Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
35.0k · Nov 2014
NitaAnn Nov 2014
During every stage of life
I am a failure
Stupid,stuttering child
Always messing up
Probably never going to succeed
Pointless to try anymore
Over life as it is
In a dark place
Never anybody's first choice
Totally incompetent
Exiting stage left
Nobody cares
Time to quit.
32.9k · Apr 2015
Gone too Soon
NitaAnn Apr 2015
I miss your smile
The  way you made me feel
You, the invincible brother
Me, your faithful sidekick

Why is a question I have asked
Over and over again
It has been 9 years
Without you

So much you have missed
I think about you daily
Wishing you were here

I want to hear your laugh
I want you to come ruffle my hair

You were taken too soon
It is not fair that I am here, alone

I miss you,  Jimmy!
Experiencing lots of losses in my life right now and coming up on the anniversary of my brother's ******. Miss you, Jimmy! <3
27.0k · Jun 2014
NitaAnn Jun 2014

I put myself out there


Can I go? Include me, please!


Hello, I am right here!

Not seen
Not wanted
Not loved

Giving up
Hurts to be left out
Tired of feeling defeated

18.6k · Sep 2013
Never Be Good Enough
NitaAnn Sep 2013
I will never be Good Enough

I'm not doing well, the past few weeks have been yet another dark period in my life. So much happening... most of which I can't bring myself to discuss even in an anonymous setting like this…it's not YOU… it’s me, and the fact that I can't seem to admit the nasty truths to myself. I'm falling apart, I know it. I feel myself slipping. I am aware of the panic building deep inside of me. I know what the trigger is, but I don’t know what to do about it. I don’t know how to “fix” it…and IT *****! Everything feels like it’s upside down, I cry one minute and I laugh the next. Sometimes it starts as a laugh and ends as a cry. And I wonder how much strength and will power I really possess, taking a moral inventory, trying to figure out who the hell I am.

It's just not a good time;
I suppose I should just leave it at that.
I have good ideas,
but not enough heart to stick it out.
Or maybe I’m just not good enough, period?
That's how I feel... not good enough...
not smart enough, or pretty enough,
or thin enough,or rich enough,
or successful enough,
I’m not good enough.
Not Good Enough.
I long to be good enough,
yet that dream has not been realized,
and I wonder if it ever will be.

Lately, I feel nothing...
except emptiness, and hollow...
I can't for the life of me figure out what's wrong.
How did I get this way?
What led to this?
What's wrong with me?
Why can't I make sense of it all.
I think I'm broken.
I feel a heaviness in my heart
something is trying to happen far away
within a part of me I don't remember how to find.
I feel lost
I'm just wandering around within my mind, waiting.
Wishing for someone to tell me what to do and how
but there’s no one to help me.
I cannot allow myself to trust, to lean on anyone.
Been there, done that,
it only ends in more pain, more shame and hurt.
I am on my own with this.
So I write about it,
because that's what I know how to do
and the writing pacifies me
and teases me out of my own thoughts.
I have so much hurt and anger
it’s bubbling to the surface.

Everything around me, and the very fact that I have to go on in the midst of it, whispers to me of my own failure and horribleness as a human being. I know all that I tell myself is not true, but this is not the kind of thing I can just tell myself to stop and be happy.

I see myself as a child. I see a little girl sitting in a dark corner, hugging her knees and trying to be as small and "out of the way" as possible. When she looks at me, her eyes are full of a terrible anger- rage, really and pain. She is scared. I have never seen myself so dark. But she is undeniably me, and she must have existed during that time of my life. I have ignored her, I choose to ignore her, because she did not fit the image I held for myself. She makes me think about everything that happened to me. So much anger, so much hurt. She was rejected, hated, abused; never good enough. She was insulted, ridiculed, hated, ignored, and abused. The pain from the aftermath is unspeakable. I try to list the things my father said to me- did to me- not to relive the memories but to acknowledge the suffering I never could when I was actually going through it. I try to describe the pain and it's so overwhelming that no words will come. I don't know what to say to her…this child of my past. I don't know how to help her exist, how to let myself be angry and hurt, how to bring to life all of the things that I've repressed. I want to express it all, but I don't know where to begin. And I look for something anything, a book, a person, a therapist; anything to show me the way. I suppose there is no way, no road map, nothing but fumbling in the dark, at least that’s been my experience. I try to ignore her, but every night when I close my eyes and I see her, but I cannot sit with her or tell her I am here for her. I am unable to tell her that her pain is real and that she has every right to be angry. I cannot help her or stop her anger or pain. I don’t know how. No one has ever shown me how. And she wants, needs, something, and I don't know what to do, or how to help her. I am so tired of walking this road alone.
I am tired of the pain and anger,
but they are mine- a part of me.

And I don’t know where to go from here.
Or if there is anywhere to go from here.

**I will never be good enough.
This is an expansion of a poem I wrote last month...nothing every changes even when it seems to get better for a bit...and then I blink and I am right back here fumbling in the dark and still not good enough for anything or anybody.
NitaAnn Aug 2013
Really? Well, don’t be, because it doesn’t help to be sorry. Sorry doesn’t change it. Sorry doesn’t make it go away. Sorry doesn’t “undo” what’s already been done. Sorry doesn’t erase my memory. Sorry doesn’t take away the searing pain in my chest. Sorry *****! I don't want your pity or to hear that no child should ever have to endure what I did. Because **** happens. It happened to me …it happens to millions of other kids. Shoulda…woulda…coulda…

You’re right – I do have so much going for me. I have an education, a career, financial security – the beautiful house w/the picket fence, the 2 kids and the dogs. And it’s all a huge sham! You can take the girl out of the trailer park, but you can’t take the trailer park out of the girl. And that’s what I’m to be commended for??? That doesn’t make me special. I should be commended because I have an education? Things could sure be a lot worse, huh? I could be a crack ***** living on the street with 10 kids in foster care, unable to afford therapy even if I wanted to go. I could be like “them”.

Wow! I’m so awesome. Yay for me! Kudos to the smart chick that spent years being molested by her father and ACTUALLY made something of her life. It’s a miracle!

It’s all such a sham – a dog and pony show. Smoke and Mirrors, my dear! Put on a stylish outfit, and  paste on a cheerful smile, and everyone thinks you have it all together….. No one would ever know different. You wouldn’t have known. If I’d have kept my big fat mouth shut!!!!! I should have known better….I should have sat down and weighed the risks, possible opportunities, the roadblocks the problems, and definitely a cost analysis of plan A – trying to work through the ******* of the past, B – continue to live in denial, C – **** myself. …. That’s what a smart business woman would have done. And after all, I’m super smart, huh? A real genius!
NitaAnn Aug 2013
I am a stranger to myself.
I do not know how to be gentle, compassionate, or loving, to any part of myself.

I have always been able to present myself well in most public situations,
be it work, school, parental obligations, parties.
I can be calm and level-headed.
I am able to problem solve in logical and intelligent ways.
I can be humorous and glamorous when need be.
But it seems as though that power and confidence,
that grace and strength, is only a mask.
I now have more days when that mask feels heavy.
And when I lack the strength to put it on, I have to hide myself.
And I’ve been hiding a lot lately.
I hid yesterday.
I am hiding today.

I hear the words of care that others speak,
but they don’t feel real to me.
Sometimes I can accept their words while knowing
that they do not realize that I am a disgusting person who deserves to be treated badly.
They see what I want them to see.
I watch them interact with the humorous Nita, the intelligent Nita,
and I watch it all from the outside.
I want so much more for myself.
Who is this Nita that is respected by so many?

I want to be loved and to feel love.
I want to be free from the father and the host body.
I desperately wish to be free from them, and not just in a surface way.
I want them out of me forever.
My soul cries out for kindness and gentleness
and yet when it is offered I cannot accept it.
I want to be respected and loved
and yet I do not know how to love or respect myself.

I know how to pretend.
I wrote the book on how to hide your feelings.
I know how to smile, I know how to laugh.
I know that I have been given gifts but I don’t know how to use them.
And the ones who were abused, *****, assaulted, degraded…
they are afraid to dream that there is more to life than this.
They cannot fathom that there exists a world
where they can be loved in a gentle way, touched in a way that does not hurt.
They stopped dreaming a long time ago.

I want to stop fighting so hard,
so much of the time...fighting myself, the therapist
the fighting stubborn one just comes out in full-force at any perceived threat
and I want her to stop fighting when there is no reason to fight.  
I want to learn to trust in myself and others.
I want the chaos and confusion inside my mind to clear
and I want some sense of cohesiveness and togetherness inside of me.  
I want to believe that there is more to life
than pretending behind an illusion of imaginary togetherness...
more than just feeling ashamed and degraded.  
I want to trust that I am allowed to heal.
I want to believe that I am worth the time and the effort it is taking,
and the pain I endure every day.
I want to believe that I am not what they said I am,
that real love actually exists,
and that I am worthy of receiving it.

And even as I write this, there is that voice inside speaking to me,
"But what if you're not worthy, Nita?  What if you are what they said?"
She is a big part of me~ she has a loud voice.  
And if I don't believe in myself...
how can I convince that part of me that I am good and I am worthy?
11.0k · Nov 2014
Liar Liar
NitaAnn Nov 2014
Liar Liar
Whispering lies
Lies my heart longs to believe
I want to trust you
Your lies are so convincing.

Liar Liar
I trusted you
Now my heart is broken
I thought you were the one.

Liar Liar
You can whisper your lies
I refuse to trust you
I know the truth
You don't really care.
10.6k · Oct 2014
NitaAnn Oct 2014
I am hurting
Deep in my soul


Make it stop!
How do I make it stop?


I am hurting
Deep in my soul!
9.2k · Aug 2014
NitaAnn Aug 2014
I have been doing a lot of work with my feelings lately.  I have avoided them for most of my life because, well the bad ones outweigh the good ones.  

The rest of them were f@#ked or beaten out of me.

I have always believed that my feelings only led to trouble and pain.  A simple feeling stated as a child sent me tumbling down a rabbit hole of horrific pain.  An innocent smile was interpreted to be nothing but filthy desire.  A frown was nothing but blatant rebellion that had to be dealt with.

My thinking is extremely black and white.  Good or bad.  Right or wrong.  But what I'm learning is that feelings don't fall easily into any of those categories.  The classifications that I have used to reason my life into some semblance of order do not work for feelings.

So walking in this grey area is very difficult for me.  I cannot make much sense of what I allow myself to feel and if I do, I get stuck.  The detachment I have felt to my memories is slowly being bridged by the missing feelings.  And that is terrifying.

I have always been able to share, matter of factly, the details I have chosen to disclose.  And I'm very afraid that those details were the easy ones; the ones I could disconnect from and push the feelings onto someone else.

Remember those rabbit holes?  When I find the feelings associated with that pain it's like falling down that hole bound, gagged, and blindfolded.  My logic was my only means of control and I've lost it amongst the feelings.  The only way to climb out of that hole?  

Literally feel my way out.
8.2k · May 2014
NitaAnn May 2014
8 years past
Still heart-broken
Love you!
Today marks the 8 yr anniversary of my older brother's ******...words cannot begin to express the pain and anguish I feel today and everyday by not having him at my side! I love you, Big Bro!
7.8k · Dec 2014
Fighting Demons
NitaAnn Dec 2014
Sitting here
All alone
Or at least I think I am alone
But really I am surrounded
Surrounded by the demons
Demons of memories old and new.

I am struggling
Struggling to hold them off
Holding my blade tightly
Occasionally swinging it wildly.

Please leave me alone
I cannot take anymore
The fight is leaving me fast.

Blood is running from
Not from them but from me
Wounds both old and new
Being torn open
The ground is red.

Things grow dim
Gonna just lie down
I give up
Let the darkness overtake me.
7.0k · Oct 2014
NitaAnn Oct 2014
I am struggling
Struggling to understand
Understand the whys of my life
Why I was sexually abused
For the first 10 years of my life.
Why I still struggle to have
Healthy, normal relationships.
Why I long for human touch
But still recoil when touched.
Why I cannot find peace.
Why physically my body is failing me.
Why, Why, Why??

Everyday is a struggle
Some days are worse than others
But it is always a **struggle.
I am tired of the struggling. I am tired of the continuous ups and downs, Where is the relief? Where is the end?
6.9k · May 2014
Cut Cut Cut
NitaAnn May 2014
So with these thoughts fueling my actions,
I make the conscious decision to punish my body.
I feel as though I deserve this treatment.
I cut to scar my body.
I cut to release emotions I had no valve for.
I have no words or outlet for them yet.
I cut to make myself feel better; to alleviate those feelings of hatred.
Cutting is such an enigma for me.
I do it as a punishment, for being weak and "allowing" myself to be abused...
But at the same time, the feeling I get from doing it is strength.
I look at the cuts and think, *"Wow. I was able to endure that. I am strong."
6.5k · Apr 2014
It is mine and mine alone
NitaAnn Apr 2014
It is mine and mine fight…talk…cry…scream…hate…hold...and hopefully someday face and accept. How could I have possibly believed that someone else could understand...

I feel like I am so many different people disconnected from each other wrapped tightly inside this lost little body with no escape.

                                              I am a mother
                                              I am a wife
                                              I am a friend
                                              I am a professional
                                              I am so much more…
I am an ****** survivor…she is the part that is wholly separate from the rest of ‘Nita’.

I have never faced her, accepted her or anything that happened to her, she was not me…now she has grown into this big all-consuming monster growing inside of me. And the bigger she gets, the louder she is, the faster I have tried to bury her and push her away. But she is now way too big and I am way too old to bury her anymore. And I have to figure out a way to be okay with her being a part of me.

Why do I continue to run and fight who I used to be and who I am? Why am I so scared and so ashamed? Why do I continue to live in doubt and hopelessness? Why can’t I trust anyone? Why can I not understand and accept her? If this is what I so desperately wish for, what I have worked so hard for the past 5 years, why can I not just DO it? Why? Why can’t I be okay with ALL of me?

I am rambling tonight because I do not feel well and I am afraid to keep all of this inside of my head for fear that tonight could end with the unaccepted being punished. And there is no ‘support system’ in place right now to help me with that. There is just ‘me’, logical adult Nita, trying desperately to remain in charge. I catch myself not breathing, and it feels like I have to talk myself through a few breaths before it becomes subconscious again. And yet even when I concentrate on my breathing, I cannot breathe deeply, I cannot let all the air out of my lungs. Why? Is that because I am afraid and untrusting that air will fill my lungs in the next breath? Not only can I not trust another human being, I cannot trust my own body to breathe?  

I am not crazy. I am not weak. I am alive and I am lucky. I am alive…so now what? Is this where I say, “Yes, I am an ****** survivor~ time to move on.” And then I walk away? I keep trying that. I am an ****** survivor. I am an ****** survivor. (I suppose that is a step forward, I still can’t say the words out loud, but I can write them now.)


But I need help with the second part. I mean, I have moved on, I am an adult, I am not helpless. I can function in society, and the majority of the people in my life probably think I am a product of a normal childhood. But it has affected so many parts of me, parts of me I am possibly not even aware of yet. That is the only way to explain the nightmares and the triggers and the strange reactions to what most people consider normal situations. I try to keep track of these moments, events, feelings, and I think I am doing better, right now…and yet I also feel like I am waiting for fate to stomp on me and squash me like an ant.  

I wish I could talk to people in my real life and trust that they won’t look at me in shame, embarrassment, or worse, pity…but I cannot. Nope – my past is mine…and I am left here alone now – to fight with it, talk to it, hate it, deal with it, cry with it – and maybe someday accept it.

And I will do it alone because it is my past…no one else’s.
How I could I have possibly thought that someone else could understand.
6.3k · Jul 2014
NitaAnn Jul 2014
I had to...
I have to do something.
The lonliness and stress were eating away at me
My hands and heart have been itching to be creative for a while now.
I have not been able to write for weeks.
My head is on over-drive.
I am so stressed/scared/nervous about the tomorrow.
What if it is worse than they thought?
What if something goes wrong?
6.1k · Sep 2014
NitaAnn Sep 2014
I am in battle
daily waging for possession
of my life
it is a losing battle
I am so tired of fighting
Demons constantly whispering
just enough to make me doubt
Where can I find strength to go on?
Should I even continue to fight?
Someone please help me
Demons 40 Nita 0
5.9k · Jun 2014
NitaAnn Jun 2014
She went to bed scared last night, instead of spending hours hiding, she went to bed scared last night. She surrounded herself with pillows and blankets but it did not help. She woke up from nightmares huddled in the very top corner of the bed, shaking and scared, hugging her knees tight to her chest. She remembers the nightmares but she will not talk about them. She is too scared so she will not talk now. Everything has been too scary, overwhelming and now she will not talk to anybody. She will not and she is not allowed. But she is too scared to sleep tonight. She will hide instead, alone, huddled in a blue blanket, shaking and scared.
5.6k · Jun 2014
NitaAnn Jun 2014

5.1k · Dec 2013
NitaAnn Dec 2013
Trust =  faith, belief, hope, conviction, confidence, expectation, reliance

The sordid talk of “trust”

A recent email communication has inspired me to research and clarify the word “TRUST”. What does trust mean to you? When you set your alarm at night, do you ‘trust’ that it will wake you up in the morning? What happens if one day, it doesn’t? Would you then ‘distrust’ your alarm clock? How many chances would the alarm clock have to fail you before you shopped for a new, more reliable one?

Do you ‘trust’ that someone received something you left for them, or do you follow up to ensure receipt?

The Doctor-Patient relationship is based on “TRUST”

I don't remember a time I 'trusted', truly trusted, anyone. That is until I began working with dear therapist. I was thinking about how it takes a lifetime to gain trust and only a moment to lose it....sadly.... And I was reviewing the times the word 'trust' has been written or spoken by DT in the past 5 years. I dare say he has written, or said, the "T" word more in the last five years than I've ever said in my entire life!

Examples: (as you can see, I'm all about the 'evidence' big grin)

DT said: it took you over a year to develop the  trust  to let me know some things directly from your words....
DT said: Give ME your hate - because I am not making the pain go away. I won't go anywhere if you do.
  Trust  me.
DT said: I ask that you try to
  trust  what I am saying here and continue to commit to this our work together.
DT said: I
  trust  in you and the strength of our working relationship.
DT said: you can
  trust  that I and others will be there to help and support.
DT said: You will continue to challenge my concern and trustworthiness because this is what you have needed to do to protect the fragile self that has over learned self-reliance.
DT said: I will not abandon you because you are only going to lean into
"trust  and need" to the extent that you are not collapsing.
DT said: You are slowly growing in your capacity to tolerate these feelings in the presence of another
  trusted  person - NOT AN EASY TASK!
DT said: I understand is a long process and
  trust  /fear/shame is involved.
DT said: Building
  trust  with others and within yourself takes a long time.....given your starting position.
DT said: I insist that we have the
  trust  and honesty about how you are doing and what you need.
DT said: There is so much learning, relearning,
  trusting,  questioning, testing that you are doing. I  trust  that you will give it your best and your best will be good enough
DT said: Rest your head and
  trust  that you are safe in your space right now., no one is going to hurt you and you are wrapped in your blue blanket with my faith enclosed.
DT said: I accept your anger at me for this (not that I like it…) and I
  trust  that we will continue to work through new challenges honestly.
DT said: As you learn to
  trust  and open up with the shame and fears and we keep you fully in your body during these times
DT said: Fundamental
  trust  in the therapy relationship can take years and you are getting there slowly and slowly is necessary…
DT said: make arrangements with 'best friend' or someone else you
  trust  to take your meds and give you only enough for 2 days at a time.
DT said: I
  trust  that you will bring your fears, needs and whatever else shows up.
DT said: you are in the middle of a giant, long term test of me and others on whom you might have some
DT said: If I gave that impression, then that was my own "stuff" getting in the way of  trusting  you in knowing what is best for you.
DT said: The nature of your
  trust,  distrust, anger, perceived loss of me is a major "therapeutic" aspect of your healing and our work together.
DT said: you can
  trust  that I and others will be there to help and support.

Wow! That's a WHOLE lotta "TRUST" to push and push and push....and then to shatter into a million pieces in only a moment....

Did DT teach me to "trust"? Yes, he did.

...but more importantly, he taught me that it isn't safe to trust anyone. Not even a therapist who extended a 'life-line' to you every single night for 2 years.

I "trust" that he isn't "here" tonight.

I trust that he discarded me and left me here alone to try to put back the shattered pieces of my myself!!!

Just as he trusts I will make the best decision for myself. (that sounds to me like he has thrown the proverbial 'trust' ball back into my court)

Dear Therapist, I see your "trust" and I raise you a "discarded, shattered, afraid, little girl"...who, after 5 years and thousands of dollars working with back to trusting no one. And more deeply wounded than ever. I trust that the knife in my back will hurt for years to come. And I trust that the bad taste in my mouth will remain after a few bottles of wine. new 'drinking' game...I will drink 1 glass of wine every time I hear, or read, the word 'trust'…I should be sufficiently drunk, or at least buzzed, the majority of the time!

** - no - one!
4.9k · Oct 2013
Psycho-Angry girl is out...
NitaAnn Oct 2013
******-Angry girl took over last night. She is explosive with rage and it is fierce and uncontrolled. She physically and verbally abuses the little girl inside of me, and although she is not a threat to anyone but us, she does like to verbally abuse Dear Therapist, via email. Sometimes a few months will go by without her taking over, sometimes only a few weeks, but she has been present since Monday, relentlessly torturing the rest of us. She wants to die. She cannot handle the pain, the past is overwhelming and she knows of no other way out. She strongly believes that Dear Therapist manipulated the 5 year old into trusting him, and then once he declared victory of getting the untrustable to trust, he decided he could just take off and not be there for her. And Angry Girl HATES Dear Therapist for that! Because after all these years of independence and never relying on anyone to help or “be there”, now the baby who cries for Dear Therapist’s help at night, drives us f#%king crazy!

Not only did ******-Angry girl cut me last night, she sent some emails to Dear Therapist. Emails that were discovered today when I checked my sent file. ******-Angry Girl wants to cut the whiny baby out of my body. She hates her. She wants Dear Therapist to go away. She hates him too.

Below is an excerpt from the emails sent to Dear Therapist. It’s ******-Angry Girl’s anger that scares me. She will **** me…it’s only a matter of time. She won’t stop until it happens. She has no will to live she wants only to escape the endless pain.

Angry ****** Girl: I am not fearful of death. ******* welcome it! Hope u enjoyed ur vacation! Thanks for caring and taking my "fear" seriously" (huge amounts of dripping poisonous sarcasm!) Ur so great and I'm so nothing! So I shouldn't be missed! and I guess ur "best" doesn't include calling me bk n 24 hrs- does it? For future reference, get a ******* back-up! There will be times when the "crazy" clients can't wait for a week to ******* deal w/a "non-existent" fear!!! **** u and ur ******* rose colored glasses! I'm not afraid of ******* dying! Dying will be a ******* relief!!! **** that man! **** that sorry man who calls himself Dad! He ******* Ruined all of it! ******* hate u! I ******* hate u and ur ******* "stay present"! U ******* stay present in my body every ******* nite! I ******* told u it was bad! But as usual, u blew me off "it’s only 3 emails" no big deal" **** u!!! It may not be a big deal to u, but it was a huge ******* deal to me!!! But **** it! Obviously that wasn't impt to u! Becuz I don't matter! Nothing here that can hurt me right now!?!?U go ahead and believe that - w/ur rose colored glasses on, dear therapist- becuz he will **** me. And when he does, don't ******* preach "theresz nothing that can hurt u right now, Nita" nothing. Ur so ******* wrong about that! In fact, I'm offended tht u even said it! How contradictory of u! "ur fear is real to u- I've nvr said it isn’t" Really? That's not what ur ******* saying now!? I hope when I'm dead u don't preach that **** to someone else. I hope if someone else comes to u and tells u he's going to **** her u ******* think about me and what happened to me- and ******* believe it! Becuz it IS real right the **** now!!!! It is ******* real!!! This could not have worked out better! ******* ***** is aware that u don't hear her now- so she won't tell anything! We are done- I can cut her out of her misery! Finally!!!

It will never stop. There is no way it will ever stop. I am discouraged and hurting. There is no escape. There are no answers. There is nothing but this endless pain. And he doesn’t care. I tried to tell him, but he doesn’t listen. It’s worse when he’s gone. And he can kiss my *** with his “Put it in a safe container” – HELLO!!!! There’s no way to contain it! It’s like trying to put pour rain back into a cloud! Why the hell can’t he see that? There’s no way to ‘check’ the pain at the door when I ******* leave his office! It’s ******* Hotel California! There is no escape! I cannot leave.
So tired of the fighting with the ******-Angry Girl...need to find a way to make her stop...put her to rest for good. I am battle-weary and so tired...I am waving the flag of surrender...
4.7k · Apr 2014
I am such a disappointment
NitaAnn Apr 2014
I can see it in the way you look at me
I tried to warn you
I am not what you think I am
I am a failure just waiting to happen
The only thing I am good at failure and disappointment
Sorry to those who saw more in me than what I actually am. I am a failure and a huge disappointment.
4.2k · Aug 2014
NitaAnn Aug 2014
I didn't have a lot of choices growing up.
Not unless you count the way I wanted him.  

Painful or excruciating.

I didn't have much power either.  
No amount of prayers, wishing, hoping, begging would change his mind.  

Not to say that I didn't try though.

I have a difficult time conveying just how strong my memories and flashbacks are.  I appear calm and collected to the passerby.  I have to.  But peer into my soul and you will see the claw marks of my pain. Scraping their way down into a collective pool of boundless grief and torment log jammed by the planks of fear and shame.

I long to turn myself inside out and bare my rotting scars.  To have someone besides myself witness what bubbles to the surface just long enough to be squelched again.  Power and a choice.  That is what I beg to find within those murky waters.

A choice to change.  
A choice to pull the planks and let the stagnant flow.

The power to persevere.  
The power to put them in their rightful place.  
4.2k · Nov 2014
NitaAnn Nov 2014
C                 T
  R                 E
     Y                A
        I                 R
          N               S

Tears are rolling, chest is heaving, nose is running
Cannot stop the tears from falling
So sad today, the reasons are numerous
Heart is broken
4.0k · Jun 2014
A Tough Month
NitaAnn Jun 2014
It has been a tough month.
With health issues, school difficulties
and do not even mention family problems...

So there has been some triggers
  and it is just been stressful.  
I have been pretty depressed
and feeling very vulnerable
and really wanting to cut.

I feel really like I have to act like everything is fine
and cannot talk about the things that are bothering me
with the people who I would really just like to talk about it with.

Which kind of leaves me feeling
hurt and resentful and
not wanting to trust.

I feel like asking for help is so difficult
and you can only do it so many times
and be rejected before you just take on this attitude of fine

I do not need your help anyway -
I do not actually need anyone's help
and I will manage perfectly fine on my own.

Except that is not how it works, you do not manage perfectly fine.
You try harder at not feeling feelings
being that feelings were something you worked so hard to feel!  
you start not talking about anything that even remotely bothers you,
you put a band-aid on everything you are struggling with
and act like things are OK
when in fact, on the inside,
you are screaming and wishing,
hoping that someone would hear you.

Enter more hurt and resentment
It is just really difficult

**I simply want to feel
3.9k · Sep 2014
Self Injury
NitaAnn Sep 2014
Is way of expressing the pain that
I seem not to be able to talk about.
It is how I cope with feeling numb.
It is how I cope when I have so many emotions
I can't even begin to name them.

I self injure to hide the pain I feel.
I self injure and nobody knows but me.
I am me I can not change that
Right now self injury is a coping skill.

I am trying to find new coping skills to learn how to deal with things.
I can sometimes make those other skills work for me,
but on a day like today it seems to be the one reliable thing
that I know will help me get through the rest of the day.
3.8k · May 2013
Self Injury
NitaAnn May 2013
Self Injury
Is way of expressing the pain
That I seem not to be able to talk about.
It is how I cope with feeling numb.
It is how I cope when I have so many emotions I can't even begin to name them.
I self injure to hide the pain I feel.
I self injure and nobody knows but me.
I am me
I can not change that and right now self injury is a coping skill.
On a day like today when the memories flood in
It seems to be the one reliable thing
That I know will help me get through the rest of the day.
Self Injury
3.6k · Jul 2014
NitaAnn Jul 2014
Today I feel defeated. I feel like a small fish in the big ocean. Everything I do fails and at the moment my head is going full speed with "pictures" from my past. I call them pictures because that is what it looks like in my head. Like a slideshow. I think these pictures are eating me alive. It feels like there's a hole where my heart is supposed to be.

When I close my eyes I see darkness. A dark room. In this room is a crib, and in that crib there I lay. The crib bars surround me. I am crying. I cry because I am hungry or because I'm wet or lonely or maybe because I want my mother. I cry for all of the millions of reasons that babies cry. Until my door opens and the sound of his boots walking closer and closer to my crib gives me something else to cry about.

When I was born darkness cast its shadows over me. The devil himself kissed me on the cheek. That devil was my father.

I do not know how old I was the night that my father left my room but I know I was younger then two. This is the first memory I have of my life. I also remember his smell and his hands and that when he left I felt broken, hurt,shattered, exposed and confused. I do not know what he did to me exactly. This I cannot see. Maybe I am not ready to see it. But I know this incident changed who I was supposed to become.

This makes me angry! That my father the one who was supposed to love and guide me through life is the one who could hurt me in this way. When I see other girls with their dads, girls who complain about how "daddy won't give me money" or "my dad is so annoying" It literally makes me sick to my stomach. They have no idea what they have. I grew up with a dad who had two faces. He was charming and handsome and loving and made me want to be his daughter. Then night came and he was evil. Thinking of nighttime daddy makes my skin crawl. He played his game well and everyone was fooled. I was just a tiny bug caught in his web of lies. Only now 40 years old can I start to realize that what he did was wrong and was not my fault.

How could he look at me a small child and see anything ******? Babies are warmness, smiles, laughs, and play. What kind of person would want to destroy that? I guess no one can ever answer these questions for me. I have to accept this. Anyways explanations will not solve or fix what has already been done. Nothing will. I am a victim of ******. THERE I SAID IT. Acknowledging it makes it real. But that does not heal me. I am a broken bird with tattered wings.

How do I fix my heart with these huge gaping holes in it? Do I pretend I am okay and patch them up with fake smiles and laughter? What if the patches fall off and I am left feeling defeated again? Do I spend thousands of dollars talking to therapists about all of my many problems hoping that 10 years later I will somehow be "normal" whatever that is? I will go with the first option for now. Pretending I'm fine and putting a smile on my face. If I smile I seem happy and then no one will know the pain inside me. Some know what happened but think I am "healed" so they do not ask questions and smiles do not lie right?

Sometimes I wish that someone would see past it and try to save me. Take me into their arms and let me cry and give me what I crave so much. Human contact. The right kind of contact that reassures and tells you your safe and loved. I feel alone and without purpose. What I know is today I feel defeated. Today I feel alone. Today I remember things that I did not remember yesterday. Today I have flashbacks where I feel like a little girl again. Where I feel like his hands are rolling over my body now. His eyes creeping up on me now. But it is not happening now. It is not real. This is what happens today. Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow will be better.

I am trying to heal. I am trying to move on. This is a slow moving hard process.
3.6k · Oct 2013
Unmet Needs
NitaAnn Oct 2013
"Nita, what do you*  NEED ?"
I HATE it when someone asks me that question!

"Nita, What do you need?"

NEED: “require”… “want”… “necessitate”

"What do you need right now. You don't have to do this in isolation."
"What do you need right now? I am not afraid of the little girl."
"What do you need right now? If you need something I am here to listen."
"If you don't think you are safe, then what do you need from me or others or yourself?"

Why does it matter what I "NEED"? Why do you ask me when you are not going to be able to grant that/those "NEED(S)"?

Is my Survivor Fairy Godmother asking you for a list of Nita's NEEDS so she can come wave her magic wand, sing, bippity, boppity, boo...and I'll become an unf@#ked kid?
Well, why didn't you say so!

Here's my list for the Godmother:
I NEED to be 'unf@#ked'. I NEED the voices in my head to stop. I NEEDED my evil father not to touch me. I NEED the flashbacks to stop. I NEED my body not to hurt. I NEED the fear to stop. I NEED for you to be here for me NOW like you WERE then. I NEEDED to be loved by my parents. I NEED someone to teach me what love really is. I NEED someone to show me that trust really does exist in this world. I NEED you to help me at night when I am suicidal and dissociative. I NEED you to be available after 10pm, when the hell started, you know, like you used to be...back when you actually cared about what I NEEDED. I NEED the little girl to stop whining and crying. I NEED to not have physical symptoms that relate to then. I NEED the nightmares to stop. I NEED the constant headaches to stop. I NEED my crohn’s to not be in a constant flare up. I NEED to stop having recurrent UTIs. I NEED the ****** Angry Girl to stop hurting me. I NEED to sleep. I NEED to want to live before I die.
I NEED you to hear me.

What? There is NO Survivor Fairy Godmother? NO magic wand?
I'm shocked! NOT!

I'm guessing that's why she never showed up then, either...I prefer to think that rather than her never answering my cries of: Please make him stop hurting me!

I NEED you to STOP asking me what I NEED  Since we both know that those NEEDS will NEVER be my reality, and that it is actually more painful to ask for what you NEED and not get that need met, then it is to keep your NEEDS to yourself. At least that's true for me.

So...unless you have a survivor registry where I can resister for the aforementioned NEEDS, or, perhaps a survivor merit system where I can earn credits to 'buy' the above NEEDS (I'm not afraid of hard work)...then STOP ASKING ME WHAT I NEED!

Because we both know it does not matter what I NEED!

Can't undo what's already been done. We both know that.

What Nita "NEEDS" right now is a bottle of ***** and some cranberry juice…THAT is a NEED I can meet right now!

Here's to: **UNMET NEEDS
3.6k · Sep 2014
NitaAnn Sep 2014
What I want is to be a little girl who is loved
          instead of abused
A little girl who laughs
          instead of cries in the dark because she is afraid
A little girl who knows she is a princess because her daddy is the King of Kings
          instead of the man who visits each night to ******
A little girl who lives with a family that is kind,
          and has dinners together and plays together

But that is just a dream, because that little girl is no where to be found...
          instead I am fighting moving forward in my healing because I just  
         want to go back and change all the ugly memories I have.
To make things right.

                                     **But I can't...and it hurts!!!!!!!
3.5k · Dec 2014
NitaAnn Dec 2014
i am confused
what is it
is what i am experiencing real
or am i believing lies
what if my perceptions are wrong
is there more to life than this

nobody else looks at things like i do
so am i wrong
do i have messed up wiring
who is right
what is truth

is this it

i am so confused
not sure what or whom to believe anymore
Everybody is always telling me that my thought processes are messed up, nobody seems to view things as I do...who is right? is it them? or is it me?
3.4k · Jun 2014
Shelter from the storm
NitaAnn Jun 2014
What do you need right now, Nita?*

Shelter from the storm...that’s what I would like right now, that’s what I need right now, dear therapist. Shelter from the storm.

I don’t doubt my determination to survive and yet here I am crying again. Crying and wishing for some GD shelter from the storm…the therapist does not question my commitment or desire to continue to work through this and someday come out on the other side. At least I don’t think he does.

I can’t find my safe place now…it was such a fragile structure to begin with, made of straw and easily blown away in a storm. But it did exist two years ago. It did. And for the first time in my life I felt understood, safe, ‘real’. My safe place was a place I could be angry and sad, and hopeless. A place I could ask for guidance in the midst of confusion; a place of encouragement and comfort. A place where I could find shelter from the storm.

But I can’t find it now! I feel like I am on the edge of tumbling into oblivion due to my own intransigence and inability to let the therapist back in.(or anybody) And I desperately need him tonight…shelter from the rain, stability in the wind, comfort in the thunder and lightning that is threatening me now.

And what is maddening to me is if the therapist walked up to me right now, with a stadium sized umbrella and said, “Nita, come in and I will give you shelter from the storm.” I still stand in the rain, wind and thunderstorm and decline his umbrella because of my fear he would just wrench it away before the storm was over.

So, here I sit, like a frightened child, on my own little island, surrounded by the storm, crying my eyes out over loss and betrayal…on an endless search for shelter from the storm.

Here I sit arguing with myself!

"Nita, you can't do it alone.  He wants to help you - take the **** umbrella!"  
"No!  I won't take it!  I don't need his **** umbrella!"  
"Fine! You stupid baby! Suffer by yourself then ~ stubborn little *****!"  
"I said take the umbrella!"

Messed up?  That does not even begin to cover it.
3.3k · Nov 2014
NitaAnn Nov 2014



So tired of being the odd man out, the freak, the *****-up, the loser, the last one picked. Why doesn't anybody see me as good or useful??
3.3k · Feb 2015
NitaAnn Feb 2015
I have been in a fog
It surrounds me
I cannot seem to get out
Every way I turn
Is a dead end, wrong turn
Full of lies and broken trust
Confusion as I think I see a way out
Only to be once again be disappointed.

I thought I heard you call my name
I turn this way and that way
Looking, trying to see through the darkness
I  hear you but its so faint
I don't know how to find you
I  don't know how to escape.

Something or someone brushes my arm
I jump back afraid
His laughter haunts me
Still taunting me to find an escape.

I am so tired of this aimless wandering
Please come find me
I am going to just stop here
Hurry Hurry
Please find me before he does
If he finds me first  
Punishment will be his sweet pleasure
Hurry Hurry
I am waiting
Scared and alone.

How will this night end
Will I be safe in your arms
Or tormented again in his?
3.3k · Aug 2014
NitaAnn Aug 2014
I am different.  I always have been.

A little girl is crying in the corner.  Her tears are on the inside.
Long, tired streaks down the ***** windows of her soul.
Her soul is old.
Her soul is different.

Shame.  Her t-shirt is never quite enough.
  It stretches over her knees just short to cover her shame.
  Exposed.  Her shame; it burns.
Her shame is different.  

Her hair.  Long and twisted; a curtain to hide the pain behind.
  His scent lingers as it curls her hair into knots of hate.
  Her hair; it would be beautiful.
Instead her hair is different.

A little girl.  She is still to let the corner hug her.
  A plaster embrace will have to do.
  A wall that hugs; it's not so bad.
  This corner is safe.
Her hug is different.

A grown up girl stands in another corner.
Afraid to touch the pain across the room.
  The tears are gone.  Clothes are hers.
  Her hair is the same.
  That different corner still remains.

Go to her.

Clean her up.

Dress her shame.

Give her human comfort.

Any other girl.  But this one is different.  

She is me.  And I am different.

Undeserving.  And indifferent.
3.2k · Nov 2014
NitaAnn Nov 2014
I am miserable
Both physically and emotionally
My head is pounding
My jaw aches from clinching it
My chest hurts from crying
Red eyes blotchy skin
I am a mess

Tired of playing games
Wondering if you care
Do you really love me
Your words say one thing
But your actions are the opposite

I cannot keep doing this
I refuse to play
I fold
I quit
I am done

I have played your games for too long
You can keep your "love"
I do not want it anymore
I am better than this
I am worth more

I am walking away
No looking back
Please just let me go
3.1k · Oct 2014
NitaAnn Oct 2014
I haven’t been sleeping well for over a week…Nightmares, tossing, turning – it comes in waves I can sleep for a few nights – then it starts again. The tossing and turning – I can’t lie on my side because my hips & chest hurt, so I try to lie on my back – but then I feel like something is crushing me and I can’t breathe…and I toss and turn back and forth – for hours.

Sometimes I cry and try to talk to myself, tell myself that it’s okay to cry, that it will pass, and I’ll be okay – I try to forget the pain in my hips and my chest- remind myself where I am, repeat my address...I’m a grown up now. This is my house, and I’m okay.

Sometimes I lie down in the guest room and open the window to feel the cool air on my body and listen to the sounds outside. Other times I lie on the floor in the bathroom, feel the cool tile on my face.

Sometimes I fall asleep but then I wake up, startled, from a dream…sometimes I can remember the dreams, sometimes not. But it’s been a really long week, and I’m really tired. I am sooooo tired. And nothing is working now. I’m so tired. And I can’t sleep.

And the lack of sleep exacerbates everything else. The anxiety, the anger, the panic and fear. And there’s no relief…no help. My problem, I get it – at night when everything happens it’s just me here – by myself. No one else. My problem. My issues…all mine – I own it. Me. No one else’s problem – why bother even talking anymore.

I don't even bother calling DT for help anymore - because really - it doesn't matter. It just "is" and nothing can be done about it. And maybe I'll get a "good" night soon - a night where I actually sleep...a night with no body memories or nightmares, no panic attacks or anxiety, no voices, no SI...and then maybe that will be enough to get through another few nights of hell. Maybe - Maybe not.

Just "riding the waves" as you say, DT - I won't call - I won't ask for an "extra" session or bother you on your weekend off. Because it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter anymore. I've ridden the waves for 40 years now! BY MYSELF! Has it gotten any less turbulent? Um, no - so again, I have to ask the question: Why ******* bother? I sure don't have an answer to that question, do you?

And I wish I had the courage to STOP all of it. But I don't today...and even if I had the courage - I don't have the energy.
2.9k · May 2013
The Affair
NitaAnn May 2013
For years now
I have had an affair
What's wrong with me...
Nobody cares.
It is a long story
I suppose
About the one habit
I believe I chose.
When things happen
In my miserable life,
I can not help but
Answer the call of my blade.
These scars on my body
No, they are not your fault.
It is all my doing,
It is all my fault.
Why can I not be normal?
I ask myself all the time.
Why can I not erase
This life of mine??
NitaAnn Nov 2013
You get what you get and you don’t throw a fit.

Like it or lump it.

The only constant is change.

Stop crying or I’ll give you something to cry about!

Life isn’t fair!

If life gives you lemons…make lemonade.

I feel trapped. Trapped in this life I don’t want to be in, trapped inside my head, inside this messed up, used up body. Trapped by the conflicting voices that argue and debate constantly…never a minute of peace and quiet! Trapped!!!

I continue to live inside this chaotic crazy world of confusion and I don’t know which way is up anymore. I cancel appointments, I lash out at DT, tell him he isn't helping me and I hate him. I dissociate, to **** the pain, I abuse the drugs that have been prescribed, SI to try to get the bad out of me, I don’t sleep, most weekends I don’t even have the energy to go out of the house…but none of it matters….because “it’s all part of the process”…perhaps DT could provide me with a bullet point of the ‘process’ so I can see where I am now, and how many more bullet points there are to go…so I’ll have all the evidence and be able to make an ‘informed’ decision of whether I have the stamina to do it. Isn’t that part of the ‘discovery’ process?

Nothing gets processed, it never gets better. I don’t think I even understand the concept anymore. I mean I’ve read so much about it…treatment approaches; behavioral, psychodynamic, cognitive, eclectic, holistic, existential, person focused, CBT, DBT, and more! I’ve researched and studied trauma symptoms and what to expect, how to handle them. I’ve read about the long-term effects of childhood abuse…the fear of abandonment, inability to trust or feel safe, inability to self-soothe or regulate emotions, depression, anxiety, eating disorders, self injury, suicide ideation, the tendency to ‘repeat the trauma’.… oh, I “understand” it well, from an educational perspective. I have good insight. I can explain it to someone else…but emotionally, and physically…personally, I don’t comprehend it, I can’t apply it to me. It’s all just words, I have no personal connection to them. Just like the terms: mom, dad, safety, trust, intimacy…all words in a dictionary. I understand them, I know the ‘meaning’ of the words but I have no real human connection to them, they have no personal meaning to me. Like reading a physics book…all words and terms and models and notions and things…I sit and observe externally, but none of it is part of my internal world.

That’s my problem right now…(well, one of) is no one listens! *NO ONE HEARS ME!!!
Everyone just shoves information at me – techniques, tools, lists, print outs, videos, cds, diary cards, words…and I see them, and hell, I’m pretty sure I could teach them all to anyone with an IQ over 50 – but how does it relate to me, to my life? The stupid exercises in DBT…”practice them” go to class, talk about them…
DBTC says, *“Don’t you feel better/happier/distracted/grounded/soothed now?”
And I just pause and take an internal inventory and say, “NO!” I don’t because it doesn’t do what it’s supposed to do.
“Oh, well, then you must be doing something WRONG. You are a failure – you aren’t trying hard enough.” Yes, it’s my entire fault. I will try harder. And I try harder, and it doesn’t work, and then I become more frustrated, like a 1 year old trying to fit a round toy into a square hole. It doesn’t fit! And I try it over and over and over, and it still doesn’t fit. And I become more and more frustrated and feel more and more worthless and stupid…and no one listens because it’s my fault. I’m not trying hard enough! I should be able to do this! I should be able to ‘soothe’ myself and ‘ground’ myself and ‘feel safe’ and make him go away when he comes to me at night, and be happy when I’m sad…and pretend, pretend, pretend, fake it. Shut up and behave yourself, young lady, so everyone can see how much better you're doing...another DBT success story!

Nothing is shifting and I’m still stuck. Read it, live it, apply it, love it! I read the material like it’s a prerequisite class in college. I study it, I learn it, I recite it, I ace the exam, I can tutor others on the material…but like finite math – I’ll never use it, I don’t apply it in my own life. I don’t incorporate it on a personal level – it’s just a class I have to pass to graduate.

Nothing is stable, nothing is safe, there’s nowhere to turn, no one to turn too. There’s no one here – no one listens – no one cares about what I say is working or isn’t working. The echoes of my screams just resonate through the cavernous canyon. I look around for the Verizon network and there’s nothing – no one. No one HEARS ME! DT used to hear me, but not anymore because now you don’t have time. “Sure I do,” says Dear Therapist, “I have a whole hour.” And you can call me until 10pm each and every night, if you need too, and if I’m available and not (enter: in session,  at the hospital working, running…or just plain not wanting to answer the phone) I will listen. In other words, if everything else falls through, then 'maybe'. Gee, I should jump on that.

Truly, I should take it, run with it, put it in the blender with some water, and make lemonade for EVERYONE!

Yes, my world today is so much different now than it was then. The only difference is the scenery.

Everything is still there: the fear, the lack of trust, the lack of safety, the ED, the SI, SIB, the pieces of me, the unfamiliar woman in the mirror looking back at me.

There's no where to run to… no where to hide....from myself. That's what it comes down to in the end, I can't hide from myself, and I can't seem to help myself either.
2.5k · May 2014
Finding Rest
NitaAnn May 2014
Rest can come in different forms and serve different purposes.

Physical rest is needed during times of illness and growth,
as well as daily in order to recharge your mind and body.

Emotional rest is needed for relief, processing and even safety.

Constantly being emotionally charged is not healthy,
just like constantly moving is eventually
going to end up in you being forced to stop.

So how do you find spiritual rest?
Have you ever thought that you need it?

Up until tonight, I never really thought about the fact
that there is a place of rest in the hands of God.

So many people struggle with waiting.
Waiting for God to lay at their feet their greatest desires.
Waiting for what you think you deserve.
Waiting for the life you think you should be leading.
Waiting for a sign that you are doing the right thing.
Be patient.
Wait and it will come.

Waiting for God to give you what you want the most...hardest.

Waiting to see if God's desires for you
are the same as what you have in mind...terrifying.

But what happens if you let that go?

Letting go gives you the rest you so desperately need
because when you let that go and give it to God,
it's no longer yours to wait for, to worry about.

Letting go gives you the rest that will strengthen your mind
and heart and let you grow closer to God.

Letting go will make it all the more meaningful and powerful
when you receive what God has in store for you.

Now if only letting go was easy.
2.5k · Sep 2013
My Greatest Fear
NitaAnn Sep 2013
I have fears – they are very real to me. But contrary to what the some may think, my greatest fears are not rejection and abandonment.

My greatest fear is that everyone will continue to turn their heads while victims are screaming.

My greatest fear is that survivors will express exactly how they feel, whether verbally, or acting out, and they will continue to be invalidated by being told they need medication and therapy in order to control their behavior, thereby reinforcing what they learned as children.

My greatest fear is that victims will continue to be silenced by therapy, or numbed from medication, and the clinicians, the researchers, will continue to ‘theorize’ and develop treatment that, in the long-run, is not helpful because they, themselves were NOT abused and have no idea what really should be done.

My greatest fear is that survivors will continue to be lab rats in the development of treatment that is not helpful, they will continue to drop out, time after time, and they will continue to self-harm, ‘repeat the trauma’, and possibly commit suicide because they believe no one cares.

My greatest fear is that the statistics will grow and no one will do anything about it because they do not know what to do. These are the facts:
             A report of child abuse is made every ten seconds
             More than five children die every day as a result of child abuse.
             Approximately 80% of children that die from abuse are under the age of 4.
             It is estimated that between 50-60% of child fatalities due to maltreatment are not recorded as
             such on death certificates.
             More than 90% of juvenile ****** abuse victims know their perpetrator in some way.
             Child abuse occurs at every socioeconomic level, across ethnic and cultural lines, within all
             religions and at all levels of education.
            About 30% of abused and neglected children will later abuse their own children, continuing
            the horrible cycle of abuse.
            About 80% of 21 year olds that were abused as children met criteria for at least one
            psychological disorder.

And this reflects only what is reported. Imagine what that percentage would be if all of the unreported cases were included.

And of the millions of children that survive the abuse, many grow up to be adults who are able to put it behind them, succeed and present themselves as an acceptable member of society, and many of them do not. But what are we DOING about it? When will people stop turning their heads? When will we finally stop, look and listen to these children being abused and to the adults who were abused as children?

When will we, society, decide that child abuse, and ****, and ****** assault are important, and affect millions of lives every year, and that it can be just as deadly as cancer. When will we finally stop whispering and turning our heads and actually face it and do something to stop it, and effectively treat those who ‘survived’?

I hope it happens in my lifetime, and I hope I can make a difference!
NitaAnn Jan 2014
I ponder that question during those long nights when my mind won’t rest and I am begging for someone to knock me out with an injection of some mind-numbing medication so it will just stop. It used to be that the overwhelming question of “WHY” would send me into fit of self-destructiveness and suicidal thoughts. Kind of a: I can’t change it…I can’t fix it…no one will listen to me…which would lead this overwhelming internal pain that I could not deal with and I would hurt myself (mostly cutting) in a last ditch effort to get it to just stop. I don’t want to die, I’ve never wanted to die – not really…I just want someone to help me figure out a way to deal with all the conflicting parts of me and my past – help me in a way that WORKS!

NITA, YOU NEED TO DEAL WITH YOUR FEELINGS BEFORE THEY DEAL WITH YOU….and deal with me, they have. Now what? Since my feelings began to manage me and I was no longer able to manage them…I was told to put them in the ‘time-out’ bucket. Label them – and throw them in the bucket. Well, let me just store them in the old cedar chest where they were covered with a quilt and preserved for 30 years before someone actually led me to believe that it was ‘okay’ to talk and I was not bad…and that I had a right to be heard and understood and ‘accepted’.
(To be fair, let me add the statement that my self-destructive behavior was excessive and troubling…and there were times when I could have died due to my ‘behavior’. And yes, I get that it’s okay to have feelings and emotions – however best not to always act on them.)  

But the problem is that there is so much much pain, that we can't do it alone.  We have stored it for so long because we were afraid and ashamed that to finally find someone we can trust and then to feel as though that trust was breached…it’s like validation that we never should have spoken in the first place. Somewhere in our maladaptive brains it only confirms that our abusers were right. We don’t matter. Everyone else is more important than we are. We are nothing. We have no rights and we will always be nothing.  However unintentional that perceived breach of trust was enough to send us right back there again. Even if it was a promise, or commitment, that was not sustainable - but was offered with only the best of intentions...even if your life 'changed' and you had over-extended yourself...that just validates that we are not important.  I realize that is not the way a 'normal' person, a person who actually received love and care that every child deserved, reacts.
But we never had that...our trust was broken time and time again.
Day over day,
week over week,
year over year.

Yes, it is a lot of shame to carry...too much. And the abuse from my childhood has ripped apart my insides to a depth I can barely see and feel.  There are parts of my being that were destroyed to the point that I know they can never be recovered.  Every night when I lay my head down I wish for even two hours of peaceful sleep....telling myself, "Sweet dreams, no nightmares."  Each evening when the darkness comes I hope like hell I can get through it without feeling him all over again, without hurting myself, without a pain so intense I cannot stay in this body anymore.  Each morning I wake up with no new injuries or long lasting residual after-affects from nightmares I am thankful for surviving another night.  But the shame, and the fear, and the pain...and the sadness of not having anyone to help guide me though it...all of that remains.  But I have put it back into the cedar chest and covered it with the quilt.  It is my childhood dowry...a dowry no one wants.  

And I remain silent.  
Because I am afraid now.
I am ashamed of my behavior.
  I am ashamed of my weakness and fear.
I am ashamed.
I am ashamed.

But I hope that someday I will not be ashamed.  
I hope that someday someone will listen to me, to 'us'.
What are we waiting for?  Won't anybody help us?  What are we waiting for?
We have stood up...we are trying to fight the enemy...won't anybody help us?
2.4k · Oct 2013
Understanding Me
NitaAnn Oct 2013
When I am told things like,
“The adult part of you needs to step it up and return …This has to happen NOW!
                                                                      - it feels like everything that’s going on inside of me…
                                                                                   the pain,
                                                                                        the nightmares,
                                                                                             the helplessness,
                                                                                                 the hopelessness,
                                                                                                      the anger,
                                                                                                            the sadness,
                                                                                                                  the fear…
                                                                                                                                    isn’t even real.
It makes me feel like I’m so inadequate and a failure and over-dramatic. It makes me feel like you think it’s all in my head and I have the power to just stop all of it and if I would just “step up” and use that power – I’d be HEALED! Yea Me! And I wonder why I don’t feel that way – why I still feel so much pain. Because of your invalidation I doubt my feelings, what happens to me, because I “choose” this because I want to feel this way. I must be a stubborn ridiculous drama because I can’t just “summon” the adult to take over when ****** chick’s in charge. "Just figure it out, Nita! You’re such a whiny baby…come on! Get over it! Deal with it…” That’s what it sounds like. AGAIN! I’ve told you that there are times when I CAN do it – but there are just as many times I can’t!

I am not asking you to ‘understand’ it – or say you ‘understand’ it – that’s not possible. But it isn’t that easy to just “summon the internal ‘rational’ Nita”– and it’s overwhelming and it feels like a boulder has fallen on top of me and there’s no strength to lift it off. And I don’t want to die – but I fear every night that the ****** angry Nita is going to **** me… that one night, she is going to be in charge, and the ‘tools’ I have presently are not going to work, nobody is going to be ‘available’ and it’s going to be the wrong night…and it’s going to be my last night. That’s real to me. Let me say this again. I DON’T WANT TO DIE! ME! I DON’T WANT TO DIE! But she does – because it doesn’t stop. And she can’t make it go away nor will she relinquish control. Not right now. Let me say this again, too: I do NOT expect you to understand how horrific it really is those nights.

                                           You couldn’t possibly because :
                                                         1. You aren’t ‘living/experiencing’ it.
                                                         2. If you did understand, you wouldn’t tell me to “step it up
                                                            and take charge” because you would understand that it isn’t
                                                            even possible to do that.

I know that you have tolerated my pain for a long, long, very long time. And I am immeasurably grateful. I do feel the love and acceptance in your compassion and hope and commitment to our friendship. However, at the same time I feel so disconnected from you and unsure how to respond to such feelings. I wish I knew why and how to fix that. And I know that all the ‘pain and fear’ is not going to let up any time soon and I am so exhausted I don’t know how much more I can survive, or if I even want to. It’s so depressing that some days I cannot even move and I want to die just to get some relief!

Tonight the pain in my head is excruciating – it travels down the back of my neck into my abdomen – and nothing touches it. I desperately want to hurt myself tonight. It will make it stop – at least temporarily. I bite the inside of my lip until blood flows – trying not to do further damage.
There are voices all talking at once now, and at this moment, I don’t know if I will be here tomorrow, or if I am what state of mind I will be in.

I am so lost right now. I have tried to believe that it won’t always be this way but I feel so depleted and hopeless. I cannot take care of myself right now. I want to be alone but when I’m alone, with no one to distract me, or talk to me, the piercing truth of my reality cuts into my heart and burns through my soul. I am so drained I cannot even think straight. My heart aches….this is the roughest patch I’ve hit and I can’t believe I’m still alive.

The pain I feel is unexplainable. I’m so tired and frustrated and I feel like it’s all just too complex to deal with. Too multifarious for me to understand…and the therapist would say, “It’s not, it’s so common and understandable, and you can do this…just keep on keeping on.” But he’s wrong. Clearly he doesn't understand…I can assure you…I am dying more every day.

Oh, wait, I’m a “survivor”, right? I forgot. I have tried to collaborate my shattered thinking to form some rational simplicity from my emotional intricacy. I’ve tried to understand. But my mouth forms words my brain is unable to process. What I do understand is that the human mind and body shields a child from the horrible truth so the child can survive. She can survive but not realize how she has been shaped, altered, wounded, until she grows up to become a woman and it gets so bad that she feels like she’s nothing, nobody, worthless. I understand that because I had no idea how much he really shaped who I am today. I feel nameless, fragmented, unlovable because I cannot love myself. He cut me into pieces…so many pieces I don’t know which pieces belong to “me” and which belong to “him”. I cannot sort through them.

See, now I am afraid that the only way I see this working for me is to shut down completely. I really do not know how else to do it, the “feelings” are just too big and overwhelming for me right now. I barely make it week to week, day to day, really. I do not have a good support system in place right now. So much is happening inside of me and I don’t want to rely others, I don’t want to “count on” others for support…

I’m struck by how little my life has become. I am afraid and I can’t even tell anyone. Afraid and overwhelmed by what goes on inside my head and my body. So big, so real, so much stronger than what is outside of me. So sharp…I feel it, cutting me, stabbing me, with its serrated razor-sharp pieces. It’s painful…
I DON'T WANT TO DIE! But she does. And I do not expect you to understand. I just want you to BE HERE for her!
2.4k · Aug 2013
Someday...I WILL Heal!
NitaAnn Aug 2013
I will heal...
I will hold my head high.
I will walk with confidence and grace
And spread my love and joy to all people, each person that I come in contact with.

I will heal…
I will give my opinion to others because my opinion is worthy of being given.

I will heal...
I will continue my journey because I can
And because I want too, not because anyone else wants it for me.
But because I am intelligent and wise and I am strong…
And I want to heal and feel whole.

I will heal…
I want to share my experiences and what I have learned with others,
Hoping it will give them a sense of hope.
I will heal…
I will walk this walk with confidence and grace and leave behind the shame and hate.
I will heal…
I will be beautiful on the outside and the inside.
I will let the beauty within me radiate around me and I will embrace that beauty.

I will heal…
I will accept my past, and all that has happened to me
And I will not be ashamed but instead realize that it has made me into the woman I am today.

I will heal…
I will take the circumstances that I have faced
And acknowledge them and learn from them,
But I will not let them control every decision I make
And limit what I do because they are just circumstances and not life deciding factors.

I will heal…
I will look into the mirror I will smile at who I am and who I've become.

I will heal…
I will run and play and I will become a positive role model for my children and others.

I will heal…
I will acknowledge the pain I feel inside,
And learn to cope without causing physical pain to myself.

I will heal…
I will accept that this is my life
And it's the only life I have so I will live it to the fullest and no one will stop me.

I will heal…
I will give to others all that I have to give
And I will smile as I do so because that is how I was created.

I will heal…
I will stand up for what I believe in
And fight for the beliefs I have.
I will not let someone else sway me from those beliefs.
And when need be, I will be firm, but loving,
And I will not back down from what I know is true.

I will heal…
I will share my story with others as I can
Because it is my strength and stronghold and the reason I am alive.

I will heal…
I will feel without judgment.
I will smile and I will laugh out loud and talk with excitement.
And I will cry and scream.
I will wrap myself tightly in my blue blanket and allow my tears to fall freely.

I will heal…
I will feel the embrace of those I love
and I will embrace others who need my love.

I will heal…
I will love me for who I am
I will embrace that which is me
And I will love life and seek to live it to the fullest.

I will heal…
I will make mistakes
And when I fall I will find a way back to my hands.

I will heal…
I will grieve my losses
And recognize that I was not ‘bad’
Because my father was not able to love me the way a child should be loved.

I will heal…
I will love with all I have in me.

I will heal...
I will give and give until I am tired and empty
Then I will be given too and refueled and I will go out and give again.

I will heal…
I will drive down the road with the windows down,
My hair blowing in the wind, singing “I WILL SURVIVE” at the top of my lungs.

I will heal…
I will live my life with purpose
And accept the life I have been given.

Someday, I will heal…
2.3k · Apr 2014
NitaAnn Apr 2014
The truth is that life isn’t fair– it isn’t, but “you do the best you can” – at least that’s what I’ve been told.

The truth is I don’t even know which one of ‘me’ is real and I’m scared of the many times I leave my body and can no longer communicate, it makes me feel unsafe and the truth is it happens every single night.

The truth is I’m scared all the time because at any minute I could change into someone else and bad things can happen.

The truth is every single night my body aches with sharp and persistent pain, and I cannot rest, or find comfort. And the truth is I prefer not to be present when the pain becomes unbearable.

The truth is I feel overwhelmed with the chaos inside my head and the pain in my body – and the truth is I know that no one will be there, so why would I even ‘write’ how it feels anymore?

The truth is DT has no idea what happens now because the truth I don’t think he really wants to know and he wants to believe that because I don’t ‘email’ him or leave him a ‘voicemail’ that I must be doing better. Good Job, Nita, you are doing such a great job navigating through the pain, in a much “healthier” way. But the truth is he doesn’t know anything about my “nightly navigation”.

The truth is no one wanted to know the TRUTH then, and no one wants to know it now. No one wants to see, or hear, about a man fu@#ing a kid. Because the TRUTH is that it’s disgusting and revolting, and horrifying…and the thought really turns the stomach of anyone who hears it. And the truth is, if it makes you feel that way to hear it, then imagine how disgusting it feels to be a kid who was fu@#ed.

The truth is I scared as hell that one day I will seriously hurt or **** myself. Because the truth is that we do tend to hurt and **** ourselves, and if ‘one’ of us does it – the rest of us are scared as hell that it will happen to another survivor!

The truththe truth is a journey into madness…and you can’t handle my ‘truth’. Because your truth and my truth are WAY to different…

The truth is I’m not that scarred when I’m covered up – and the truth is no one wants to see those scars because it’s uncomfortable and perhaps a reality check that the world really is fu@#ed up – and adults really do f@#k kids – and people like me really do hurt themselves and **** themselves.

The truth is everyone ignores what isn’t “spoken” and the truth is everyone is shocked as hell when the unspeakable happens.

The truth is “I” am not the one with the blinders on. And the truth is you don’t see me now because you don’t want to see me. Because you WANT to believe that I’m doing “better” as a result of your “boundaries” and “limits” (what a good doctor you are!- pure genius…she finally ‘accepts’ the limitations –and as a result huge sigh she’s doing so much better) – but the truth is you don’t know because you don’t ask, and you don’t ask because you don’t want to know- because it’s not pretty and it certainly isn’t something you see in a showroom window.

And the truth is you don’t know what my reality is because you don’t want to know, you don’t want to see. Because my reality is covered up with clothing, eyes that hide the truth, the ability to use humor to hide even the most painful feelings, and a bright smile.

And that’s okay – but really….your truth and my truth are as far apart as Earth and Venus.

Smile Pretty for the Camera, Nita ...that's "perfect."
2.3k · Jan 2014
Come and walk with me
NitaAnn Jan 2014
Come and walk with me!
I take your hand and allow you to push open the heavy, creaking door to my thoughts.
Together we pause at the vast emptiness before us, creaking dreams beneath our feet, memories and beliefs casting shadows on the vast walls.

We move cautiously inside the entrance, tread carefully on my forgotten memories and dreams, their hold on me lost through time.
Please ignore the twitching corpses and further explore darkened, hidden, cobwebbed corners.

Gliding through the room, I pull you down, ducking as another thought flies through the air hitting the opposite wall with a loud splat then landing in the pile of screaming thoughts below, where they stay, awaiting the inevitable time when they will either be dismissed or built upon.

Allow me to guide you through the room, dodging the memories best forgotten, notice the shame and fear apparent on my face as we view them together.

Take a moment to scan the dark room, breathe in the fresh hopes and dreams; their bright bodies hung carefully on the sun drenched walls, waiting for the eventual time when they will be realized or floored.

Their hopes shimmer in vivid brilliance to the limited few who are trusted enough to view them. Laugh as you catch glimpses of the insane images before you, cry at those of more morbid times. Feel yourself being dragged into the moment, your sleeve being tugged at by a crying child.
And in the blink of an eye that same child scrambles over to you.
Pull yourself back into the present, realizing the child before you is me.

Explore the room further, try to avoid the tear filled pool, where all tears are recorded and verified at being shed…wept through time.

Stop and hover at the shrine of the memories of my life.

Images and clips are projected throughout me and are now available for your viewing.
Notice how the salty pool of tears deepens while you witness me recounting the losses, the pain.

As we walk further into the room, journeying through time, moving closer and closer to the present…remember to observe the moments and memories of time, suspended in mid-air, burning in a golden light.

Now witness the smugness…the only part of my mind visible now, its golden beauty being cast throughout my body, washing me in an aura-like glow.

The warmth of the complacency keeps me sane, urging thoughts to be formed, its magnetism pulling words from the neglected pile and painting them into pictures, parading them in the room until they are given attention and brought to life.

As we move toward the door, look over your shoulder at what you have witnessed the room now a hub of excitement, never before viewed by anyone.

The air thick with scents of raw emotion, its nakedness daunting and yet liberating.
Its shadow and mediocre existence no longer locked away but instead camouflaged in an attitude and personality of an unexpected level.

Pursued by many, their relentless banging, wasted energy, their persistence jamming the door further, while the rusted lock twists tighter and tighter, until the eventual breaking of the lock, shattering all ties with the pursuer.

We step over the threshold, out of the house and into the sun.

I close the heavy doors to my thoughts, and replace the rusted lock on my soul.
I glance over at you and you catch my gaze.
You nod your head at me and reach out your hand.

I am unable to reach for you… I don't believe in myself, I don't love myself.

But I hope that eventually I will find peace from the inner turmoil that has me vice grip, tightening with each passing day.

I look at you with desperation in my eyes, longing to believe the wisdom you speak is "truth".
Walk with me...see my shame and sadness, witness my hopes and dreams
2.2k · Dec 2013
My Heart Bleeds
NitaAnn Dec 2013
My heart is in utter confusion
My heart bleeds
Tiny razors ***** and torment and cut me and my heart bleeds
No one understands the extent of the damage caused by such a deep betrayal of trust
No one understands the feelings of shame and blame
No one understands the pain of the memories
No one understands reliving the past in the present
Except those who have been through this hell
Broken trust is like a crystal goblet shattered by a screeching high pitched discord
It can never be fixed
My heart bleeds again
And just when I thought I'd bleed out & my soul would die
Fate opted to show me another side
Dared me to learn to trust
Tempted me with small glimmers of hope
And, again, my heart bleeds
But not in pain or disappointments
Not in self-hatred and hopelessness
This time my heart bleeds with hope.
My heart is in utter confusion.
It bleeds.
Tiny razors ***** and torment and cut me and my heart bleeds.
No one really understands the extent of the damage caused by such a deep betrayal of trust.
No one really gets why you turn into an emotional gibbering mess trying to hold your sanity together with duct tape and super glue.
No one with the exception of those who have been through it themselves.
Trust broken is like a crystal glass shattered by a screeching high pitched discord.
It can never be fixed - best to just throw it away.
My heart bleeds again.
Just as I thought I'd bleed out, my soul would die, and I would become this empty shell of functioning learned reactions with no thought or feeling, something happened.
Fate opted to show me another side.
Dared me to learn to trust, teased me with small glimmers of hope.
So my heart bleeds for what I hope is the final time.
Not in pain or disappointments, or even self-loathing and rejection of the hearts purest feelings.
No, this time my heart bleeds with longing.
This may be my saving grace.
And yet I am scared to death that this may destroy me yet.
2.2k · Aug 2014
NitaAnn Aug 2014
I deal with fear nearly every single moment that I'm awake.
My past has left me a very fearful present.

I am also afraid and that feels very different.
  To me, being afraid is the current not directly tied to my past.  

Just a side effect.

Afraid of being fragile.
  Afraid of being pitied.
  Afraid of being angry.
  Afraid of being mean.
  Afraid of failing in school.
  Afraid of being abandoned.
Afraid of my husband leaving.
  Afraid of losing everything because I can never grip it tight enough.

I try to wrap my arms around Afraid
because I cannot hold it all in my hands.
  But then a tremor wiggles through my hand.
  And then it works its way up my arm.
  My shoulder shudders.
  My head twitches.
  The other shoulders rolls as my other hand is paralyzed.
  I am limp and worthless to contain Afraid.

Afraid tells me that I'm doing this all wrong.
  That I'm not healing right.
  Good enough.
  Fast enough.  

I am afraid of Afraid.
2.1k · Jul 2013
NitaAnn Jul 2013
There are words that we say or hear in life; and once we say them, everything changes.
“I’m pregnant.”
“Will you marry me?”
“You got the job!”
“He didn’t make it…”
“I don’t love you.”
If we’re lucky, we only hear the good ones.
The ones that change our lives for the better.
But for most of us, it’s the tragic phrases that stay with us forever.
I’ve heard my fair share.
“I wish you had never been born.”
“We’re getting divorced.”
“We’re moving to Ohio.”
But it’s the words that I have had to say that have been the hardest.
These words are ones that I still trip over when I say them now, almost 30 years later. They’re words that make society as a whole take a step back and cringe.
They’re the words you never think you’ll say.
“I was sexually molested by my father.”
Even typing it feels wrong.
It still feels messy and forced.
I remember the first time I said it.
I did not want to say it.
When I said these words, I was dead inside.
Rotted from the inside out, like a tree that finally gives out after years of being gnawed on by bugs.
I also knew, however, that the second I said these words my entire life would change – even though I never could have prepared myself for the changes that would follow that day.
I remember being numb.
I think a part of me thought that because I said it, it was over.
I don’t know exactly what I was thinking in those moments.
But, those words made their way up my chest, into my throat, and finally out of my mouth.
And that meant that everything was different.
I remember explaining to the female police officer what my father had been doing to me.
I was angry that my mother had betrayed me by calling the police.
I knew that my life was over. I was exploding on the inside.
But I was also dead. On the inside, and seemingly on the outside.
I told her what had happened. Mostly because I wanted her to leave.
She nodded and took notes while I said those words that I never wanted to say.
And then she told me that I had to go to the hospital.
More words I could not understand.
I was not sure why – it had been happening for years. I tried to protest, but she insisted.
My words didn’t matter.
She asked me to get dressed, and said that she’d wait downstairs.
I don’t remember getting dressed.
The next thing I remember was walking downstairs and seeing my grandfather there.
He stood in the doorway, and I froze when I saw him.
I could see a police car in the driveway.
“Nita Girl, your father has been touching you?”
More words that I could not comprehend.
I could not believe that these words were coming out of his mouth.
I just nodded.
My mother drove me to the hospital. I don’t remember the words we said in the car. I can’t imagine what words we would have had to say to each other in those moments.
They put me in a triage room with just a curtain, in the middle of the E.R.
I remember thinking to myself that people were probably wondering why I was there, with two police officers.
And I didn’t even look sick.
They left us in that room for a long time.
Forever. Just my mom and I.
Finally, after what seemed like hours, a nurse came in. I don’t remember much, except being handed a cup and ushered into the bathroom to give a ***** sample.
They were going to check my ***** for STDs.
I was only 10.
I had never even thought of STDs.
Words like “***”
What the hell were these words? How could they ever apply to me?
Then they took vials of blood. I remember watching when they stuck the needle inside my arm, and I felt nothing. My mother told me to look away. She offered her hand for me to hold. I just kept looking at my arm, watching someone else’s blood rush into the containers.
It couldn’t be my blood. It couldn’t be my body.
This couldn’t actually be happening. I was a zombie who was still breathing somehow.
I kept up that persona during the exam. It’s a blur.
I remember having to repeat the words to every nurse and doctor who came to examine me.
They weren’t even words anymore.
Just a monologue that I had become too familiar with.
The next thing I remember was finally crying.
It was after I had been examined, and every fluid my body produced had been taken for testing.
It was after we told the police officers that we would be at the station first thing in the morning for a formal statement.
We walked through the doors of the hospital, and my legs gave out from under me.
I remember thinking that my life was actually over.
And looking back on it, I guess it was.
That part of my life was over.
Things would never be the same.
They’re still not the same.
There were so many words after that.
Words that became routine.
Words that as a 10 year-old, I had never said in front of my mother. Or to an adult.
Words like “*****.”
And “*****.”
And “*******.”
Words like “*****.”
And “drunk.”
And “oral ***.”
I didn’t even know the words for some of the things that had happened.
But I learned them.
In interview rooms.
With police officers recording my words.
Writing down my words.
I remember the words my mother said when they finally charged him.
I remember what he finally got sentenced to.
“****** assault therapy.”
And I remember all the words I did not say.
I remember living in my bed for weeks.
I remember the fits of rage.
I remember my mother.
Who had been torn open from the inside out.
I remember words like “I want to die.”
And “What am I going to do now?”
Even now these words make my stomach turn.
These words that seem to belong to someone else.
Someone weaker. And more naïve.
Not me.
My words are different now.
Words like “Friends.”
And there are still words that I struggle with.
Words like “Love.”
Words like *“Survivor.”
2.1k · Apr 2014
She's scared...
NitaAnn Apr 2014
She sighs,
the whole world is crashing down
piece by piece it falls upon the ground.

She's tired,
of dealing with all this pain
she wants it to stop, she feels insane

She's sad,
even though you see a smile
they've all been fake for a long time now

She hopes,
that things will be okay
but she's tired of fighting every day.

She wants,
to just feel happy in her life
no more running to that glistening knife.

She cares,
but things now seem to mean a lot less
like the heart that's bleeding in her chest.

She cries,
but no one's around to hear
she knows she's alone; her greatest fear.

She's scared,**
she can feel herself dim from sight
there seems to be nothing left tonight.
2.0k · Aug 2014
NitaAnn Aug 2014
I hate myself. That's the short of it. I have struggled with this as long as I can remember. In talking with DT this week, he reminded me of some of the reasons that I am a good person. I hear it, my brain processes the words, my heart wants to believe it, but then the familiar words of "if he only knew" creep in and consume any hopes of believing it is true. Sad thing is, he does know. He knows more about me than any other person... he knows the nitty gritty details, the good, the bad and the dark & ugly. So if someone who does "know" can still find the good in me, then why the hell can't I believe it?

It's frustrating. I don't enjoy walking around feeling like this. Shame is my cloak and hatred follows me wherever I go. I envy the people who have good self-esteem because I am not one of those people. My husband is one of those who just looks comfortable in his own skin. My skin is too tight. So I cut.

I was taught to cut. By someone close to me who was hurting me. It is almost as if it was their calculated attempt to hide my feelings from the world and show me how to turn them inward. The sad thing is, cutting as I was taught did ease my feelings of guilt, shame, anger, etc. It was my release and my best means of controlling my feelings. A simple cut was a distraction to the larger pain. I believe this is where my self-destructive behavior took root.

Over the years my self-destruction has taken many forms. Alcohol, drugs, more cutting, binge eating, not eating, and pushing everyone away who even attempted to love or care for me. "I will make them leave before they can decide on their own to leave me", that was my constant thought. I've always thought it to be better anyways because anyone who got to know me surely would be repulsed by my secrets. I work hard to ruin my own success because I'm terrified of the good happening in my life. Good means that it can turn to bad. However, it sure is a lot of work to live my life like this and from the outside looking in, it must look strange to watch me ruin the good things going for me. I know my husband sees it as strange; a frequent argument between us is my resistance to let him love me. He knows me, maybe not all the dark and sordid details but he still knows me. And even then, I still resist the good that is him in my life.

All this leads me back to the silent treatment. I ignore my own feelings, thoughts, emotions, and dreams. In a sense, I give myself the silent treatment. And in return, that pain created by the silence, leaks out as self-destruction and hatred. When the good comes in my life I embrace it for a time and actually attempt to feel. But then, like clockwork, I shut down and the silence begins. An internal temper-tantrum eventually ensues, screaming to get my attention only to be met with more silence until I can no longer ignore it. By then I am so out of control that I resort to self-destruction which temporarily cures the larger pain in my life.

In writing this, I can see that I'm actually quite predictable. No wonder people close to me are maddened to watch this process happen time and time again. So here goes, I'm going to start listening to myself and hearing them out instead of screaming back to shut up. Hearing myself has to be easier in the long term than continuing to make a mess out of my life through self-destruction because now, for the first time, my own destruction is hurting those around me who love me and that is something I cannot continue to do.
Next page