hours, sat alone in a silent house, I returned to bed. Unfortunately I had a flashback to the horrific event I experienced that brought all the painful memories to the surface. I tried to hold back the tears but they flowed out of my tired eyes. Lying there unable to drift off again, I looked up and could barely make out a photo on the wall. It was a photo of my nan's doorway which ironically resembled The Virgin Mary. It made me feel as though my nan was with me and that she was telling me to pray to Mary, as she often did. So I said a few prayers and gently drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

We share the same ancestors, nothing more.

2010-12-06T19:03:00.011+08:00

Everyone experiences ups and downs in life, as they say, it's like a rollercoaster. Sometimes I wonder why we are thrown certain obstacles that we have to tackle; perhaps they help us build up strength so that next time it's not as difficult to jump over the hurdle.

Something that seems to be constantly thrown in my face though is happy families. I must admit that sometimes it's hard to face something I never had and possibly never will have. Coming from a disjointed family makes it rather difficult seeing others who appear to be so happy.

I watched a movie today that featured a large family. Although they had clearly been through a lot together, watching them have fun didn't make me laugh but made me feel sad. They went through bad times together but spoke openly about their feelings and emotions, something my family could never do. In my family, feelings were expressed through shouting, violence, anger and arguments. It was a lot of hot air for nothing that left everyone feeling deflated and upset. I'm lucky to have a supportive brother and parents; it's just a shame about many of the others:

People who just want to sweep my past under the carpet yet bring up other petty grievances
People who deny what happened to me and say they have no evidence
People who don't want to blacken the family name
People who knew that I was abused but kept it a secret in order to protect the family name rather than an innocent child
People who say that we must forget about it and keep quiet
People who ignore the subject completely

These people aren't my family but just people who happen to have the same ancestors as me. I don't want to see them, I don't deserve any more upset. I will continue to speak out no matter what they say as they are ignorant cowards.

Christmas and holiday times are never easy for survivors especially as it often means getting together with other family members. The intense stress and anxiety can be a reminder of the awful things we went through, especially if they took place during the holidays. Imagine being forced to sit at a dinner table with a family member who abused you. Alternatively, having dinner with family who choose to bring up the past all the time forgetting, or perhaps ignoring, the biggest crime of all that took place.

I've become stronger now and no longer choose to sit at dinner in silence as I did for many years. I choose whom I see and don't see. The last time my family started speaking about my abuser I merely said, "If you continue to speak about this topic, I'll walk out of here and you'll never see me again. I don't need to hear this."

Health issues

2010-07-23T22:00:00.007+08:00

After years of suffering from a variety of health issues, I now realise that they all link to my past, most illnesses are psychological after all. As a sufferer of irritable bowel syndrome for the past few years, I’ve recently found out that gastrointestinal problems (GI) may be second only to depression as the most frequent long-term result of child sexual abuse. As many as 71% of female children and adolescents who experience forced sex with an adult for more than two years may later develop GI disorders.

About four years ago, I was in a stressful work environment and began having difficulties urinating. I felt very embarrassed as my underwear was constantly soiled and I eventually had to go to the doctor for medication that helped control the involuntary urine loss. The doctor told me I was suffering from urge incontinence; it subsided a little when I left the stressful work place. Sexual abuse survivors have a significantly higher incidence of genitourinary dysfunction symptoms including stress and urge incontinence and voluntary urinary retention.

Over the past year, through talking to fellow survivors, I’ve realised that toilets are a significant trigger and have been the common place where I have experienced seizures. These psychogenic non-epileptic seizures (PNES) brought on by a trigger are an expression of repressed psychological harm in response to trauma such as child abuse. A flashback I experienced involved sitting on the toilet while my cousin held the door handle because there was no lock, on the other side of the door was a perverted man who wanted to enter.

I’ve since discovered a medical term for a phobia called paruresis, which is a fear of urinating in public. This phobia causes urinary retention due to avoiding public restrooms. Sexual abuse, public embarrassment or another traumatic event may trigger the condition.

Many women are unaware that they, too, are subject to paruresis; articles about women and urination emphasize other female urinary dysfunctions, such as urinary incontinence or frequent urination. Some people cope by deliberately holding in their urine, by refraining from drinking liquids, or locating unoccupied or single-occupancy public bathrooms.

Upon reading about this I realised why I had another medical problem only last year that literally changed my life. I was working in a closely confined space and therefore avoided going to the toilet on a regular basis, especially as the toilet was so close to the office space and you could hear the running water. I’d often hold it in for hours on end, arriving home busting for the toilet. I was also restricting the amount of fluids I was consuming to stop the need to urinate so much. Inevitably, after four months, I became desperately ill and I’d developed kidney stones. Thankfully, after six weeks, the stone passed and I didn’t need treatment. This drastic health change served as an impetus to change my lifestyle and I moved to a different company in a new location.

Being in so much physical pain was a trigger to the pain I had gone through all those years ago and I became very depressed. Upon reflection, I’ve realised how serious it could have been and how fortunate I was that I didn’t need any sort of medical intervention. Now that I’m aware that I am subject to paruresis and have suffered from kidney stones, I am very careful to drink enough fluids and urinate when I feel the need. My new work environment allows me more privacy and I feel a lot more comfortable.

It’s shocking to discover how many of my psychological and health problems stem from my abusive past. Survivors have to relive their past in order to get over it and as well as behavioural and psychological problems, many physical symptoms can develop too. Being aware of these problems can certainly help a survivor deal with them and gradually get better, which is why I wanted to share my own experiences here.

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Pleasant flashbacks

2010-07-15T19:54:00.005+08:00

This week I've been back in the classroom teaching a group of primary and junior teachers. I had flashbacks while I was in the classroom but they were surprisingly pleasant. They are only little things but they have helped me realise how far I’ve come.

The first flashback came when my colleagues were looking at a teddy I had on my desk; I said that I might keep it there for the rest of the day as a mascot. A few seconds later, I was suddenly transported back in time to my old school gym where I took my school exams aged 16; sat on my desk was a little teddy as a mascot.

The second flashback came a few hours later when I was monitoring my adult students having fun and getting excited while playing snakes and ladders. It looked as though they were having such a good time that I didn’t want to stop them, this took me back to my school days and how at exactly the same time (3.20pm) I would often not want the day or activity to end. I always loved the game snakes and ladders too!

Writing at the blackboard, another flashback appeared and I was back in my brother’s bedroom writing on a little blackboard. I suddenly remembered how my brother and I would play at being teachers and students. We had a desk, blackboard and even set each other homework!

I guess these are good flashbacks, which is a positive sign. Is this what happens when we have released and dealt with all the bad memories? I sincerely hope so, having these memories is quite comforting and allows me to connect even more with that girl who became lost at 16.

My inner child has bloomed

2010-07-08T20:17:00.006+08:00

When I was the age they call ‘sweet 16’ I wrote a song titled: “I’m All Alone Again” and now, at twice that age, I suddenly feel the very same sentiment. I guess I’ll always be a loner and that’s something I just need to accept. It’s strange how I’ve come full circle and now find myself almost back in that same situation- kind of a weird flashback.

I’ve recently realised many things about my life and the jigsaw pieces have finally fallen into place, so to speak. One night I prayed for answers through endless tears and it’s strange how they suddenly came to me and hit me like a sharp blast of wind.

Sometimes we don’t realise what has happened to us until we reflect and look for the reasons why thing occurred in our life. I recently had a memory of me as a young girl on the swing in the garden, making up songs and singing for hours on end. Then at 16 years of age, I lost all the things that I had going for me and hid away like a shrinking violet. My passion for music, dance and playing the flute disintegrated, my love of poetry and song writing vanished into thin air and my inner child was lost somewhere in the wilderness.

Then one day my prayers were answered and everything now makes sense. Through the work I did on connecting with my inner child, I started doing the things I loved and lost as a child. It began with poetry as a way of releasing my feelings during therapy. I then fell in love with the saxophone, eventually bought my own, and started playing it. I also bought a flute and felt myself connect with the girl who learnt how to play it all those years ago. The next thing to emerge from me was songs and I started writing with passion. From my love of music, I was then able to start expressing myself through dance once again.

Looking back, I grieve for that young girl who was lost for many years, unable to connect fully with the adult she had become. Now, she is a part of me and I must hold onto her, care for her, love her and allow her to bloom into that beautiful rose she should have always been.

The final confrontation

2010-07-06T22:08:00.004+08:00

I told my mother and father that perhaps they should confront the abuser, as I did, to release their anger. Upon reflection, my mother decided it was time to confront him, so I drove my parents to the hospital where he was a patient. I wasn’t planning on going in as I had already told him everything I had to say, but upon arrival I decided to confront that evil face one last time.

In the lift I could almost hear the thoughts swimming around in my parents’ brains, once again I felt an unknown power build up inside me. I was the first to emerge from the lift and as I walked out into the corridor there was an old, dying man sat alone in his pyjamas – it was the paedophile. My mother approached him and said, “You are a paedophile and criminal and you will burn in hell.” He tried shouting back but stayed silent when I told him to shut up- once again, I felt as though the roles had reversed. I had a flashback to all those years ago, strapped down to him naked with his hand cupping my mouth to keep me silent.

Snapping out of the flashback, I caught him saying, “I’ll call the carabinieri (police).” I replied, “They’re already here, outside!” He looked stunned so I continued; “You’re like a weak, scared, four year old child, and look at me, I’m strong now!” I said firmly while slapping my muscles. “Tremi (you’re shaking) eh!” I said, and he literally was.

I went up close to his face and said, “Say your prayers for penitence and forgiveness and maybe, just maybe you won’t go to hell.” As the nurses arrived, he piped up to try to gain sympathy, “I didn’t do anything to you,” he whimpered.

“Remember my face well because you’ll see it and all the other children you damaged when you go to hell.” I answered back. He was unable to walk and had to use a stick; he pointed it at me then uttered some rubbish. The nurse approached us, as I provoked him to hit me. “Violence solves nothing,” I said, “Don’t worry I wouldn’t waste my energy touching him.”

A nurse caressed his face and helped him up, “Yeah, look after him!” I shouted as they started to escort him away and I let him hear my final words, which were “Be prepared for hell because you’ll be there soon.”

Ironically, he died three weeks later…

Anger release

2010-02-19T00:28:00.002+08:00

A couple of months after I confronted my abuser, I returned to that place full of painful memories. It was the first time in years that I had entered the evil house where so many abusive acts had taken place.

As I entered through the rotting, wooden door, an intense heaviness came over me. I could hear a television blaring in the house next door; I knew that it was my abuser viewing it. I felt a sudden burst of adrenaline as I pulled out the posters I had prepared bearing his face and a single word- ‘paedophile.’ I stuck them in various places including some very poignant ones, like a mattress- signifying the place I had been taken advantage of so many times. A calendar- because it was something he would use to lure me there. As I left the house, I felt the heaviness release from within and when I emerged into the wintry air, I cried and my tears melted into the deep snow.

Last summer, four years after the initial confrontation, I returned there once more. Although I had gone back there before, I felt I had a lot of pent up anger I needed to release.

Inside the old, decrepit house was a small room built within a large room, the walls were constructed from bright orange bricks- it certainly stood out from the room it was built in, with its crumbling, grey stone walls. The room was purpose-built by the abuser and had a door with a lock on it, so that he could do his evil deeds in private. The door had a big pane of glass in the middle and ironically, there was a hammer next to the door. I couldn’t resist, so I took it in my hands and smashed the glass to smithereens. I then entered that evil room and felt heavy memories flying around me. The bed frame that had been used so many times for abuse was still there. I lifted it up with all my might and flipped it upside down. An old desk covered in porn, that he would show innocent children, infuriated me; in anger; I swept them off with a broom and then with all my strength tossed the desk halfway across the room. As I was destroying other things that came within my reach, I stumbled upon a big container full of boxes of matches, I was tempted to set alight to that atrocity but decided against it. Burning down that house may have given me a tiny bit of satisfaction but it would never have burnt away the memories.

I’m not a vandal, but he vandalized me as a child so my actions were miniscule compared to the damage he caused to so many innocent lives.

The day I confronted my abuser

2009-08-19T05:43:00.005+08:00

Confronting my abuser was something I decided to do towards the end of my therapy so I asked my counsellor what her opinion was and she told me if it was what I wanted that I should do it. Therefore, I had a few extra counselling sessions in order to prepare for the confrontation. During those sessions, I practiced what I wanted to say to the abuser and my counsellor and I did a kind of role-play. She prepared me for the worst, by pretending to walk away from me and not want to listen.

Finally, that all-important day arrived where I would confront the person who abused me all those years ago. I felt very strong and as I was travelling to the house with my father, as though I had nerves of steel. When I was face to face with the abuser, I didn’t shout but calmly said, “I’ve come here to say, I’m not scared of you, you can’t hurt me anymore and I will come here when I want. I did nothing wrong but you did.”
“You’re talking about something that happened 20 years ago.” He blurted out, (so I kind of got an admission) and he ran and hid behind a door. I was angered by his cowardice so I raised my voice, “Scared are you? Why don’t you come out?” The coward came out from hiding, I felt so powerful and as though the roles had now reversed. I approached him and said firmly, “I’m not scared of you, do you understand? You can’t hurt me anymore.” He looked like a weak little hermit and I felt like a strong, powerful woman.

Once I had finished, he sat down and started shouting. Something very strange happened, I could see his mouth moving but I heard no sound coming from his mouth. I had said everything I needed to so I walked out of the house with my head held high. I went next door to my aunt’s house and burst into tears, she hugged me. I felt relieved that I had done it and released my emotions in the way I had wanted to.

That was a special day and a very important one to me. I was lucky to have my father and some other family members there for moral support. I guess I didn’t know how I’d react until I saw him, however I still tell people that confronting was one of the best things I’ve ever done in my life. It left me feeling liberated and even stronger than I was before. I feel that if I could do something like that , I can achieve anything I aspire.

A few days later, my father told me that he avoided going to a certain bar because his brother (the abuser) went there. I felt furious, so I told my father to take me there. Sure enough, we arrived and the abuser was sat outside playing cards, I shouted, “Dad, it smells of shit out here.” I felt angry that he was still living the life of a free person and that people still spoke to him even after knowing what he had done. I was also angry because my father felt he couldn’t go there because of him. Therefore, when we left, I approached the table and shouted, “You’ve got a nerve coming here.” Of course, he stayed quiet and kept his head down; as he felt guilty, humiliated and probably thought he could gain sympathy.

My counsellor was happy to hear about the empowering things I had done upon returning to the place where I was abused. I told her that I hadn’t planned the second confrontation and that what I said had just come out, she said I need to let it out in any way I feel suitable. She was shocked that I got a half-admission from my abuser, told me she was in awe of me, and always had been. “You came here like a little girl and are leaving a confident woman.”

If confronting your abuser is something you are considering doing, I’d advise that you prepare for it beforehand either with a friend or your therapist. Plan everything that you want to say so that you feel confident and ready. In addition, it might be an idea to have some family or friends with you for moral support as it will be an emotional experience. It also depends on the relationship you have with the abuser as to whether you notify them of your visit or not. Ultimately, you should do what you feel comfortable with, as it will be an important day that you will never forget.

Healing with laughter

2009-04-15T18:11:00.004+08:00

I’m a firm believer in seeing the funny side to things and turning negatives into positives. I’ve been reminiscing today about when I lived in Italy and my father arranged for me to see a counsellor. After having an initial session with a psychiatrist I was referred to a counsellor in the hospital. I still have vivid memories of being sat in her dim office; the curtains were drawn so there was barely any light. She sat smoking a fag and asked me a few questions, which I struggled to answer. I felt so uncomfortable in that bleak room, there were awkward silences and she didn’t make me feel at ease. Also, even though I speak fluent Italian, it just wasn’t the same having therapy in another language. For some reason I returned for another session and it was even worse, the counsellor sat slouched in her chair pulling her fringe down over her eyes! Needless to say, I didn’t return to her as it just wasn’t going anywhere.

Fortunately, when I started having therapy in the UK I had an amazing counsellor called Joanne. I’ll never forget her and how she helped me get through that terrible time in my life. I remember in my first session I said to her, “I don’t think I’ll ever get over this.” Obviously I did because in our last session she said to me, “You came here like a little girl but you’re leaving like a woman.” She was so right, I had come a long way in my healing and she had observed it every week. What made her not just a good counsellor but a great counsellor is the fact that I could tell she genuinely cared and was concerned. I also liked the fact that, like me, she has a sense of humour which is so important in life. I remember when we were preparing for my confrontation and I was a bit concerned that the abuser could get violent, she replied: “What’s an old man going to be able to do?” We laughed together and I felt great. I often laugh out loud when alone but I don’t care if people think I’m crazy, at least I can laugh at myself.

Fitting in

2009-03-24T22:04:00.004+08:00

When you enter this world and don’t fit in, it can be tough but I guess I’ve kind of got used to it over the years. So why is it that if your face doesn’t fit you’re seen as an outcast and rejected by society?

Is it right to ostracise someone because they seem ‘weird’ to you? Perhaps before judging someone, people should consider what the person may have gone through in their life and issues they may have. People should also accept that everyone’s different and no one’s perfect.

This is just one of my observations in life, witnessed especially during my experiences of living in various foreign countries. People tend to cluster together like lost sheep but if you ain’t the same colour you ain’t allowed in the flock. Not fitting in with society is possibly a good thing- it means you’re individual at least.

Perhaps it’s not a case of fitting in but merely a case of there being different groups of people in the world who connect with each other. I’m very lucky to be part of Pandora’s Aquarium (a support network for rape and sexual abuse survivors) and I’m so happy to fit in there!

Unfortunately, I often lose faith in humanity especially when I’m trying to do something good. My latest project is to set up a support group for survivors of incest and abuse; however it seems the community centre that I approached thinks that “mothers coffee mornings” is a much more important subject matter!

To finish on a positive note:
“There are no extra pieces in the universe. Everyone is here because he or she has a place to fill, and every piece must fit itself into the big jigsaw puzzle.” Deepak Chopra

Dissociative Identity Disorder

2009-03-07T21:13:00.002+08:00

I’ve recently come to terms with the fact that I have DID and have been doing a bit of research into it. Those of you who haven’t heard of it, it is characterized by the existence of two or more distinct personality states that have the capacity to take control of the body, and the inability to recall personal information. There may also be other symptoms like: depression, obsessive/compulsive behaviour and eating disorders.

According to what I’ve read, the ‘alter’ is usually either protective or destructive. My most prevalent ‘alter’, who wishes to remain anonymous for this blog, first showed her face about five years ago (before I had started therapy) but also at a time when I had just realized abuse had taken place in my past. She emerged as the naughty side to me, the side to me that may not have been exposed otherwise. Sometimes she tries to take control too much so I have to fight it as she also has destructive tendencies. Body image seems to be her primary concern and if it means skipping meals then so be it.

I have another ‘alter’ who has become more prominent recently. This one is a lot more responsible and sophisticated than the other one. She cares for Paola, looks elegant, is confident and knows what she wants. She seems to be the protective part of me, looking out for me and ultimately not allowing me to get hurt. Her theory seems to be: “Men can’t use me if I use them first.”

Dissociation is something that children acquire and it protects them during traumatic experiences. Dissociative Identity Disorder is something that develops later in adulthood and is again a defense mechanism where the mind splits into two, allowing the other personality to deal with the bad experiences that we don’t wish to remember. It’s not necessary to integrate the personalities but is possible.

According to some studies, the 'average' person diagnosed with DID spends seven years in the mental health system before being properly diagnosed, due to misdiagnosis and lack of training on the part of therapists to spot the disorder. So that’s why it’s so important to break the silence and for people to be more aware of these personality disorders that aren’t “all in our head.”

Dealing with dissociation

2009-02-16T02:00:00.001+08:00

The human body fascinates me in the way it can heal itself mentally and physically. I’m also still amazed how the human body recognizes it is experiencing something traumatic and therefore produces a defence mechanism to assist in blocking out the pain,

Research suggests that some children repeatedly exposed to trauma E.g. Sexual, physical or emotional abuse develop what I believe is a gift from God called ‘dissociation.’ Dissociation is like a survival strategy which enables children to ‘switch off’ psychologically from the traumatic experience.

Ever found yourself having ‘one of those days’ where you just can’t snap out of it? Is it good to continue using this technique when danger no longer exists in your life?

Today I found myself dissociating in a normal every day situation and I just couldn't snap out of my ‘spaced out’ self. I was asked an ordinary question by someone and just couldn’t reply. I somehow managed to get him to repeat what he had said. While he was asking me if I knew where some books were, I realized I was staring straight through him, unable to answer the simple question. I must have looked like a zombie, it was quite embarrassing!

When I left the building I found myself dissociating while crossing the road, not very safe! So at that point I had to intervene and began flicking my wrist to try and snap out of it. This is just one technique I use, others include:

Distracting myself in some way: playing mahjong and going for a run seem to do the trick!
Using the “thought stopping” technique and mentally shouting “No.”
Making a positive affirmation and saying it in my head E.g. “I’m in control of my mind, I’m not in danger.”

As they say, time is a healer. After having recognized dissociation and when you are experiencing it, only then can you start dealing with it. Although sometimes it is something unwanted in life I also believe it can be seen in a positive light as your body tries to protect you. Who knows- if I am ever fortunate enough to experience childbirth, perhaps I could try and voluntarily dissociate from the physical pain!!