The memories that have been rearing up at me are horrifying to my conscious mind. I keep them pushed down and away from me all the time but everyday they are there wanting to be heard, to be felt and accepted.
I am back to living in two time streams, both bleeding into one another to disastrous effect. Driving is hazardous, being in groups (which I had to be at work this week) makes me shaky and disoriented, so I'm tripping over chairs and spilling my coffee. It's embarrassing - probably not bad enough for others to notice but bad enough for me to feel as though I am trying to hold down a hot air balloon with no ropes. I float out of my body almost entirely. I don't want to be in it, because Someone is there ( a 5 year old girl) and in her time stream we are locked in a box with a bloody, mutilated child , trying not to breathe, trying not to move, trying to be dead.
I've known this for a long time. But since my father wrote and called me a liar, discredited me in every way he could I've disowned this memory just as thoroughly as he has disowned me. I don't completely understand why but I think I'm trying to protect myself.
He knew the majority of what happened to me. He saw some of my journals, my paintings, my writing, he heard me telling him and through all these things he Believed Me. Now he doesn't and i don't know why he's stopped. I think because I've made him angry, because I've not been grateful for his occasional interest and care because he can't make it better and I'm not interested in letting him try. Because I've dared to be angry with him for leaving me to grow up with a paedophile. for expecting him to love me as i am and not expecting me to be the woman i would have been without the abuse.
I hate him, with every fibre of my being for what he's done to me and yet I've been denying my own truth in much the way he has denied me.
But I have to stop. And Petra is helping me.
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