Tag Archives: sexual assault

PLEASE SIGN THIS PETITION

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While on Facebook just now I came upon this post:

“CNN: Apologize on air for sympathizing with the Steubenville rapists.” on Change.org.

It’s important. Will you sign it too? Here’s the link:

http://www.change.org/petitions/cnn-apologize-on-air-for-sympathizing-with-the-steubenville-rapists

I know I haven’t done a post in several weeks.  I was out-of-town and have just been dragging my feet.  In my journal entries, I am almost to the sentencing hearing and, at the time, I wasn’t writing much.  I also had to get a copy of the court transcript from that hearing and finally talked to the court reporter yesterday.  With any luck, I should have that in my hands by the end of the week.  When I tell the story of that fiasco, I want to be sure to have the exact words that were said by cockroach boy’s attorney.  It was unbelievable, as you will see.

IT GOT WORSE

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I think I’ve been putting off doing a new post because, first of all, I was getting ‘worse’ rather than better and, secondly, I wasn’t writing as much and there are far less journal entries.  The ones that are available are kind of hard to read, at least for me.   And I am now coming from a place of being completely healed from the attack.  At the time, though, I was so engrossed in my therapy that writing about it was the last thing I was capable of doing.  Of course, that was the very thing that would have been helpful, but as I’ve said many times already, my brain was not functioning properly.  I was doing the best I could from where I was.  So, several more entries…

 

1 February 2012

My neck pain is back with a vengeance.  After I came out of shock, the pain seemed to lessen.  At least  I could move my head again.  Now, though, it hurts as much as ever.  And yesterday I got a horrible headache, which still hurts this morning.  I thought it better not to go to the gym.

 

9 March 2012

I can feel myself slipping further and further over the edge.  It’s a terrible feeling and I’m not sure I can stop it.  I so want to isolate myself from EVERYONE, even, and especially, Bill.  Tomorrow is one year from the day we first met; not the date, which is the 12th, but the actual day.  We are going to Jimmy Buffett, which should make me happy.  I am hopeful that this weekend will not be a repeat of last weekend when I just felt bla.  I started taking 2 SAMe today because I still do not want to take a ‘real’ antidepressant.  Perhaps the higher dose will help.

Mother told me yesterday as we were hanging up that she loves me.  This seems to be what set me off this time.  I just want to feel whole and loved and that I matter and the simple truth is I just don’t.

 

15 March 2012

Once again court has been continued.  Cockroach’s bitch of an attorney still has not gotten his psyche evaluation done.  I wasn’t holding my breath that we’d actually be going to court on the 27th but I was hopeful.  Hopes dashed yet again.

 

20 March 2012

Kind of ironic — I feel better about what I went through in my past, the past I’ve been stuck in for the last couple of months in my therapy, and still, I’m not ‘me.’  I can’t seem to do what I’m supposed to do.  I finally got my new computer (have been without for over 6 weeks) and I still haven’t cleared off my desk so that I can set it up.  I feel stuck in some other pattern or something.  I want to work and I don’t, can’t.  I want to sew.  I want to be working on my new website/project.  I want to be working on my new yoga bags (and eventually, I’m sure, a yoga clothing line).  I want, I want, I want, and what do I do?  Nothing, nothing, nothing, and then some more nothing.  I seem to have lost my drive and determination.  I also ‘lost’ my stomach ache that I had for over a week.  It was caused from my therapy and the events of my childhood that I was revisiting.

What I did today: yoga class, walked with Laura, went to Pacific Beach to get frozen yogurt, then to AmVets on the way home.  Every day I wake up and think, “This’ll be the day,”  that I’ll finally be back on track.  So far, though, it hasn’t happened.  Oh, and today should have been the readiness/fitness hearing for cockroach boy.  Instead, Mary Loeb emailed me the new dates which are 24 May, fitness hearing and, assuming we move forward at that time, 31 May for the prelim.  I made sure the new dates would be when Bill was not in Mexico.

 

21 March 2012

I had a very nice marriage proposal this morning on my second walk.  It’s too bad I’m not into older men, and by older I mean 93 years old!  Still it was nice.

I don’t understand why I can feel almost good one minute and the next feel all the despair I’ve been working so hard to get rid of.  I suppose it’s the depression talking.  I so want to be motivated and the best I can seem to do is get back in bed.

 

22 March 2012

I realize that what I am is not clinically depressed, but situationally depressed.  Whatever you call it, it feels crappy.

 

As you can clearly see, I was more depressed than I realized and I was fighting to not go on an antidepressant.  I took Wellbutrin back in the mid-90s and, though it did what it was supposed to do, it was a horrible experience and I was trying to not repeat it.  At the time, too, although I was depressed and  knew I was depressed, I didn’t think I was really depressed.  Funny how the mind works.  I should also mention that since I am taking these entries directly from my journal and it is my journal, I don’t have to explain things because I know what they mean or who I may be referring to.  For the purpose of this website right now, my only intention is to get my story told.  After that is finished, I will be filling in the blanks and there are a lot of those to be filled.  If I filled them in as I went, this would take a few years to get through.

Another thing I realize that I never wrote about in my journal was back at the end of January or very beginning of February 2012 I decided to compete in a half-marathon.  Because I was, at the time, still having so much trouble forcing myself to walk, I knew that I had to train for something so that I would have to get out there.  I chose the Safari Park Half-Marathon because it benefited the tigers.  The date of the race was 6 May 2012.   So during all this not-being-able-to-do-much-of-anything-period, I was also meant to be training for a 13.1 mile race.  It’s funny (to me) that I never wrote about it, but that’s just another example of how my brain wasn’t working normally.

 

 

ANOTHER PART OF THE (VERY LONG) PROCESS

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After coming out of shock, the fun was just beginning.  Believe me, I use the term ‘fun’ very sarcastically here.  As you will read in the next several entries from my journal, my initial conversation with the D.A. that precipitated my coming out of shock only served to confuse me further when I met with her the day before a scheduled hearing to see what was what and where everything stood at that point.  Really, I was a complete mess at this point in the process.

 

17 January 2012

I may have moved from shock to anger, but now I’m feeling a lot more depressed.  I am meeting with the D.A. today.  She needs to know who I am and that I am expecting her to do her absolute best to make sure cockroach boy pays for his crimes.  Oh, I definitely have mixed feelings about it all.  On the one hand, he violently attacked me and I KNOW he’ll do it again if he is not in jail.  I also know that in jail/prison he will just learn to be a better criminal and may do even worse things when he gets out.  So what’s the answer?  That I do NOT know.  And it turns out that cockroach boy apparently has bipolar disorder and Asperger’s Syndrome.  Oh well, doesn’t excuse his actions one little bit.

 

18 January 2012

Off to the fitness hearing.  Oh, joy.

 

20 January 2012

And more joy — the trial/case/whatever you want to call it is postponed/continued for another 8-10 weeks.  I don’t know the exact dates yet since the D.A. didn’t bother to call and let me know.

 

21 January 2012

6AM  Feeling very overwhelmed and depressed, like something very heavy is sitting on me. Mother’s suggestion – just don’t feel it.  Ah, okay.  If only it were that easy.  I’m feeling like I did when I was still in shock and had no control over what my body was doing.  All I could do was go along for the ride.  This is so much like when I came back from Spain and no one knew the true extent (hell, they didn’t have a clue) of how I was feeling.  No way am I telling Bill.  I feel like I have to ‘put on my happy face’ around him.  It’s not that he wouldn’t be supportive, but I’m not sure he’d understand, not really.  No one can.  I feel all alone.

 

23 January 2012

I actually feel like I am not going to make it, like this is all too much, that the ‘injury’ my brain has suffered is just one thing too many in a life full of one thing after the other, that it truly won’t get better in time, that all the EMDR is doing is stirring up all the old crap and nothing good will ever come from that.

We didn’t even get to the EMDR today.  Suzie gave me the brain assessment test again.  Turns out I’m depressed and I have excessive anxiety and I’m a little something else, which I forget.  Probably has something to do with memory.  I even saved getting my Sprinkles cupcake until this morning when I was leaving La Jolla to go to therapy.  Of course, I couldn’t eat it when I got it because I had an empty stomach and a cupcake on an empty stomach isn’t such a good idea.  So I waited until I got home and ate lunch.  Then I finally ate it.  It didn’t taste so good to me.  Maybe I’ve reached my cupcake limit.

I can feel my heart beating ad I can tell my breathing is not right.  Also, I think Emily is pretty close to dying.  I held her when I got home.  She did purr for me but she won’t eat.  I told her it’s okay if she leaves.  I also asked God to let her go to sleep and not wake up.  It’s not that I want her to die, it’s just that I cannot take her to the vet and have her put to sleep.  I don’t think she would want that.  I just need for her not to wake up.  I can just add that to my PTSD list.  Her death, I mean.

 

24 January 2012

6:30AM  I can feel myself sinking further and further into the hole.  It’s just like when I was feeling that my brain wasn’t working properly and there was nothing I could do about it.  It’s a terrible feeling.

 

25 January 2012

I knew Emily would not be alive this morning.

 

27 January 2012

Still keep looking out the window to see Emily in her chair and when I slept until 7:30 this morning, I thought, gotta get up to feed Emily.  Can’t believe she’s really gone.

 

28 January 2012

It is so weird to NOT have to get up to feed Emily.  She is my first thought each morning.

Today is my 5th day of taking SAMe.  Do I feel better?  No idea.  It’s probably too soon to have kicked in, anyway.  It is sunny today, which does help, and it’s supposed to be 80 degrees.  That really helps.

 

So as you can see, I had a lot going on.  Dealing with my 20-year-old cat dying was just another added thing I clearly did not need.  And even though it has been a year now since she died, every time I come through my back gate, I turn to look at her chair, expecting, I guess, to see her waiting there.  I did bury her in my backyard, so I can ‘visit’ her whenever I feel like it.  It’s not the same as having her here.  Not even close.

Another strange thing is happening to me.  The other day I was talking with a friend I had not seen in something like 7 or 8 months and she was asking about the sentencing and all that had transpired since we last sat down and really talked.  I had trouble remembering the details, which, of course, at the time I thought I’d never forget.  I said to her that I hoped I had written about that experience.  Turns out I didn’t.  It is funny how our minds work, whether it is to protect us or to keep us safe in some way.  That’s why I think the retelling of what happened to me and how I felt at the time is so important.  What is also nice to know, is that I was able to completely heal from this.  I think I may have mentioned before that when I read or tell my story now, it seems like I am talking about someone else.  I feel a sense of sadness and empathy, but it doesn’t feel like it’s me.  I guess that’s good.  And my EMDR really worked the way it is meant to work.  (Thanks, Susie!)

IT SURE TOOK A LONG

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From my journal, 12 January 2012…

“It is official – I have moved (FINALLY) from shock to anger.  And boy and I angry!!!!!!!!! I am so mad that it took me so long to get to this stage; that it happened to me at all; that I have felt pretty much nothing for the last 15 weeks; that we live in a society that would allow and produce people like cockroach boy; that I have been stuck on so many levels for so long; that all I did yesterday was cry; that I was unable to cry for the last 15 weeks; that we may have to go to court and have an actual trial; that his attorney will try to make this my fault (HA); that it is her job to do that to me; that I haven’t been able to walk for 15 weeks; that I got fat (okay, just a little pudgy, but I FEEL fat) because I was unable to walk; that I had to join the gym in order to be able to get any exercise; that I have been in extreme pain for at lest the last 10 weeks, maybe longer; that I am not supposed to talk about my experience because anything I say can be used against ME in a court of law; that I did nothing to incur this attack; that most people have no clue what I’ve been going through and will continue to go through for at least a little while longer; that I no longer trust people in general; that I look upon every man and teenage boy as a potential attacker; that I have been unable to work; that I even consider breaking up with Bill because of the craziness I feel; that I cannot immediately jump into my new project because I might jeopardize my case; that I no longer feel safe in Coronado; that I want to leave where I have lived for the last (almost) 10 years; and there are probably 100s more things that I am mad about, but for now, this will have to suffice.”

I actually typed this rant at the time because, as mad as I was, I knew I could never write fast enough to keep up with my thoughts.  It is almost comical, now, the things that I thought at the time.  I really had no idea of how long it would actually take me to process, deal with and get through it all.  And the thing that brought me out of shock was talking with the D.A. assigned to the case.  It completely freaked me out when she told me that we would be going to court because she had to prove beyond a reasonable doubt that he was guilty, that she had to prove his intent was to rape me, that she had to prove this to 12 people on a jury.   Well, I simply lost it right then on the phone with her.  I was so upset. (On the one hand, I was happy that I was finally crying, but on the other, I was better able to understand just what I was dealing with.  And it sucked.)  I thought, what do you mean you have to prove he’s guilty?  I know he’s guilty, I was there, I’m the one he brutally attacked.  And you have to prove his intention was rape?  Well, what do you think it was?  To have a tea party?  He ripped my clothes off.  Where is the doubt in that action alone?  Believe me, I understand that criminals (I use this word purposely.) are innocent until proven guilty in this country; what I don’t understand is why the alleged perpetrator is given all the rights and the victim of the crime, in this case ME, is treated as though she is the criminal and has done something wrong.   Oh, it was very eye-opening and not in a good way.  Part of what took me so long to recover was the repeated trauma I suffered when dealing with the D.A.  I always felt victimized after speaking with or meeting with her in person.  Even though she said she was on my side, I certainly never felt that.  And the truth was, she was the attorney for the city or state or whomever, she was NOT my attorney.  I didn’t have an attorney, though she was always happy to point out to me that it was my right to hire my own attorney.  So, let me get this right: I was the victim of a violent, attempted rape and if I want to be protected I need to pay money for this privilege?  I’m the one who was harmed here, not cockroach boy.  And I am not automatically protected?  See what I mean?  This is but one small example of how it went for me.

Something to keep in mind, too, is up to this point, we still had not gone to court.  His attorney kept getting a continuance, ostensibly because she (or he, I was never clear on this) hadn’t had time to get his psych evaluation done.  Okay, I also get how overworked the public defenders are, but, really, it’s not like cockroach boy was busy.  As far as I was concerned, he was having a merry old time in jail.  Maybe jail isn’t fun, but he chose to go to jail by attacking me.  He was getting fed each day, he didn’t have to work, he had television and internet privileges. Does that sound like he was suffering in jail?  I don’t think so.  And even if he was, too flipping bad.  I’ll say it again;  HE CHOSE to go there.

I will get more into this in my next post.

14 NOVEMBER, 19 NOVEMBER 2011

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14 November

Therapy was tough today.  I almost cried.  The tears just wouldn’t come out.  It was when I was talking about Andy.  Also, Susie said she thinks my talking is my tears.  For now.  That’s probably why I am talking so much about the attack.  To everyone I see.

I think that when I was growing up, I never felt that I mattered, that I was not important.  I think I still feel that way a lot of the time.  I mean, and I know I’ve said this before at various other times in my life, I’m 51 years old and I have nothing to show for it  —  no husband, no kids, no house, no money.  Oh sure, I have a talent for making beautiful things, and a portfolio full of pictures of those beautiful things, but what does that really mean?  I think I’m trying to make myself feel relevant.  I know there are quite a lot of people who would miss me if I were gone, but what does it take for me to feel that I matter while I’m here?  I think writing my autobiography is a step in the right direction.  Also, writing about what I’m going through now.  I cannot be the only one who is experiencing it, though why no one else has come forward or no one I know has ever been attacked, I can’t figure out.  No one talks about it.  And I can’t seem to shut up.  And then there’s the annoying little voice that keeps saying, ‘Why do you think what you have to say is important?’ and ‘Why do you think anyone will even be interested or listen or care?’ and ‘Maybe I am the only one who this matters to.’  

And seriously, what’s the worst thing that can happen to me for writing it all down on my blog?  No one reads it?  I only help myself get through it?  Well, so what?  The whole point is to get me through it and if I happen to help someone else along the way, great.  If not, well, I will have still helped me.  It’s not like anyone is really reading my blog these days anyway.  I do need to figure out a way to increase my readership AND have people leave comments.  I want, no, I NEED to know that I’m not just wasting my time.  (Note- The blog I am referring to here is http://www.alittleofthisthatandtheother.blogspot.com and even before the attack I was having a bit of trouble posting on a regular basis.  After, I tried to go on as if nothing had happened, occasionally making a veiled reference to something, but never coming totally clean.  After I launched this site, I foolishly thought I could do posts on both.  That has not happened.)

19 November 2011

Slowly, but ever so slowly, I am realizing I have a very deep sense that I simply do not matter.  I, of course, l know this is ridiculous, and yet, the feeling is still there.  This was pointed out to me last Monday in therapy.  When I was talking about how mean my brothers were and how I got no relief from Mother until I took the drastic measure of running away from home, Susie asked me if I felt that I didn’t matter?  I said, yes, and I’ve thought about it a lot this past week.  I’m not sure why I feel this way.  Oh, I can understand why I would have felt it before, but not after Hoffman and all the subsequent work I’ve done to deal with my past.  Apparently, though, it is still there.  Rats!

The Hoffman gathering today was pretty powerful for me.  The topic was Gratitude.  My first thought was, ‘of course I am grateful for everything.’  And then I thought more about that and realized it was the perfect topic for me because, although I am definitely grateful for a lot of things, I am not nearly in the frame of mind I was pre-attack.  I can’t even thank God for my island anymore.  That has got to shift for me.  I am working on it, but maybe I really do need to ‘fake it ’til I feel it again.’  Kind of like the releasing resentment prayer that Mike sent me.  I’ve been doing it and I’m pretty sure I’ve done it for more than 14 consecutive days and I’ve yet to feel any less mad or resentful towards cockroach boy.   Still, I’ll keep doing it.  It certainly cannot hurt anything and may be helping me in ways I am not even aware of.  (Another note – the releasing resentment prayer I mentioned here is an amalgamation from the Big Book of Alcoholics Anonymous and says the following: “God, please help me show ____ the same tolerance, compassion and patience that I would cheerfully grant a sick friend.  This is a sick person God.  Save me from being angry and resentful.  Thy will be done.  I ask for everything that I want for myself to be given to him.  I ask for his health, his prosperity and his happiness.”   Say it for 14 consecutive days and see if it doesn’t help you release your resentment.  Remember that this is for your peace of mind and serenity, not his.)

SO LONG 2012 AND WELCOME 2013

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DSCN1255

 

We were on our way home from  Los Angeles on Christmas Day and stopped off in San Clemente to watch the sunset.  It was spectacular!

In the weeks since my last post, things have been pretty hectic.  I am STILL dealing with my back and though it is soooo much better, it is not all the way better and working is quite challenging at times.  The pain can be so intense that all I can really do is retreat to my bed, take lots of ibuprofen and lie on the heating pad.  I was doing my best to get several jobs finished before the holidays and between that and my back, I simply had no time to post here.  That will all change after the first of the year.  I promise!

2012 was an incredible year of healing for me, and I did a lot of ‘planting’ of new ideas and dreams.  2013 will be a year of those ideas and dreams blooming!  And I am so excited about that.  There is still so much more to tell about my journey through my sexual assault and, in time, the other parts of my life, mostly the past, that contributed to all I went through in my EMDR experience and healing from the attack.  It is fascinating and you won’t be disappointed.

HAPPY NEW YEAR TO EVERYONE!  And like we always said in school, See You Next Year!

12 NOVEMBER 2011

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I realize that some of these journal entries are kind of hard to read, and, unfortunately, they get worse before, finally, getting better.  The good news is they were written a year ago and I am MUCH better.  I’ve been through 14 months of EMDR and dealt with all those really negative thoughts and beliefs.  A large part of WHY I am sharing all of this is to let you know that healing IS possible and even the darkest days will eventually become light-filled again.

 

12 November 2011

“Woke up at 4a, got up to go to the bathroom and it was just beginning to sprinkle.  It rained steadily, and sometimes heavily, for the last 4 hours.  That’s good as we always need rain. Sure wish Bill was here (instead of Hawaii) so we could lazily wile away the morning cuddled in bed.  Alas, he’s not here and I would love to accomplish something today.  Perhaps a movie this morning?  Not exactly an accomplishment and certainly won’t do anything to further my work.  I guess I am listening to my brain/body, though.  At least that’s what I am telling myself.  I so want to finish the bumper and crib skirt and move on to my next waiting job.  I only make it harder on myself my NOT working.  Like I told Bill last night, I know I am capable of working even when I am clinically depressed because I did it before and I’m not even depressed now.  I do understand there is more going on right now in my head and I truly cannot control how I am feeling.  Even with the best of intentions, I can’t seem to overcome what’s happening and that is the most frustrating of all.

9:20a  Feeling really weird, like I could walk off into the ‘sunset,’ never to be seen again.  When I feel like this, should I stay at home where I think I am safe or should I try to get myself out of this feeling by leaving the house and going to a very public place like Fashion Valley and the movie theatre?  It’s so weird and for no reason the bad feelings crash over me like waves on a stormy beach.  Wave after wave of really shitty feelings.  No one can possibly understand unless they’ve been through it.  I think that’s the hardest and worst part, feeling like I am alone in this.  I’m thinking I should get out, that staying here will only intensify the negative feelings.  I think I’ll go see a comedy because anything else will most likely have a detrimental effect on me.  Sure don’t need that.

11:13p  It is getting harder and harder to go to sleep for me. I keep seeing things I don’t want to see when I shut my eyes.  I usually can override those images with the ho’oponopono releasing technique, but it doesn’t always work lately.  I’m getting afraid to go to sleep, afraid of the dreams I may have.  And what’s with dreaming about Andy* so much?  It’s too bad I can’t work instead of sleeping.  That would be ideal.  Perhaps one of these days I’ll start doing that, substituting sleep with work.  My clients sure would appreciate it.

Talking to Bill on the phone, especially when he’s out-of-town, is just not as satisfying as talking to him in person.  I think some of the closeness I feel when we are together gets lost in translation, over the wires, if you will.  3 more days until he comes home.  Can’t wait and I hope he doesn’t have any more trips planned that don’t include me.”

 

*A note — Andy was my youngest brother.  He died suddenly, and very unexpectedly, on 14 June 2011.  And at this point I had yet to really grieve for him.  Not sure if I really have even now.

10 NOVEMBER 2011

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From my journal…

“I feel like I am a ticking time-bomb and I am not sure when I’ll explode.  Mostly, I feel okay, and, at times, I can even ‘forget’ about what’s really going on.  What makes this so hard is not knowing when things will happen.  I put this quote on my Facebook this morning:

“There is sacredness in tears.  They are not the mark of weakness, but of power.  They speak more eloquently than ten thousands tongues.  They are messengers of overwhelming grief and unspeakable love.”  ~Washington Irving

If this is true, that tears are not a sign of weakness, but one of power, then I must be the weakest person on the planet.  I certainly do not feel like I have any power at all.  I have understood for a long time that I have no control over anything but my reaction to things.  In this case, I can’t even control my reaction because my brain chemistry is all messed up.  I feel more out of control than ever.  And I look fine to the outside world.  When I look in the mirror I still don’t see the real me.  I’m not sure where she is.  Perhaps locked away until it is safe to reemerge?

Kim recommended I watch some YouTube videos about sexual assault in the military.  The one thing I took away from “Angie’s Story’ was her saying that PTSD does NOT go away on its own, that without help, you will always suffer.  Also, that it took a year (oh, crap) for her symptoms to fully manifest.  So then I think, okay, fine, I’ll just go about my life until that happens, except that isn’t how it’s working.  It’s like I am half in, half out. I can’t move forward, I can’t pretend or will myself past this, so I sit, stuck in the now.  The fact that I get out of bed every day is quite an accomplishment because all I really want to do is stay there.  Right now, the symptoms I do have are manifesting themselves as depression, though I am not depressed.  Going on an anti-depressant doesn’t seem the way to go because it will be masking the very feelings I need to feel in order to move through the trauma.  Talk about a catch-22.

And then I go back to the fact that I wasn’t actually raped, that, really, I wasn’t hurt very badly at all, that physically I’m healed, so why aren’t I healed emotionally and mentally?

I am so close to starting to write about this on my A Little of This That and the Other blog.  I feel like I am alone and I know that’s crazy.  I am feeling an overwhelming urge to talk and write about this on a much larger scale than I have already.  I think the biggest ‘issue’ I am having is reconciling what is going on with what I believe.  If I believe everything happens for a reason, that there are no mistakes, no accidents or no coincidences, then what happened, happened for a reason.  That I can accept.  And I’m pretty sure the reason is to move me to the next chapter in my life.  I get that, and can even be grateful.  What I am NOT getting  is why I cannot override the negative with the positive?  Why, even as I’m saying the words, the opposite feelings are what keep showing up?  Why I am unable to ‘will’ what it is I want?  Why, if our thoughts create our future, that what I think today, creates my tomorrow, what thoughts did I think to bring this violence into my life?  I KNOW I never thought these thoughts.  And, really, how much trauma can I possibly endure without checking out completely?  Yes, I am determined to stick around AND I can’t help but think I have already passed my breaking point, and so far, have been stronger than that very small part of me that doesn’t want to stay, that doesn’t want to be here.   When does it get better?  When does the pain stop?  All I can think right now is the pain is so unbearably acute  that I can’t feel it at all, that that’s the reason I’m not crying, the reason I can’t allow myself to feel anything.  For now, I guess that going through the motions is as much an accomplishment as anything.  I am doing the best I can and I feel like I’m not doing much of anything.  Round and round I go.

9:45a  What if I really don’t deserve to be happy?  What if only certain people are destined to have all they want and the vast majority are meant to lead lives of mediocrity? To be forever searching, but never finding?  To always be mostly unhappy?  This is a world that I do NOT want to live in and a reality that I cannot, no WILL NOT, accept.  With God, all things are possible.  It doesn’t say, with God, some things are possible or a few things or even most things.  It says ALL THINGS ARE POSSIBLE.  I have to believe this.  I cannot, and will not, let one incident in my entire life determine or dictate who I am and how I’ll live the rest of my life.  No way, not how.  And still, I wonder…

12 noon – Well, I did it.  I made it official.  I posted on my blog, came out to the world, so to speak.  I declared my intention to write, although I mentioned photography first, and then writing.  No matter, it’s out.”

 

It’s funny, in an interesting, ironic way, that I ‘came out’ about my desire and intention to write, but made no mention of the impetus behind it.  And going through my journal of that time last year is actually a lot more difficult that I thought it would be.  At the time, I both knew and didn’t have a clue as to what I was really going through.  I so wanted to be healed and finished with the entire process, never realizing that length of time it would ultimately take.  Looking back, I think I thought if I didn’t ‘hurry up and get better’ that that meant I was weak or that there was something far worse wrong with me than ‘just’ having been sexually assaulted.  Remember, this was only 5 weeks or so after the attack.  And one of the things that did come out in therapy was my tendency to be incredibly hard on myself.  I cut myself no slack.  I thought if I wasn’t perfect, no one would stick around.  It took me a while to, first of all, even understand it, and secondly, to start being more gentle and loving to myself.  Something far worse came out, as well, and that was the hatred (yes, a real hatred) of myself that I wasn’t even aware of.  I would have laughed if you had told me I actually hated myself.  Turns out, I did.  There are reasons why that manifested and I will get into them at a later date.  For now, suffice it to say that this made my healing from the attack that much more difficult.  In the end, though, I did what I had to and worked through it and was able to put that piece behind me.  I’m telling you that EMDR is the most amazing thing.  Without it, I certainly would not be where I am today.  That is also a subject for another day.

SLOWLY, BUT SLOWLY, BUT SURELY

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I thought I’d give a quick update on the state of my back. I am now going on my fifth day of being stuck in bed. The good news is I got up yesterday for the first time in 96 hours. My boyfriend brought me lunch and my favorite cupcake (salted caramel from Sprinkles) and then helped me out of bed. My back is still really sore, as much, I think, from lying on it as from the spasms. It does seem to be out of danger of spasming now, though I will be extra careful in moving for the foreseeable future. If I NEVER have this happen again, it will be too soon.

Back to yesterday’s adventure – Bill helped me to a sitting position at the edge of my bed. (And thank goodness my bed is higher than average and at the perfect height to get in and out of without having to lower myself down or raise myself up in any way). So I sat there for a few moments, trying to get my bearings and letting the dizziness pass. I finally stood and we made our way, slowly, to the bathroom. I was SO looking forward to using the toilet, as opposed to peeing in bed, which as I said before, is just so strange. After finishing, I (foolishly) thought I should do a lap around the house. Again, I (we) were moving extremely slowly. As we got back to the kitchen, I remembered that I had forgotten to brush my teeth, so headed back to the bathroom. You have got to understand that the lap might have been 25′ and from the where I was standing at the edge of the kitchen to the bathroom is, maybe 5′. I’m not talking any great distance. BUT having been prone for 4 days, it proved to be too much exercise at one time. I nearly passed out brushing my teeth and had to sit down on the toilet to finish. Of course, we still had to get me the seemingly insurmountable 30′ back into my bed. I was definitely light-headed and though not exactly seeing stars, I was in real danger of passing out. When I was again lying down, I couldn’t hear anything. It felt as if I was under water. I think I came as close to passing out as you can without actually passing out. It took several minutes for me to feel normal again. I definitely over did it. Bad Tamerie!

I did it, though! And before the night was over, I got up 3 more times. Once when Laura was here to bring me dinner, and twice all by myself. Those times, though, I went straight to the bathroom and straight back to bed. No extra laps for me until I am feeling a bit stronger.

And the best news is I slept through the night. I’ve been up once so far this morning and am thinking I’ll get up every hour or so, just to get used to it.

Last time I went through this, I discovered the Alexander Technique (www.alexandertechnique.com) and locally went to Eileen Troberman (www.alexandertechniquesandiego.com) for help and relief. I am thinking I may need to visit her again.

Thank you for all the emails and well wishes I have received. As my therapist said when I told her of my predicament, “I know you will overcome all of this!” And my response was, “This, although incredibly painful, is NOTHING compared to the last 13 months! And this will be better in the next few days.”
Okay, maybe it will take more than just a few days, but I can deal with that.

48 HOURS AND COUNTING

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A quick disclaimer–please excuse any typos or misspelled words in this post. I am doing this on my iPhone and flat on my back in bed. That being said, on with it…

Saturday morning, instead of our usual hour and a half yoga class (since my boyfriend was away at a weekend retreat with the organization he volunteers for, I thought I would walk in Coronado. And for this walk I wanted to do the route that was interrupted by cockroach boy on the 24th of September last year. I had not walked that way around the island since the attack, though I had revisited the scene of the crime almost 2 weeks before. I enlisted a good friend of mine and he was at my door at 6a. All went well. I had no physical symptoms come up. He asked, and I showed him, exactly where it had happened. No big deal, right? Anyway, we continued on and made our way back to the other side of the island. I went home, showered, ate and started working. Everything seemed perfectly fine. As I was sitting at my sewing machine, though, I felt a little twinge in my back and thought, ‘that’s odd.’ So I got up and went in the living room to lie on the floor to stretch it out. It felt okay, so I went back to the sewing machine. After a minute, I felt it again. This time, though, when I tried to stand up, I couldn’t. My chair is on wheels, so I rolled myself into my bedroom and used the frame of my bed and the window sill to push myself up to standing. I then laid on the bed and stretched my back some more, while I googled back spasms. Everything I read said ice it for 24-48 hours. Okay, I thought, and got up and went to get my lima beans (I HATE beans, so there’s no chance of accidentally eating them) and proceeded to ice my lower back for 20 minutes. I had draped my torso over the edge of the bed, with my legs bracing myself on the wall. When I tried to get up, I couldn’t. Basically I was stuck.

My phone was in the middle of the bed and as I attempted to reach for it, I realized if I stretched my arm out, I would be hitting the floor. I could just feel my back starting to seize. I thought, ‘oh crap, now what am I supposed to do’? I started pulling the bedspread towards me, little by little, until the phone was in my hand. I called Laura and she rushed over. (Thank God she was home and not in Palm Springs where she had planned to be.) She came in and somehow managed to pick me up and toss me on the bed. This was both a good thing (I was no longer stuck in a ridiculous position) and an excruciatingly painful thing, as that caused my back to go into complete spasms. I screamed, and kept screaming because, although I was now on the bed, I was in a weird half up and half down position. She had to flip me onto my back, all the while I am screaming in pain. The pain was no better once I was lying flat, but after a bit, it let up a little. At least I wasn’t screaming anymore. Her first thought was get me to the hospital. Obviously, that would mean calling the paramedics. I argued that there was nothing that they could do for me and it would cost me $1000, at the very least. Unfortunately, I have been through this before, though not in quite the same way, and I know I just have to wait it out.

The first time this happened to me was in about 1997 and I collapsed while working. My (then) husband eventually came down to my workroom and found me on the floor. He tried to get me up, but I passed out from the pain and back down to the floor I went.
He (we) decided to just let me lie there for a while and try again. After about an hour, he came back and by this time I had to pee. There was a (gross) toilet down there, but it made more sense to get me upstairs so I wasn’t stuck in the basement. We, of course, lived on the 3rd floor. Slowly, but very slowly, we made our way up to the apartment. He took me in the bathroom and lowered me to the toilet and left the room. When I finished, I tried to stand up, but passed out from the pain, and ended up on the floor. Again. (What’s really amazing is, given all the times I’ve passed out and hit my head, that I don’t have significant brain damage. And I’m sure there are those that would say I actually do!) So my husband comes and picks me up and walks me to the bedroom and tells me to stay there, that next time I need to go to the bathroom, he’ll help me down and back up off the toilet. I called my (physician) mother and asked what I should do. She informed me there was nothing to be done, that I would get better each day and in 3 days, I’d be fine. Dang, if that’s not exactly what happened.

The next, and last, time it happened was in July 2010. That time, though, my back threatened for 2 years. The day it went out I was in Point Loma for a Bar Method (a ballet-based exercise) class. It was definitely hurting during the class and afterwards, I was unable to bend over to tie my shoes. I had to sit in a chair and put my feet up in the air to tie them. I gingerly made my way down the steps to my car and got in. I could barely extend my leg and it hit me that this was a major problem as I have a stick-shift and a clutch. I had to move the seat all the way up to be able to work the pedals. How I made it home without crashing is still a mystery. When I did get here, luckily my next door neighbor was outside in the back when I pulled up and haphazardly parked. She helped me out of the car and walked me into my house and straight to my bed, where I spent 6 days.

On saturday, after I stopped screaming, I called my mother and she reiterated what I already knew and had told Laura: nothing to do but rest and wait it out.
Periodically, for the rest of Saturday, a spasm would hit me. I was glad the weather has been cool and all the windows are closed. My neighbors couldn’t hear my screams and thinking I was being murdered, call the police. With all the lying around I’ve been doing, I’ve had plenty of time to try and figure out why this happened and with no warning. My conclusion is this: As you can see from the previous paragraphs, I have definite issues with my back. I always wondered why the attack did not injure my back more. Oh sure, it hurt somewhat, but it was more my neck from the whiplash that gave me the most trouble. Now, I think I understand why my back went now, after I finally made it back to the scene of the crime and graduated from therapy, and not when the attack occurred. It was my body’s way of protecting me, for making it so I was physically able to go to therapy each week, and be able to work through all that had to be dealt with to heal from the attack. With it all behind me now and 5 days out of therapy, my back decided it was the perfect time to go out.

And go out it did. I’ve been in bed now since approximately 1:45p on Saturday (but who’s counting?) This time it is completely different from the other times. This time I literally cannot get up. At all. You might be wondering, how does one go to the bathroom if one cannot move? Laura did her best to cajole me out of bed Saturday night, but if you can’t move, you can’t move and no amount of telling me I HAVE to get up will make me get up. Ever resourceful, though, Laura went off to Rite Aid to see what was available for invalids such as me. She returned with ‘bladder control pads for women’ and ‘disposable bed pads’ meant for kids. Hey, at least there are options. For those of you who have never purposely peed in bed, (which I, of course, did as a kid, but that’s a whole other story) it’s a lot harder than you might think. First of all, I have to put this really long (practically goes from my belly button to the center of my back) and really thick (picture on old-fashion Kotex, doubled) pad over me and ya gotta hold it in place or you end up peeing on the pee pad, which is, fortunately, there just for that reason. The sensation, though, is strange: it is very warm and it feels like pee is going everywhere. And, believe it or not, it is really hard to pee lying down. Gravity is not working in my favor. For some reason, too, although I am drinking hardly any water (so I don’t have to pee) I am peeing all the time. You cannot believe how excited and happy I’ll be to be able to get out of bed and use the bathroom. It’s the small things in life that mean so much!

This seems to be the last part of my healing from the sexual assault. The EMDR cleared out all the crap I was still holding onto from my childhood and the other various traumas I’ve suffered in my lifetime, including this one. I successfully went back to the scene of the crime without any triggers being activated. I do tend to hold my stress in my lower back, and without question, the last 13+ months were extremely stressful for me. Now that stress is out, and as soon as I am able to move again, I’ll be completely shiny and new! Thinner, too, since I haven’t had much to eat and am still carrying the weight I gained after the attack. Yes, it is ALL working out perfectly and just as it is meant to.

I have no idea how long I’ll be stuck in bed. Luckily, I have my iPhone and iPad and books and magazines to occupy my time. Still, it is incredibly boring. Please say a prayer and send lots of healing energy my way.