Child Abuse, My story, PTSD

My grandfather

I’m finally coming back to the present… I typed this out somehow in Notepad. I don’t remember opening it up. I don’t even remember getting on the computer. I vaguely remember lying down on the futon (it’s sitting up like a couch right now) to watch ER. I don’t remember any of ER. It’s sort of amazing that I managed to get on the computer as it was turned off and I have to log into the domain to even get into Windows. And then I have to put in my password. I haven’t had a major dissociative episode like this in years. I have flashbacks, but I usually stay reasonably aware of my surroundings. Not this time. I have no idea what triggered it. Bleh… I hate this!

 

It was my grandfather. When I was in kindergarten, my parents made me stay there while they took my grandmother out of town. I don’t remember what I did that was so bad, but I got punished but good.
He took off all of my clothes and made me lie on the bed. He put my arms over my head with my hands together and told me to stay that way. If I moved or cried, he hit me with a leather belt. I don’t know how long I stayed in that position. I was so cold. It felt like it was forever.
I had almost fallen asleep when he came back into the room. I laid there while he felt my whole body, from top to bottom.
He was on the bed with me. Then he left and told me not to move or I’d get it with the belt again. I tried not to cry, but I did. As soon as he heard me, he came back and punished me for disturbing his football game. He told me that I better not move again. So I didn’t. I laid there and counted the cracks in the ceiling, over and over, and over again. But I couldn’t help but listen for him. I was terrified he would come into the room again.
After what seemed like forever, he came back into the room. And he got on the bed again. I was so afraid he’d get the belt out again.
He wasn’t touching me anymore. He was on top of me. I couldn’t move. I couldn’t breathe. He was so big and heavy. He was hurting me down there. I wanted to scream and yell, but I couldn’t. It hurt too bad.
All of a sudden, he jumped off of me and the bed. I put my arms down. He started to scream at me. He told me that he had said not to move. He told me I was an evil child filled with the devil. He was right. He got the belt again and told me to put my hands back up or he’d punish me again. I begged him not to, but that made him really angry. He took me by my shoulders and shook me. He kept yelling how little girls should obey their elders. He put my hands back over my head and made me stay like that. I laid on that bed for hours. It was so cold in that room.
I really had to potty, but he told me not to move or say anything. I had to potty so bad, I ended up wetting the bed. I was so ashamed of myself.

 

So when I actually publish this, I’m going to go work on another assignment from my therapist. Creating a safe place in my head that I can go to. Maybe I’ll see if I can find my pastels and use my *cough* art skills *cough* to sketch something out…

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2 thoughts on “My grandfather”

  1. I doodle to keep from cutting. When memories hit me as hard as this one seems to have hit you my first thought is always, eff up your arms, cut and keep cutting. The other day had it not been for ink and paper I’d have suffered some severe blows to progress. there is something to be said for doodling in place of cutting or other damaging behaviors. when I actually do cut I feel bad about it at first then rather resolved and dare I say comforted. It is only the forethought that brings guilt but I believe that in the long run it is better to doodle than to cut. Safe and effective coping skills verses dangerous and self destructive ones is always a good therapy goal.
    Lets see some artwork.
    Austin

  2. Abreactions, the reliving of these horrible past incidents are so painful, emotionally, physically, mentally and you come out so disheveled, and yet you did come out of it, and you have blogged it and maybe you will sketch it or the feelings associated with it. As Austin says above, the coping skills are always beneficial. Art is a recognized therapy tool shown to be very effective.

    Our best wishes to you

    keepers

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