Question:
(Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text -
I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Please accept the sad compassion we feel for such painful truths. It is scary-painful-brave to know them. We wish we could have helped. Beauty. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Hello Kym, To all of TN: We are very moved by the strength, calm, and wisdom in your voice.
You heard and felt us, thanks. It sounds like you experienced a cleansing, healing release and internal sharing of some powerful feeling in honor of who you are.
Exactly! Music *can* be incredibly helpful this way. Beth Neilson Champman, Poe, and Dido sing a few songs that have helped us grieve– and perhaps also process some things inside that language can’t capture.
Very true ime as well. I can name some other music that really helps to create movement and release. I need to start dancing again, speaking of movement and release. :o) Did you know I danced professionally once? I did. I danced a variety of polynesian – asian folklore. Detour sorry… *snickering* I guess it’d be fair to say that music moves both our ppls in lots of ways, evoking a wide array of emotions and memories strongly associated with such. It sounds like you were hesitant to send along your writing, but I’m glad you did, because it means a lot to me. I’m honored to be a witness to your strength and inspired by your words on a personal level.
*blushing profusely* Thank you for bearing witness and for listening. I will pass along your post to the rest of TN. I’d be interested in hearing more about the inspiration on a p-level if you want to share. *gentle nudge* Either medium, private or here. I understand now more than ever, why I became the therapist and the benefits to having a therapist in the TN / rl family.I have the education, skill and compassion to help us navigate our multiple paralleling, sometimes overlapping transbiopsychosocial lives. *big smiles* Take gentle care,
Thanks. Will do, Kym. You do the same. I miss you. It’s good to hear from you again. I recently got a new puter bc all of everything got lost in the old Mac recently. So, now I can add your addy once again! Stop disappearing! *kidding* So tell me, how’s life been treating you these days? Sierra of TN
Response:
(Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity.
snip To all of TN: We are very moved by the strength, calm, and wisdom in your voice. It sounds like you experienced a cleansing, healing release and internal sharing of some powerful feeling in honor of who you are. Music *can* be incredibly helpful this way. Beth Neilson Champman, Poe, and Dido sing a few songs that have helped us grieve– and perhaps also process some things inside that language can’t capture. It sounds like you were hesitant to send along your writing, but I’m glad you did, because it means a lot to me. I’m honored to be a witness to your strength and inspired by your words on a personal level. Take gentle care, Kym
Response:
Hello Beauty, Please accept the sad compassion we feel for such painful truths.
I do, thanks. I’ll pass this post along to the rest of TN as well. I’m sure others will appreciate it. It is scary-painful-brave to know them.
Yes, it is. *solemn nod* We wish we could have helped.
Helped? Helped when we were younger or the other day? *gg* I’m kidding with you, Beauty. *smiles* Sierra of TN – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
(Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity.
how wonderful! hardest thing for me to explain to people is why dissolving into tears is a *good* thing for me….. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard!
ahh… got napster awhile back…got some great tunes. Spent monday morning with America’s "I need you" & Pat Benetar’s "Heck is for Children"… totalled me… Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles*
*sniffles* normally not bothered as long as I’m warned… fell apart rather badly after my T. appt today… and the *sweet kisses* <were really nice. thank you! just about destr*yed me, so I’ll pass on your rememberances for now, with regrets. My heart(s)felt sympathy for your pain. dyenths – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
says… Hello Kym, To all of TN: We are very moved by the strength, calm, and wisdom in your voice. You heard and felt us, thanks.
Very much so. And, you’re welcome. Anytime. It sounds like you experienced a cleansing, healing release and internal sharing of some powerful feeling in honor of who you are. Exactly! Music *can* be incredibly helpful this way. Beth Neilson Champman, Poe, and Dido sing a few songs that have helped us grieve– and perhaps also process some things inside that language can’t capture. Very true ime as well. I can name some other music that really helps to create movement and release. I need to start dancing again, speaking of movement and release. :o)
Sounds great! Did you know I danced professionally once?
No, but that’s really neat to know. I did. I danced a variety of polynesian – asian folklore.
I would imagine … movement and release… that this is a very symbolic and dramatic kind of expression. (No tutu, but a lei? 
))) I have a new workout tape and I’m shooting for minimal injury. Detour sorry… *snickering* I guess it’d be fair to say that music moves both our ppls in lots of ways, evoking a wide array of emotions and memories strongly associated with such.
Yes! My "movement" is the human voice. Well, I’m a singer, although not professional, just the occasional choir and shower-variety-opera type. So I’ll sing while you dance. It sounds like you were hesitant to send along your writing, but I’m glad you did, because it means a lot to me. I’m honored to be a witness to your strength and inspired by your words on a personal level. *blushing profusely* Thank you for bearing witness and for listening. I will pass along your post to the rest of TN.
Yes, please, and thank you. I’d be interested in hearing more about the inspiration on a p-level if you want to share. *gentle nudge* Either medium, private or here.
More in email, but basically what I feel safe saying here is this: we have an exquisite appreciation of *stringing beads*… pieces of pieces… for us they are like mercury… and how much work, time, and healing has to take place before the pieces form an epiphany of energy that can be shared throughout the inside world, understood, and then released. It’s much different, than, say, the big, known, always dealing with stuff that you chip away at, and it shrinks down and fades, or perhaps it forms or joins other tiny streams toward a later epiphany? Afterward, there’s this unique kind of clarity and sense of resolution. More "self"… more authentic, grounded, wise, self. Tears come more easily, but I always feel like I’ve gained more availability to relationships and to hope, itself. (Our most difficult relationship perhaps being the one we have with the concept of "future".) I thought about you while driving in the car today, wondering if you are enjoying a similar sense of what we’ve experienced on these poignant, rare occasions. It was painful, but I heard how good it was, too. I understand now more than ever, why I became the therapist and the benefits to having a therapist in the TN / rl family.I have the education, skill and compassion to help us navigate our multiple paralleling, sometimes overlapping transbiopsychosocial lives. *big smiles*
Wow, transbiopsychosocial, huh? I’d like to know more about this. I can’t be a therapist because I think I’d find it too painful/difficult, but part of my training involves clinical work, and I’m not sure how to navigate through that. Take gentle care, Thanks. Will do, Kym. You do the same.
Will do! I miss you. It’s good to hear from you again.
Thanks for saying. You’re often in my thoughts. I recently got a new puter bc all of everything got lost in the old Mac recently. So, now I can add your addy once again! Stop disappearing! *kidding* So tell me, how’s life been treating you these days?
I’ll send email this weekend. Again– thanks for what you shared. We have some things in common, you and I, and I am glad to know that. Kym
Response:
Hello Beauty, Please accept the sad compassion we feel for such painful truths. I do, thanks. I’ll pass this post along to the rest of TN as well. I’m sure others will appreciate it.
Thank you for accepting. It is scary-painful-brave to know them. Yes, it is. *solemn nod*
[Feeling them, however we can, empathically - sorry, we can't help it - it's what we do.] We wish we could have helped. Helped? Helped when we were younger or the other day? *gg* I’m kidding with you, Beauty. *smiles*
Younger. Sounds like you didn’t need help the other day. I mean it. Beauty. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Sierra of TN (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Sierra and all of TN, we were deeply moved by your words, and by the courage it took to connect your thoughts, feelings, and picture-memories to make sense of times past. thank you for sharing these steps of your journey with us… some, of Ravensong
Response:
Sierra and all of TN, your description of your healing, cleansing experience is very powerful and moving. I am very happy for you that you were able to go through this healing process. I admire your strength and courage in allowing yourself to go into the depths of these feelings and memories and in making these connections. Thank you for sharing this. -Nancy
Response:
Hello again. :o) To all of TN: We are very moved by the strength, calm, and wisdom in your voice. You heard and felt us, thanks. Very much so. And, you’re welcome. Anytime.
I’ll remember that. Dittos, ok. It sounds like you experienced a cleansing, healing release and internal sharing of some powerful feeling in honor of who you are. Exactly! Music *can* be incredibly helpful this way. Beth Neilson Champman, Poe, and Dido sing a few songs that have helped us grieve– and perhaps also process some things inside that language can’t capture. Very true ime as well. I can name some other music that really helps to create movement and release. I need to start dancing again, speaking of movement and release. :o) Sounds great!
It is great. Some of the happiest moments of my life have been dancing. I’m particularly fond of ancient folklore. Did you know I danced professionally once? No, but that’s really neat to know.
*giggling* I did. I danced a variety of polynesian – asian folklore. I would imagine … movement and release… that this is a very symbolic and dramatic kind of expression. (No tutu, but a lei? )))
Symbolic and dramatic, you betcha! ROTFL!!! I couldn’t even imagine myself in a tutu! Ups, scratch that! I can. ~I don’t think sooooo!!!~ *grin* (no offense to all the tutu wearers out there) Yep, a lei and all the ~real~ wear. Every dancer had to make their own tahitian skirt that involved buying a raw tahitian skirt whose reeds are the actual dried leaves and then taking a sewing needle and painstakingly ’splitting it’ :o) by running the needle down the length of each leaf to make each strand less than a quarter inch; it takes hours, lots of them! Then there’s the tassles that hang on the skirt and the hand skirts to split, next you get to pick a fabric and sew that on, decorate it and there it is! For me, I think it took me upwards of 70 hours (?) to make. The color, orange. The theme, sunshine. 
) Lots of hours go into making the costumes. I had a great dance teacher, my surrogate. I have a new workout tape and I’m shooting for minimal injury.
hehehehehe … hey, if you manage to accomplish that, let me know how you did it bc I really s*cked big! in the minimal injury dept. I could use all the tips I can get! Detour sorry… *snickering* I guess it’d be fair to say that music moves both our ppls in lots of ways, evoking a wide array of emotions and memories strongly associated with such. Yes! My "movement" is the human voice. Well, I’m a singer, although not professional, just the occasional choir and shower-variety-opera type.
Kewl!!! I’d love to hear you sing. I ~know~ we have lots of talent in this group. I know ppl can write and draw, paint, do karate and I bet there are other singers in this group too. Come out! Come out wherever you are! *grin* I’m still trying to figure out some of the downloading and sending of music… have you ever recorded yourself, hmm? :o) So I’ll sing while you dance.
Now we’re talking!!! An asd talent show! I love talent shows. Or maybe an asd campfire campout! We’ll bring some tiki torches and at the beach, that’s kewl. It sounds like you were hesitant to send along your writing, but I’m glad you did, because it means a lot to me. I’m honored to be a witness to your strength and inspired by your words on a personal level. *blushing profusely* Thank you for bearing witness and for listening. I will pass along your post to the rest of TN. Yes, please, and thank you.
Have done and yer welcome. I’d be interested in hearing more about the inspiration on a p-level if you want to share. *gentle nudge* Either medium, private or here. More in email, but basically what I feel safe saying here is this: we have an exquisite appreciation of *stringing beads*… pieces of pieces… for us they are like mercury…
You mean that silvery liquid that does really neat things?! *excited* and how much work, time, and healing has to take place before the pieces form an epiphany of energy that can be shared throughout the inside world, understood, and then released. It’s much different, than, say, the big, known, always dealing with stuff that you chip away at, and it shrinks down and fades, or perhaps it forms or joins other tiny streams toward a later epiphany?
I like to think all things form to join other streams towards some later. ) That was a question, right. *g* I liked what you said about the sharing, understanding and release. What was experienced here was very much that. I don’t know about ‘throughout’ as in all of TN was involved. I’m of the mind to think, not everyone, only key ppl. I figure if there is more for us in the ‘later’ to process around this then I trust that it will happen in it’s own time, just like this time … naturally. In the meantime, we have a h*ll of a lot of others things we can do with ourselves, right? Afterward, there’s this unique kind of clarity and sense of resolution.
Yes! Yes! More "self"…more authentic, grounded, wise, self. Tears come more easily, but I always feel like I’ve gained more availability to relationships and to hope, itself.
I like the way you describe your experiences of same. (Our most difficult relationship perhaps being the one we have with the concept of "future".)
You and me both! I think I’m standing in my future! How about you? How about this… first you tell me what ‘future’ is and how we can get there and I’ll figure out what we can both do once we’re there. How’s that? *grin* I thought about you while driving in the car today,
Really? This could be serious. *kidding* wondering if you are enjoying a similar sense of what we’ve experienced on these poignant, rare occasions. It was painful, but I heard how good it was, too.
Yes and yes! I definitely feel better for the experience that’s for sure. There’s been some extra beads since and that’s ok, to be expected I think. More importantly, we’re all ok, Kym … really ok … maybe even more than ok. At first, I wondered if we’d just exhausted ourselves we were so calm and it was so quiet, everyone feeling / being ok. And now, I think this is it. This is the stuff! I understand now more than ever, why I became the therapist and the benefits to having a therapist in the TN / rl family. I have the education, skill and compassion to help us navigate our multiple paralleling, sometimes overlapping transbiopsychosocial lives. *big smiles* Wow, transbiopsychosocial, huh? I’d like to know more about this.
*giggling* My own paradigm. Sure, I’ll share what I’ve put together. Another time, k. Remind me. I can’t be a therapist because I think I’d find it too painful/difficult, but part of my training involves clinical work,
Remind me again what your goal is? I know you told me but my mind well, I’m in a lupus flare at the moment and with that goes some of my retrieval memory. Too bad I can’t be more like this new puter. I could use a GoBack program for when I make boo-boos or am sick and I need to reset or rest the whole situation back in time and start again. Or how about a good search engine for those lost details, items, information and more that I seem to keep losing and don’t always find when I need them. I could use those. Bet you could too huh? and I’m not sure how to navigate through that.
That’s going to be a toughie for you then. Feel free to chew my ear if you like… ok, nibble. We may have a sensitive hearing thing going on here but we still need to hear. *snickering* Take gentle care, Thanks. Will do, Kym. You do the same. Will do!
Now, for those directions on how to get to the future and we’re set! I miss you. It’s good to hear from you again. Thanks for saying. You’re often in my thoughts.
) I recently got a new puter bc all of everything got lost in the old Mac recently. So now I can add your addy once again! Stop disappearing! *kidding* So tell me, how’s life been treating you these days? I’ll send email this weekend.
Ok. Again– thanks for what you shared. We have some things in common, you and I, and I am glad to know that.
I hear you. Thanks for being a friend, Kym. Sierra of TN
Response:
Sierra, I keep trying to read your post, but I keep getting triggered and stopping. I’m sorry. It’s only in the after spoiler part that it happens, so I realize that you’ll have some sympathy. The thing is, I am glad that you feel enough trust here at asd to confide these things, so I’m sorry about my own problems that stand in the way of listening to everything that you have to say. I’ll revisit the post when I am more stable and secure with myself(ves). Meanwhile, thank you for writing it. spoilered for response ot part of you r spoliered part: o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o and, also, I want to say, I have this same thing about lip balm. Like, if I ever realize that I’ve left the house without it, I rush to a store and buy some, no matter what condition my lips are in. If I’m close enough, I go home and get it. Anywya i alwaysas have piles of fresh ones in my mediciaint cabinet just in case. and i remember only just now that i read that part of the after spiler thing that when i was little before i was ten yerars old i always had very bad chapped lips and big red patches down my chin and up to my nose of raw dried and sometimes bleeding skin and lots of cold sores all the time. so, that’s a memory i got from reasding your stuff and its’ good fro me to remember but you can see how i am triggered by it, right? i just scanned a bit of the post just now and that’s where i got. i’m sorry and i hope that you will keep writing to us.about yourself and i’maa very sorrry about the bad bad things that happened to you trill
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Thank you for sharing such profound insight and honoring yourselves, Sierra of TN. Peace Brave Hearts – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Hello trill, Sierra, I keep trying to read your post, but I keep getting triggered and stopping. I’m sorry.
It’s ok. ‘Stopping’ is what you need to do to take care of you. It’s only in the after spoiler part that it happens, so I realize that you’ll have some sympathy. The thing is, I am glad that you feel enough trust here at asd to confide these things, so I’m sorry about my own problems that stand in the way of listening to everything that you have to say.
Tis ok, really. No apology necessary. Maybe you’ll be able to read some other post of mine. It doesn’t have to be this one nor every one, k. I’ll revisit the post when I am more stable and secure with myself(ves).
If you want. Pls know that myself and TN are doing ok, that we’re not struggling over this and in need of support. It was just a share. Meanwhile, thank you for writing it.
Yer welcome. spoilered for response ot part of you r spoliered part:
Cya below. – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o o and, also, I want to say, I have this same thing about lip balm. Like, if I ever realize that I’ve left the house without it, I rush to a store and buy some, no matter what condition my lips are in. If I’m close enough, I go home and get it.
Same here. We keep one in the glove compartment of the car now, our emergency spare on-the-road lipbalm. *grin* Anywya i alwaysas have piles of fresh ones in my mediciaint cabinet just in case. and i remember only just now that i read that part of the after spiler thing that when i was little before i was ten yerars old i always had very bad chapped lips and big red patches down my chin and up to my nose of raw dried and sometimes bleeding skin and lots of cold sores all the time. so, that’s a memory i got from reasding your stuff
Sad mem. :o( and its’ good fro me to remember but you can see how i am triggered by it, right?
Yes, trill I do. *solemnly said* i just scanned a bit of the post just now and that’s where i got.
Afaic, brave of you to have gotten that far as difficult a time as you appear to have been having with the content of my post. i’m sorry
It’s ok. and i hope that you will keep writing to us.about yourself
Thanks for the invitation to. and i’maa very sorrry about the bad bad things that happened to you
I’ll pass this and your post along to the others. Thank you trill for reading as much as you could and for honoring yourself and your needs to take care of you. Sierra of TN – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Sierra and all of TN, your description of your healing, cleansing experience is very powerful and moving. I am very happy for you that you were able to go through this healing process. I admire your strength and courage in allowing yourself to go into the depths of these feelings and memories and in making these connections. Thank you for sharing this. -Nancy
*blushing* Thank you for reading our share, Nancy. It was a very healing, cleansing experience, powerful and moving. Very much so. Sierra of TN
Response:
Hello dyenths, (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. how wonderful! hardest thing for me to explain to people is why dissolving into tears is a *good* thing for me…..
Maybe they don’t cry enough? :o/ Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! ahh… got napster awhile back…got some great tunes. Spent monday morning with America’s "I need you" & Pat Benetar’s "Heck is for Children"… totalled me…
I’ll have to listen to those sometime. I don’t know if I’ve heard these. Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* *sniffles* normally not bothered as long as I’m warned…
Nice to know. fell apart rather badly after my T. appt today…
( and the *sweet kisses* <were really nice. thank you!
Yer welcome. just about destr*yed me,
( so I’ll pass on your rememberances for now,
) Glad you are doing such to take care of you. with regrets. My heart(s)felt sympathy for your pain.
Thanks dyenths. Take gentle care, k. Sierra of TN
Response:
Hello some of Ravensong, Sierra and all of TN, we were deeply moved by your words, and by the courage it took to connect your thoughts, feelings, and picture-memories to make sense of times past. thank you for sharing these steps of your journey with us…
Yer very welcome, some of Ravensong. Thank you for taking the time and braving reading it. Hard stuff to read and listen to. So, thanks. Sierra of TN
Response:
Hello Beauty, Please accept the sad compassion we feel for such painful truths. I do, thanks. I’ll pass this post along to the rest of TN as well. I’m sure others will appreciate it. Thank you for accepting.
*smiles* It is scary-painful-brave to know them. Yes, it is. *solemn nod* [Feeling them, however we can, empathically - sorry, we can't help it - it's what we do.]
Tis ok. I do it too. We wish we could have helped. Helped? Helped when we were younger or the other day? *gg* I’m kidding with you, Beauty. *smiles* Younger. Sounds like you didn’t need help the other day. I mean it.
Thanks. It’s really sweet of you to want to have helped then. Even I feel this way. Sierra of TN – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Hey Sierra Very intense. ( thank you for sharing this experience with us.. We have one that thinks h**king is no biggie also. Maybe soon we’ll feel safe enough to let her post about stuff I’m really glad(honoured, in fact) that you feel safe enough that you were able to post about this mourning process Thank you J/c
– Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Yer welcome, Brave Hearts. Thank you for reading it. Sierra of TN – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – Thank you for sharing such profound insight and honoring yourselves, Sierra of TN. Peace Brave Hearts (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
Response:
Hello J/c, Hey Sierra Very intense. (
Yeah. *deep breath* thank you for sharing this experience with us..
Yer welcome. You have our thanks for reading it. We have one that thinks h**king is no biggie also. Maybe soon we’ll feel safe enough to let her post about stuff
I’d love to hear what she has to say. I doubt Sadie would write here. I doubt Sadie would write, period. I don’t think it’s in her repertoire re: communication with others. I’m really glad (honoured, in fact) that you feel safe enough that you were able to post about this mourning process Thank you
*smiles* Sierra of TN – Hide quoted text — Show quoted text – (Written yesterday – edited for public consumption) That was today… a day of mourning. I wasn’t planning to mourn today but I did and it was a huge energy release… bigtime! I was quite literally heaving in tears and I’ve rarely ever reached an emotional plane of that intensity. Back up. With this new puter I downloaded Napster.com so we could download music off the net. I downloaded two songs that I have liked for a long time and never bought, Wh*tney H*uston’s (o) – I Will Always Love You and 4 Non Bl*nds (o) – WhatsUp. The first, symbolizes how I feel about my ex-SO. Every so often, I mourn the loss and embrace myself in the depth of the love I still have for this man. The latter song, really touched a raw nerve of some deep pain here and when that nerve got hit today, it hit hard! Spoiler here for remembrances and acceptances of s*x*al abuse, child pr*stitution / ensl*vement. Graphic. Pls take care of self/ves and tuck little ones in safely before proceeding. *if ok, sweet kisses on the foreheads for all the children* *smiles* I haven’t let myself revisit any of this for a long time. The last time I revisited this stuff was when I was working with a therapist. With her, I was giving myself permission to string and ponder bits-n-pieces to events that I had either thought were incidental and meaningless in my life or had ignored – denied entirely; I began considering these events in a different light than what I had previously believed. I’ve long had extreme emotional detachment when it comes to anything having to do with other TN member’s experiences of s*xual abuse, child pr*stitution and pr*miscuity. There is a TN member whose lived with the belief that "r*pe me" is tattooed on her forehead. We have another who believes ‘hooking is no biggie". There’s a wide variety of feelings, beliefs and experiences here and today, some of them came home to me and were felt intensely. It was never ok before for me to feel anything about anything having to do with s*x, s*xual abuse, whatever. I don’t recall any of what others have, I have my own version and it’s not that mine doesn’t count nor theirs but when I strung them together as each of us experienced things or gave other possible meanings, I identified a loss for me and of my own. So, even though I don’t possess the mems of such disgraces, I suffered a loss as well. I’m not explaining this very well, sorry. The bits-n-pieces were as follows … four consecutive summers spent with the maternal grandmother. I remember cleaning a lot and I remember a downstairs basement where a dog cage existed. I remember the smell of moth balls and the money belt that she wore around her waist with hundred dollar bills stuffed into it. I remember I didn’t like being there. Several scattered beads of memory, nothing overtly important. We have this insane need to be in constant possession of chap stick or some lubricant for the lips. We cannot be without this in our possession. The worst anxiety attacks prevail and there is this intense smacking and licking of the lips that happens to the point of turning the entire outer ring of the lips red sore from all the licking. It’s pretty bad. Fortunately, we haven’t had this intense licking and obvious rawness around the lips happen in many years and it’s bc we constantly stay in possession of lip balm. I looked at these experiences around lip balm and it occurred to me that the grandmother started this to perhaps deal with the effect of cracked / hurting lips from the forced or coerced c*p*lation on men. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. A few more beads. I remember being taught to use corn starch to treat yeast infections and I had them all the time. She started this too. I’m thinking to offset the yeast infections that children get when they’re being s*xually abused. Makes sense. I didn’t like that it made sense and there it is. More beads. I remember she sent me home with brand new underwear and back then I thought it was a take-home gift. The underwear was mixed in with a new shirt or dress, all so neatly masked. The underwear that we had come with couldn’t be sent home bc of the bl**d stains. I don’t remember the bl**d-stained underwear, another here does. It makes sense. I don’t like that it does and there it is. Yet more beads. A TN member long ago drew a black-n-white sketch of the dog cage that existed in that basement. The memory for her is one of being locked in it with the GM’s Pekinese dogs who did things to her even I can’t put into written nor spoken word. She carries memories of other tortures as well. Painful, painful experiences/memories to carry. My heart breaks into pieces for her and for us all. These beads hurt. We didn’t deserve these beads. No child does. A mother who knew her mother was a pr*stitute and when she was young "had tried to sell me but I fought them off’ or so she says. Maybe she only convinced herself of that and has wished so much that she believed it to be true. So how could she send her daughters to live with her knowing her potential for selling little girls and torturing them? A legacy of pain and denial passed on, how else can one explain the obvious contradiction. But maybe it’s not a contradiction afterall if the behavior / choice is consistent with no bond between us. I’ve never felt love for her and I don’t feel she has for me either. I’ve felt, dreamed and mourned the fantasy of the love for / by a mother. A bead of perpetual sadness and loss. The utter insanity of it all strung together in a precession that led me to acceptance that this is prolly the truest version of events and with great force an emotional upheaval of tears came through me. It was a good cry. I did some intense emotional work today. We all did. And for today, it was enough. Maybe enough for a lifetime. Acceptance comes with a price. The up-side… at least this time, the price tag didn’t accompany a shrinkage in my checkbook (no therapist to pay nor needed!). *smiles* No replies needed. I don’t even know why I’m posting this bc I’m not in need of help nor support around what’s happened, hence the ‘No reply needed’. Maybe bc it feels right to and I’m not even sure where that feeling comes from. Oh well, I hope this isn’t a moment I’ll regret later or find out I’m suffering from some delusion of safety that I’m temporarily experiencing and being swept away by. So here goes… one click and it’s off. Sierra of TN
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