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My Scars Tell a Story

They are reminders of when life tried
to break me… but failed

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Please take a careful note of those words… especially if you yourself are a survivor of child abuse.

There are a few things asked of you as a visitor that you need to keep in mind when you surf through this website so if this is your first visit I ask you to read this page carefully.

You might come across quite a few things that will disturb you… or make your skin crawl…

You will come across writings that include memories of child abuse, sexual, physical, and emotional… Some profanity and/or graphical descriptions either based on memories and/or day to day life can be expected… You can expect to find “free-flow” writings that often are written in a turbulent and uncollected frame of mind…

The Story

This is only a little part of the story…

I have been working on writing my story for over 15-20 years now… It’s impossible for me to just sit down and write it as it brings up memories that are too ugly and too painful to remember… 

This is my life story… a story of survival… This is a story of growing up with a delusional and abusive mother… and a father that made the choice of turning his head and look the other way…  A story of being tortured and fearing for your life every moment of your life… while awake and while asleep…

“My story” of abuse, loss/grief, mental and physical illness is massive (for lack of a better word) and I know sometimes people get thrown back… I however refuse to keep quiet about it and if I feel like talking/writing about something… I just do it…

I tell myself… and others who ask… that I am writing my story…  Yes in a way I am… but I’m finding it difficult for so many reasons…   When I first started this… when it was just a tiny thought… and not even a real idea yet… what I wrote were just some random memories here and there…  sometimes only a few lines… 

Some of the time the memories were coming at me so fast and for many of them I felt almost impossible to catch my breath…

When the memories hit me… Sometimes all I could get out… was a list of words… written while gasping desperately for breath.

Back then, I didn’t even know… or remember…  everything I know today… I do have some pages or events written down already… but at this moment…  I can’t really tell if that’s usable or not.

I feel I do have a problem I have to face… and that is my inability… at times… to tell what is real and what is not real… You see… I have a brain disorder… a chemical imbalance …which at times makes me unaware of what is really going on around me… I see, hear, smell and feel things that aren’t there… This disorder is called Paranoid Schizophrenia by medical professionals.

I know though, that everything I have ever written in the past, for my online journal or my handwritten journal, is what I have felt or thought about at the time it was written… I also know that even though I have tried to be open in my writings there are some things I don’t write about…

I have several entries here in my WordPress that I never posted back in my first blogging days… entries that are either not complete or are too embarrassing, too ugly or unreal to be out there for the public eye.

I have handwritten journals that go way back to when I was a child… something that I have a very difficult time reading… so that is going to take some while to go through… maybe even too long… 

All of this is my number one resources… to be able to someday… finish this story…

With that said there is also the question of where to begin… and how much to tell, not in terms of revealing secrets but rather the quantity… As I sit down and try to make some sort of a frame or structure to go by I have a feeling this project will end up over 4000 pages or at least more than one book.

I know the only way for me is just to write and worry about everything else later… but I guess I’m still trying to find myself in a way… A long time ago I wrote about being trapped inside of my own head…

“He feels ‘out of place’ again… different from every single person he knows… different from everyone who he was once able to have a conversation with or the people he usually “hangs around with”… They have things to do places to go.  At the same time all he has is being trapped inside of himself, alone with his obsessive thoughts of pain, self-destruction and self-hatred…”

I still feel that way sometimes… like now… but now it’s not about pain, self-destruction or self-hatred… Now it’s more about grieving the childhood I never had… and those almost 49 years of my life where there wasn’t a moment without fear of some sort… Without a feeling of having to self-harm… Without guilt… and the longing to tell the world everything that I…  according to my mother ….was not supposed to tell.

Again…. You will come across writings that include memories of child abuse, sexual, physical, and emotional. Some profanity and/or graphical descriptions either based on memories and/or day to day life can be expected.  You will come across writings that are written at a very dark moments of my life. You will read about what goes on inside my head… my thoughts, and they will send you into my world and its dark ugliness, the fear, the chaos and confusion, hallucination, delusions and paranoia. Sure, there are some good and beautiful moments as well… 

but…  finally…. you will need an open mind to be able to read this story.

Some things just can’t be put into words… Some things are just too ugly or too frighting
They only bring on a flood of images from your darkest corners
at a force you cannot handle…

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