Child Abuse, Emotions, Family, Fears, Inner Child, My story, PTSD, Relationships

Creating a Dialogue With Your Inner Young Child

Creating a Dialogue With Your Inner Young Child

From: Cathryn L. Taylor M.A. The Inner Child Workbook


1. What is her favorite food?

Fried chicken.  But only her grandmother’s chicken.

2. What is the activity she would most like to do?

Read.  She could read all day and all night.

3. Has she done this before? Is so , what happened? If not, ask why.

She reads all the time.  Her favorite book is still Green Eggs and Ham.  But now she can read it on her own.

4. Ask her to tell you about her fear of being blamed and criticized or of doing or saying something wrong.

She is always afraid of doing something wrong.  She’s terrified she’ll bring home a bad mark on a school paper even though she’s only in Kindergarten.  She’s terrified that she’ll be taken to the orphanage for real this time.  She’s afraid of messing up her dances.  She doesn’t want to disappoint Miss R.

5. Does she feel overly responsible? Why?

Always.  B was just born.  She’s supposed to take care of him when mom is drunk.

6. What does she need most from you?

She needs me to understand that she wasn’t a bad kid.  She was a good kid in a bad situation.


I’m exhausted now.  I’ll try to finish the remaining questions in the near future.




Child Abuse, Dreams

Horrible Dream

I had a horrible dream this morning.  I was dreaming that I had had a baby.  It was the most independent and easy going baby.  She basically came out of the womb self sufficient.  I was a horrible mother.  I neglected the baby.  I didn’t want anything to do with her.

Not too hard to see where this comes from.

Child Abuse, My story, PTSD

Pink Pajamas

I don’t know if I ever finished this.  As best as I can tell I was about 7.  For Christmas Eve I got a pair of footed pajamas.

I woke up in the middle of the night, freezing.  My dad was in there.  He had undressed me.  He was really aroused.  I think because that style of pajamas is for babies.  All of a sudden he had a baby to “play” with again.

I didn’t let him know I was awake.  I tried not to shiver too much.

Christmas morning, my mother comes in to wake me up and I was totally naked.  I don’t remember what she said to me but I remember the yelling.  I had no explanation for being out of my pajamas.  I learned long ago not to tell her.

Anxiety, Child Abuse, Emotions, My story, Positive things, PTSD, Therapy


2012 is a year for overcoming one phobia.  Dentists.  Nothing bad happened in the chair.  I think it stems from my father putting things in places they don’t belong on a child.

It’s taken me almost 20 years to do this.  I got nice drugs from Dr. P.  I was almost crying in his office yesterday.  Actually I was nearly in panic mode, but I tried my best to hide it.  No IVs for me just to get a dose of Valium.  He gave me Propropanolol.  It’s a BP med, but helps anxiety.

Most places open at 9.  I showed up at 9.  He didn’t open until 10.  At least the door was open.  I basically sat there crying silently for an hour.

But I made it through.  I’m having a dead tooth pulled next week and a temporary crown put on.  Then I’ll get a bridge for the four front teeth to get ride of the gaps.  I have the option of IV sedation, but given nurses’ success in inserting IVs lately, I think I’ll pass.  And he said if it was his wife, he would still recommend the local.  Good drugs Dr. P.  I’m going to need them.

I feel a huge sense of relief.  I’m still very anxious about going next week, but I think it’ll be easier to step in the door.  And I know it’s OK to cry.  Some doctors get all upset.  This guy (missed his name) just tried to talk me down from the ledge.

Part of it is feeling trapped.  Being in the chair is vulnerable.  You’re on your back, the table is over you.  Some guy has hands in your mouth.

But I did it.  And I have a feeling I’m going to need constant reminding of that.

Child Abuse, My story, PTSD, Suicide


I’ve been described as courageous.  Somehow I never associated that word with myself.  But, you know, maybe I am.  It takes a lot of guts to move to the other side of the globe where you don’t speak the language.

People have said it’s courage to live through what I’ve lived through.  No, I don’t think so.  That was pure survival.  I distinctly remember wanting to kill myself at 5.  That’s not courage, that’s just trying to stay alive in madness.  When asked about why I didn’t tell anyone, I didn’t know.  And I felt super guilty that I didn’t tell.  But I can see now it’s survival.  The abuse would have gotten worse and I can only imagine the punishment.

So now I have a life of my own.  My Christmas tree (small it may be) is up and so are the light.  I’m still in the tunnel, but closer to the other side.

Child Abuse, Positive things, Randomness

I Did It

Part of being an adult is doing things you don’t want to do.  I went to the bookstore though all I wanted to do was stay in bed.  I wrote more on my private blog though I wanted to shove those thoughts down deep inside.  Most of all, I did my cardio/abs video even though I REALLY didn’t want to.

And believe it or not, the English book store did not have a thesaurus.  What?  Well, not completely too.  There was a combo dictionary/thesaurus.  Not helpful.

I also got my hair cut.  For the first time, I was able to look at myself in the mirror.  And you know what?  It wasn’t the hideous thing I was expecting.  Just an ordinary person.  Those words, year after year.  They can skew your mind so much that you don’t know what to believe.  Now I know to believe what I see with my own two eyes, not what the tapes are telling me.

Child Abuse, Emotions

I Just Can’t

I want to write about the pink pajamas thing.  But I can’t.  I have no reason why this one particular thing upsets me so much when it was minimal compared to the usual.

I want to do my cardio program.  But I can’t.  I feel like my muscles are simply going to collapse after 5 minutes.

I want to go somewhere warm (not hot) and sunny.  But I can’t.  I’m here and I’m working and the weather changes are killing me.

What to do?  What to do?

Cats, Child Abuse, Dreams, Fibromyalgia, My story, Nightmares

Pink Pajamas

Woke up to my mother yelling “You little slut.  Why are you naked?  You’re going to get it tonight.”

Nice dream to wake up to after an early morning bout of insomnia.

Nearly 11 hours at work today.  I hope I can get out of bed in time to get to PT tomorrow.  I need to talk to Dr. K about something stronger for the pain, at least for the next couple days so I can get some decent rest.  I can’t get comfortable in my bed (and sharing a twin bed with two cats doesn’t make it any easier).

Child Abuse, Health, PTSD, Randomness, Stress

Pink Pajamas

Again, yes.  I’m finding it hard to wait for whatever my mind has in store for me to come.   I feel like, come brain, tell me.  Kick me some more while I’m down.  I haven’t felt this tired or in over my head since grad school when I did the bulk of my therapy.  I know there is something just below the surface.  I keep sketching the same thing over again.  I don’t care what it looks like, but it’s a picture of pink pajamas.  I can’t even put a head on it.  I don’t know when this happened so I don’t want to put on the hair.  Yes, it sounds crazy, but I am crazy.

Sorry for the sarcasm.  Another piece of fun news is I have (fairly large) lipoma on my right leg.  The fall in December probably triggered it.  My ortho happened to be looking at my legs and noticed it.  He ended up doing an ultrasound (20 bucks boys and girls, which is why I stay in Korea).  Essentially its an overgrowth of fatty tissue.  BUT (here’s the best part) being overweight has no bearing on the development of these.  Something else these doctors can’t blame on me being fat.  I can probably easily have it removed, but I think it’ll be considered cosmetic so not covered under insurance.  I’ll leave it alone unless it starts having babies.

Speaking of Dr. K, he wanted to do the injections in my hips.  I lied and said they didn’t hurt too bad.  Right now it’s hard enough lying on the PT table with the TENS cups on neck and shoulders and hips.  I just couldn’t deal with a man over me with my pants down, even a  little.

OK, I’m about falling asleep here, so we’ll call it a night.  PT and then the doctor with the evil sucking machine tomorrow.

Child Abuse, Fatigue, Fibromyalgia, Pain, PTSD, Rape


Sometimes I just get into a mood where I HAVE TO CLEAN OR THE WORLD WILL END.  Silly?  Yes.  Rational?  No.  Understandable? Probably.  I think it has a lot to do with still feeling dirty from being raped.  Being sexually abused and being raped are like two different things to me.  I don’t know how to explain it.

I know this OCD like cleaning thing is part of my PTSD.  It’s really hard on my body when I get into one of these moods.  I stripped and changed the linens on the bed.  Hung up a load of laundry.  Put another load in.  Swept up the big stuff.  Vacuumed the dust and little stuff.  Cleaned the litter box (note to self – need more litter).  Did the dishes.

I had almost no pain until I started this marathon.  Now my whole body aches and my specific trigger points are up to a five.  And I’m tired.  I feel like I ran 5 marathons.  Luckily I wrote my tests for next week this morning.  So it isn’t looming over my head.  What is looming over my head is the python course I was doing.  I did great on lessons 1 and 2.  Three just overwhelmed me.  I don’t know how much of it is the depression, the fibro fog or the meds (gabapentin makes me head do weird things).  I printed the lessons out because I feel like I can focus my attention better on paper than on a computer screen.  And then there’s the ever calling sirens of Twitter, Facebook and Wikipedia.

So my plan is to take a hot shower and focus on stretching those muscles that are bothering me.  I’m going to take my evening meds and let them work their magic.  If there’s something good on TV, I’ll watch it.  If not, I throw a few show into a playlist in VLC and watch that.