Choices I made...

I wonder why I do not write.
I think about it very often, I write mentally, yet when I get to either the blog or my paper journal I get blank.
I very rarely make it to here, normally I try my journal first. But there are two posts half written that I never posted...

So, what brought me here today? I am feeling low. My self-esteem and self-confidence are going down to worrying levels.
I have been unemployed for a few months now. I left my job because I was very unhappy at the place. I didn't like the way my boss treated me, or managed the group, and I saw very little, or none, intention or possibility for the situation to change.
I was in a bad place personally as well, although things where getting better on that front. I felt the job was bringing me down. I thought I always put up with things that are not good for me. Relationships mainly, with friends, partners and family. I thought it would be good for me to think about my well being, short term, stop always trying to do the safest thing, save for the future. My decision was made on the present, what I wanted.
At the time I wanted out of the job, the place, and I wanted to consider a change in career, having realised that although I was interested in the subject maybe I had not thought much about other options.
I have a degree, a masters and a phd in physics. However there are other things I am interested in.
When I started my degree I was confused. Still living home, being told that I had a very analytical mind and should go for science. Well, that had been going on for a few years, and I was already doing sciences in high school.

While working as a researcher I felt like I was a fake, a fraud. The pressure from my boss to constantly prove myself didn't help. He was understanding at first about my depression. We agreed that I would not take the medical leave that I was entitled to and offer by my doctor, but that I would have flexible hours and try to work through it. Cutting a long story short, after a while I realised he was a doubled faced person and although he had encouraged me to take higher responsibility role within the group we were working with (collaborating with many other institutions) he had not confirmed this position officially (and neglected to tell me). There were other issues that went on behind my back, and what really made it was the insinuation that I had not being honest and forward coming with him. Not only that he would "say" it, but the time chosen and the way of twisting my words and manipulating facts.
All in all, he really made me feel quite inadequate. It is funny how knowing that the facts he was using were "wrong" I still feel as if he was right. I feel like I am not good enough.
I left convinced that this was the right thing for me, and that I could do whatever I wanted.
I suspected that I had not thought enough about what I wanted. Of course I did think about it many times over the years, but there were many pressures external and internal, and I wasn't sure about why I had made the choices I did. The whole situation made me think about other times when I have done something just to prove I could. To me or to others, or both (establishing that would require more analysis).

I wonder if this happens to other survivors. I seem to be intrinsically insecure. It doesn't matter who much I achieve. How many times I prove I can do what I set myself to do, I still feel that I am not good enough, that it was a fluke, i didn't really do it alone, and so on.

I think one of the issues i am having trouble with now is in a sense status. Before I could say what I did with some pride, people would react positively to hearing that I was a researcher, which meant I had a phd.
Ironically enough this would irritate me, I could see how they were forming and image of me before getting to know me at all. I think I felt a bit the same way as when I used to get attention, from men mainly, because I was attractive. Though the assumption that I was clever and someone being drawn to that was less annoying to me that going on looks, still there was something to it. I guess a part of me that said "I am not my profession!, that is not what a person is about".
However, now without a job, I find myself lost.
When I look at alternatives for my career, I hate myself as I realise that I would like to be able to say I was a researcher in physics.
I don't know if I would feel differently if I had another job, but right now, there is an overwhelming feeling of failure.
What is worse, I am convinced this was always going to be like this. That I kidded myself thinking that completing the phd would make a difference to the fact that I was always just going to be... a failure for lack of a better word.

The feeling is very very deep, and it is not only related to the job, but I am not sure I will be able to convey it.

When I took my previous job I moved. I was living with my boyfriend with whom I had a bad relationship.
Soon after I left we broke up.
Even now, after two years, and even though I am in another relationship now, I feel like I am not doing what I am supposed to. I spent many years with this boyfriend; we had broken up before and then got back together (more than once), even though the relationship never really improved much. I kept trying and putting up with things that were damaging for my self-esteem, self-respect, and in general made impossible for me to be confident.
Two years down the line I still feel like I am just pretending to scape my destiny.
I have had the same kind of feeling about leaving home. My family lives very closed together, almost all of them in the same city. I moved far away, and have been far away for a long time now. Yet I still feel, many times, this is just a break, and reality will come catch up with me soon.

Is as if I couldn't really change my life, I was supposed to be something different. Be home, not have control over my life, not be happy, not even try to be happy.
I guess it feels I was just suppose to be the invisible unimportant, "for use" person that I feel I was, and maybe I feel that I deserve to be.

ripples from the past

So, I haven't posted for such a long long time...
Many times I am tempted, no surprise when I feel bad, and mainly when it is related to the experiences that lead me to start the blog. Then I realise that the way I process most thing is in some way or another related to those experiences.
So what happened today... I find myself trapped by my past. Reacting to things in the present because of how things have been in the past. And I get annoyed and frustrated with myself because even when is happening I notice, but I can't stop myself.
Words come out of my mouth that I don't really mean, but I don't stop.
However much I try to stop myself, to think, calm down, breathe, just don't let the feeling take over me and make the situation worse... I can't, I set my own trap and I inevitably fall onto it.

I hate everything about it, but I think what I hate most is feeling so out of control.
Knowing that I am making thing harder for myself, knowing that I should just not act on these feelings as they will pass, and more importantly are a reaction to an internal trigger rather than the present situation; but yet not being able to, that is what really gets me.
Not being able to control and trust myself.

Besides the things said and done which will need mending, there is the erosion to my self confidence. I thought I was better, I though I could do better.
But some feeling still knock me down as a fast train running over me.
And then starts the anxiety about when will it happen again.
I found myself lying in bed not moving because... I am not sure, because all I wanted to do was break things, shout, hurt myself... . nothing that I felt could be let out.
So it all goes inwards, and I end up paralyzed, hoping that at least tears will come, because I need a non destructive outlet. But tears don't come.
I maned to get to some breathing exercises, and then move into drinking wine, more than I should of course, but I don't care today.
Today is all about manging to get through the day, without breaking anything,hurting myself, or creating more trouble with closed friends.
Tomorrow will be about figuring out what to do best next time.
I was going to leave for tomorrow the figuring out what feeling exactly triggered all this, and then it just hit me.
I felt trapped into this charade I feel my life has always been, when someone close to me knowing that I am having a very bad day (nightmares started it) tells me (or I think they do) that I have to behave normally, that they are not to put up with my erratic behavior. So, suck it up, and be the normal "happy" person we want to deal with, and don't you even think about taking time for yourself, you ought to be with us because we love you and want to spend time with you.
And I still fall for that, I am apparently still unable to see that I just can't do it, and that I shouldn't have to.
The ones who love me should let me do what is best for me and not ever ask me to put myself aside to satisfy their will (because it wasn't even a need).

Family visit

I had my mother visiting this past weekend, for about four days.
It has been hard in a sense. My relationship with my her, and my feelings about our relationship are complicated, even confusing.

She is not the one responsible for what happened. I know this, yet there are things I think I resent her for. Or at least I did for some time.
Some of them are related to what I see as ignoring signs that something was wrong, other have to do with reactions and things have happened after I told her.

Over time I have come to accept and understand my mother's limitations, and her difficulty in dealing with it all. It has taken her time to assimilate.
I always knew that it was going to be hard for her, I tried since the first moment I told to make clear that he always behaved very different when she was around. Yet I know she has felt responsible and in a certain way blamed herself.
I also know that a part of me feels in a sense let down by her, even if I know the responsibility lies completely on my father.

I think I don't resent her for these issues anymore, yet somehow they are part of our relationship. I don't rely on her for anything.
I realised when talking to my C prior to the visit, how stuck I am with respect to my family. Well, I already knew that, what I got to realised was that I was not ready at all to consider that anything could change in that area.
I had come to the conclusion some time ago, after years of longing for some support and understanding, that it was never going to happen. So I decided to stop waiting, and closed that door. Managed, after a long time, to accept it, and learned how to be around them without hurting too much.
They have become somehow something apart form my life in a sense.
I am trying to get myself into a life where I feel comfortable.
I have stopped relationships with people that made me feel uncomfortable, or unsafe, or somehow on edge or wary (except for them, my family).
So I am not very sure how I regard them. I haven't tried to stop contact, though it has become less frequent with time. It is not my intention to not see them again, and I do visit myself sometimes. I feel some sort of obligation to do so, that I know I have imposed to myself.

This behaviour goes apparently against everything that I am trying to change in my life, and it makes difficult what I intend to achieve.

So, in the light of all this I tried to talk to mother a bit about some of the issues.
Conversation was long and difficult, and I am not sure it was what I wanted it to be.
I kept changing my mind about whether or not I wanted to talk to her while she was here, so it finally came out without having been properly planned or thought out.

I guess time will tell if anything is to change.

On the positive side, we did not argue, and in general none if us took a defensive position, or a hostile one.

back, with a question about love

I haven't posted for almost a year now. I have thought of starting a new blog; seems like a failed to make this one work, and wanted to start fresh. Then, I realized that there are no real fresh starts in a sense. I always carry what was written here, I always carry the sense of failure of every unfinished project, and most of all, the sense of failure to get over "things".

How many times I have been told that what I have to do is just get over it.
I am very depressed now, I have been for a few months, well, don't even know how long.
More than one person, friends, have told me that I have to move on, because I am getting stuck, and it is affecting my professional life and that will just make things worse; as if I didn't know all that.

So, I failed to write this blog. I failed to express myself, and to share my story, more importantly my feelings, which is what I was seeking.
It is not surprise then how isolated and asphyxiated I feel.
I have been trying to get back in to the blog sphere for quite a while, going back to read peoples' blogs and many times wanting to comment. But I haven't been able to get over myself and get out there. It feels bad, because I wanted to be able to offer support to others. But that would have also meant doing something good for myself, and that apparently I can not do.

I don't know what is different today, I guess I still don't know if it is any different, haven't posted this yet, it is so far a draft. Haven't been able to comment on other blogs, though I tried (I hope I will if I can get this out there).
I have been having terrible thoughts lately, most survivors know about this; not wanting to carry on, I do not wish to die, but I do not wish to live either, and sometimes seems so pointless to carry on. I know the only reason I am still here is because is what happens if I do nothing.
These feelings, or lack of them, have been there for a long time.
Something has change recently. I have been finding myself angry, very angry, angry beyond reason, raging. It is such in uncomfortable sensation. But I don't know how to get out of it. Frustration, anger, hate, anxiety...all at once. I want to tear my insides out.
Trying to find out what triggers it, and why, I ended up doing an exercise that I found in a book. It didn't seem so much related but I came across it and seem interesting. The idea was to write a list of painful experiences and situations from childhood, actually all the way to adulthood, and then think about what decisions about myself others and life I made because of those experiences.

Here is what I found. (it is not really organized, I am afraid)
I am not lovable, just 'usable'. I am undeserving.
I am primarily a sexual being, not a person.
I am unimportant.
People only love you for what they can get out of you, there is not such thing as selfless, "free", care.
I am less important than everyone else, I should never expect support, I do not deserve it.
People who love you will turn on you, and use the feelings you trusted them with against you.
Being loved= being controlled.
It is not good to be good at something.
Relationships are power struggles, you have to fight to be respected and listened to, constantly. My feelings do not really matter.
It is not ok to be angry.
It is bad to point out peoples' flaws, I should overlook them.
Women are doormats, should not stand up for themselves.
No one is safe, (particularly those who love you).

So, this is my concept of love.
I am thinking this is not how it is supposed to be is it?

I thought I wanted to be loved, but I guess that is not what I need, I want to be safe, to trust someone. To be able not have guard myself, to be able to be open.

I can be open with people sometimes, but not because I trust them, but because I know I can take the pain when they turn on me, or away from me.
I see opening up as a short term relief that I will pay for later on, and as long as I can pay the price, it is ok.

It is sad, very sad, and I think there is no real comfort on it.

Might it be where my anger comes from?

IF

I found this poem, by Rudyard Kipling, when I was about 13.
It did touch me deeply then, and has been in my mind ever since.
Some days, like today, I feel drawn to it again.

If

If you can keep your head when all about you
Are losing theirs and blaming it on you;
If you can trust yourself when all men doubt you,
But make allowance for their doubting too;
If you can wait and not be tired by waiting,
Or, being lied about, don't deal in lies,
Or, being hated, don't give way to hating,
And yet don't look too good, nor talk too wise;

If you can dream - and not make dreams your master;
If you can think - and not make thoughts your aim;
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two imposters just the same;
If you can bear to hear the truth you've spoken
Twisted by knaves to make a trap for fools,
Or watch the things you gave your life to broken,
And stoop and build 'em up with wornout tools;

If you can make one heap of all your winnings
And risk it on one turn of pitch-and-toss,
And lose, and start again at your beginnings
And never breath a word about your loss;
If you can force your heart and nerve and sinew
To serve your turn long after they are gone,
And so hold on when there is nothing in you
Except the Will which says to them: "Hold on";

If you can talk with crowds and keep your virtue,
Or walk with kings - nor lose the common touch;
If neither foes nor loving friends can hurt you;
If all men count with you, but none too much;
If you can fill the unforgiving minute
With sixty seconds' worth of distance run -
Yours is the Earth and everything that's in it,
And - which is more - you'll be a Man my son!

---------Rudyard Kipling---------------------

About this blog

I wanted to explain what the aim of the blog is. I guess I wasn't all that clear when I started what I wanted it to be about. I thought I wanted to tell about the molestation explicitly, but as I go on I realise that what I really want to comunicate is how I felt about it.
I realise now, that what weights more for me is not the times that he did touch me, but the feeling of fear, uneassines, violation that I lived with all those years.
Those feelings where there everyday, I grew up with them and I think that is why they are such a deep part of me, I hosted them not only the days something would happen, but everyday.
I always felt unsafe, undeserving. I learnt a twisted version of love.
I never felt I could tell my mother, or anyone about it, and I think that has to do with her, and my relationship with her, which obviously also affected my deeply. Then there is also the rest of the family, my brother and other memebers that were very close to me, but that I never confided in. Why? there is a reason to it, and not only has to do with the abuse, but with the family dynamic.

I want to comunicate these feelings more than the details of the molestation. I will keep trying to do it by telling about particular events because I find very hard to explain these things otherwise.
I would like to able to show how and why I felt like a prisioner on my own skin. Why life felt as a sentence more than anything else.

I don't think the posts are going to be cronological.
I have tried, but things come to me as they come, and that is not in cronological order, I now that makes more difficult to graps things, but I don't think I can do otherwise.
For example the one thing that has been on my mind recently, is the time when I have been closet to suicide, and wil probably be my next post (maybe even today).

Inevitably growing up

I did well with my wish.
My breasts didn’t grow. Even today they are very small. Now that I have put a bit of weight on is the first time I do not have problems to find a bra that will fit me. Though of course, I still use the smallest size.
I was very skinny as kid, and I did develop late. So I had a very childish look even as a teenager.
But that didn’t help me as much as I had hoped for.

I guess this was soon after the event of the last entry.

We were going to visit my father’s family for a long weekend; Monday was holiday I can’t remember why.
They lived a 4 or 5 hours drive away. The plan was to pick up my mother from work Saturday afternoon and then just go.

The night before something strange happened to me. I woke up in the middle of the night all wet. I was sure I hadn’t pee on myself, I hadn’t done that much even as a very young kind. There was this weird fluid in my underwear, it was too dense to be pee, but I had no idea what it was. I changed and went back to bed, but in the morning I was wet again. I didn’t want to say anything to my brother or my father. I was very ashamed, and I didn’t want to bring attention to me, even less to my intimate parts.

On the drive, I asked to stop to go to the restroom a few times, I wanted to check and get clean if needed. Eventually once my other came with me, and I told her what was going on. She explained to me that it was normal, it was just discharge, and I hadn’t had it before because it happens when you develop. The conversation was still going when we got back to the car, and she continued talking about it in front of my father and brother. She started explaining how it meant that I was growing into a woman and that probably soon I would get my period and notice a few changes in my body shape in general.
I must have looked very uncomfortable about all that, and I guess that is why she continued going deeper in the topic. I was very uncomfortable because he was getting notification of what I was hoping was not obvious by my appearance. I was growing up.
I sat there in my corner at the back of the car, nodding as my mother talked, in the hope that she would stop, even if only for my brother who was bored of the topic already.
I didn’t even want to look at him, but I saw him moving the mirror of the car. He could see me now, and there was nothing I could do. I could see him looking at me as well; I could see that “smile” in his face. If I were to describe it now, I would call it lust.
Back then I didn’t have a word for it, but I had the images and feelings in my mind. I knew what it meant he was thinking. I pressed my legs together as tight as possible. I curled up in the back of the car and pretended to sleep.
I knew I would be safe at his mothers place. There was always someone with us.
Trouble mainly would be in the summer, when he had holidays and mum had to work.