Shattered Glass Life After Abuse

It has been about a year since I have posted. (Whoa, no, I checked. It has been two years.) My parents died -- the only ones I ever had:  one allowed me to be horribly abused, and the other inflicted the torture. Then, a year after their death, I have been working full-time (amazingly) and have not had time to write. I am currently, finally, unemployed and doing a lot of reflecting. My work contract ended. I was very glad -- both that I was able to fulfill it and that it was over. I am mentally to the point that I can function in the world--society--and hold down a job. I suppose this is a good thing--though, I push myself to do it. I have considered that it might be an alter--a compartmental part of myself--that can function highly that has emerged. I say this because when I had a week off of work I rested. Then, when I had to return to work I began to freak out, becoming very suicidal in thought. I so badly did not want to return. However, I literally forced myself to do...

Being a survivor of child abuse doesn't seem to ever end in "she lived happily ever after again." I have made so much progress, but on days that I dip - frankly, I hate it: disassociation. The past few days I have felt like I was in my body but another person was controlling me - Miss. Edgy Depresso! I tried to hide in my bedroom because I didn't want to snap at anyone. I knew I was plunging; a few days ago I had my girlfriend pray for me. I know when things are not right; I feel it all over my body: heart races or pounds, blood vessels bulge in my hands, my arms feel like someone has punched them, and I am irritable. Yet, the worst symptom is feeling trapped inside my body and the mood--unable to snap out of it. All I can do is keep "bubble wrap" around me and try to lower any pressure or stimulus so I wont pop. I pass mirrors and see such a sad face; a shell; a flat affect - zombie lady. Where did I go? If this never happens to you, feel ble...

I am hurt. I am angered. I take Psychiatric Medication. I don't take it because I WANT to take it. I take it because it is the one thing in the world that I have found to stabilize my body and mental functions. People whose body functions normally can shrug off or reject this medication as simply 'all in the mind' and not really necessary. (Sure you can because it doesn't effect you personally. You know not what you speak about.) But people like me - who have tried everything - who have suffered greatly - more deeply than most will  ever be able to understand or even empathize with. People who function completely by their mental and physical strength - often known as willpower-  look at others who can't as weak or less of a persons. But NO, it is quite the opposite! Someone who is willing to face their own weaknesses and able to go completely against the stigma and strong current of accepted social and religious philosophy, and to squarely mak...

His Blood For Me Bleed the pain... it pours like a heavy rain. And it cuts, feel the pain, it's so sharp. It's the raw edge of pain.When will it end? When will it run dry? Bleed No More..... when will I bleed no more. I know fear, and Fear knows me. I know death, he stares at me. He wanted to take my life, just a child, once upon a time an innocent me... once was... one time... I think, the word "child" was suppose to be, a description of me. No More! It's a lie, it's a lie, it's a lie. I can't die for myself. Stop the cutting, it will never really stop the pain. Each slash is another bar holding my soul in a prison within... going deeper... ever deeper, lost within. The glassy stare, the stone cold face, the numbing way she floats through space. Just a shell of who she could be.  It will never satisfy the gulf - the hollow lifeless agony.  How many others had it stolen away, like me, ripped in anger, punched away? Now be silent, ...

so tired.... so tired..... I don't want to live any more. I am so tired. I have tried, and tried. Worked so very hard to be better, to be a person, to be functional, to be normal. Some would say I have .... I have done so good... I have made progress... My life is better... It is always getting better... but I know the truth......... I know I will never be OK, I will never be like others, I will never be normal, I will never assimilate, fake it til you make it doesn't really work. A life of failures.... I feel so sorry for my husband, his family, my children, friends who have crossed my path, people who just will never try or understand..... Yes, I am mad.... but I am also sorry, and angry, and sleepy, and hurting, and giving up. What reason do I have to fight?