Depression, Emotions, Fears, Medication, Mental Health, My story, PTSD, Therapy

The Day After

So I saw Dr. D yesterday.  It was tough, complete with a panic attack.  She encouraged me to call Dr. W.  Since I seen her earlier this week, I didn’t think it was a good idea.  But Dr. D gently explained that Dr. W would be concerned that I let myself continue to suffer needlessly.  So I called.  I got a call back that evening, which surprised me because she’s on vacation.  She asked what was going on and I told her everything.  Well almost everything.  I didn’t tell her how long things have been going on.  She gave me hydroxyzine, which she has given me before.  Dr. W said she’s hesitant to prescribe a benzo at this point.  Not because she’s worried about addiction.  But rather given the amount of medication I’m on.  I understand her point of view, and I respect it.  What it says to me is that she’s being conservative, but is willing to go with something more powerful if I need it.

Dr. D wants me to come back on Monday.  I don’t really know how I feel about that.  I do have somethings I want to talk about related to the physical abuse.  But I’m not completely confident that I can get through it without losing myself in the flashback loop.  It makes me scared just thinking about it.  I’m going to copy/paste it in here so I can just read it if need be.

It was my grandfather. The summer after 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. It was so cold in there. He had the air conditioner on as cold as it would go. 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 baseball 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. The penetration was extremely painful. 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 go to the bathroom, but he told me not to move or say anything. I had to go so bad, I ended up wetting the bed. When he found out I had wet the bed, he beat me again. And then he was on top of me again. It must have gone on like that for hours. I remember watching it go from day to night.

I hurt right now just thinking about it.  I think I’m going to sign off, take some hydroxyzine, and eat.  Toast for breakfast and not eating anything else doesn’t cut it anymore.

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7 thoughts on “The Day After”

  1. If it is ok, only if you say it is ok I would love to reblog this. What you have shared I feel is monumental. You said the words. You told the story and the details of what that monster did to you as just a child. My heart feels broken for you. I want to take that pain away. I want to just reach into your mind and scoop that part out so none of you remember and make your body forget. These words, that you have said, no one says them. It may be hard to tell your therapist but you said them on paper, you wrote them and that is just….I am in awe of you, I really am. And I am so sorry he did that to you. I am sorry you were ever punished, cold, afraid, raped, in pain. I am so sorry he did it all.

  2. I would be honored if you would reblog it. I want to tackle this on Monday. Maybe. It’s another reason why having my arm over my head during radiation is so difficult.

  3. I am SO sorry you have to have your arm over your head! You must feel extremely exposed. Do you want to trouble shoot any ideas that could help make it less invasive? I hate the thought of you going though radiation and remembering trauma. If there is anything I can do or you want to talk about it you can message me anytime bethanykays@hotmail.com

  4. Reblogged this on NOT MY SECRET…overcoming the shame of sexual abuse and commented:
    There is a trigger warning on this reblog.
    I cannot imagine how painful it must have been to write these words for my friend KATM. She is a survivor or horrific and mean some of the most horrifying abuse I have read. But it must be read because in the truth of these experiences we can see…so much. Many people don’t want to hear these words. They are hard to read. But if she went through it, I can read it and give love and support. Those who live in denial want these words to be minimized. They cannot be. The monsters of the world need to be revealed for what they have done to the innocent. Justice needs to prevail in our world and we cannot see that if everyone chooses to look away.
    I pray for this woman, this soul, this precious person who went through hell and is brave enough to write about it and keep moving forward.

  5. Oh! Tackle this on monday…I thought you meant the blog post….ugh. Sorry. I misunderstood. I reblogged your post. It was a brave brave post. Again, I am so sorry for what you have been through.

  6. All I can say is I’m sorry and thank you for sharing your story. It’s a story of survival. And you have. You’re doing it.

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