A tiny bit better day!
I was suprised by my feelings this morning. I was not feeling shame of myself. I did drink last night, but I was able to forgive that to myself. I needed that moment of not feeling a thing. It is sad, my capasity to deal with my emotions is still limited, but I am learning. Slowly. Painfully. I can’t take this all at once. I can’t easen my burden by just tossing everything down at the same time. I can only deal with small amount of pain at the time.
Now I have felt the pain of my own father hurting me. I feel this freezing feeling comes from actually loosing too much blood. I did felt like I was dying. It was my own real tought at that situation. I probably passed out, cause I feel the pain turning into something warm blurred feeling and felt like not wanting to wake up. I think I know. And it hurts like hell. My mom knew it too. She was crying. She also thought I was going to dye. She was begging my father to stop. She did not do anything to actually stop it.
This is what I should learn to live with. How? How can I ever get past this. I was my fathers little maid. He was my first master and I feel totally ruined. I feel disgusting. I feel like I am forever marked as something worthy of nothing. I have been part of something so discusting that I just want to throw up. I hate myself. I feel like I can never be cleaned. I feel so filthy that I just want to rub my skin of with the raiser. I hate my daddy and my mom. I hate them. I hate them. They are sick persons. They should be in jail. And still I know they are my only parent. I feel like I should not tell anyone. These are our family secrets. These do not belong to anyone else to know. No one could ever understand. I love them. They are like children to me. We are mixed together in very unhealthy way. I need to take care of them. They are trying to change. They are crowing. They try to care about me now. They have changed. I am not letting them to be alone with my children, but I do care for them. How sick is this? How sick am I? Should I feel more anger? Can I still care for them?
I feel more in peace within myself, eventhough I feel those shit truly happened to me. I do not need anyone to tell me what to feel. I do not need anyones bity or hatred towards my folks. I do know what they have done to me and how thay have not been able to care for me like ”normal” parents. I do know what they have done was a crime. I was a little child. I could not understand it, I could have been killed be it. They have done wrong to me. Now I am partly of these feelings. I can’t trule get this. I say I do, but I don’t. This is too much for me, even though I say othervise. I feel like I am trying to minimize this event. It was not so bad. I am fine with it. I can’t say it out loud. I can try to write it my dad raped me when I was only 3 years old.
No, it was not bad. It is fine. I am ok. No harm done. Fuck. I hate myself. I fucking hate this shit. I just want to dye. I can’t live with this shit. It did not happen to me. It was not me. And yet I know it us a little me. I know. I hate this. I do not want to know. I can’t take this. I can’t live with this. I do not want to feel this shit. And at the same time some part of me is feeling relieved. No more hiding. No more secrets. It can all be out in the open. Part of me feels strong. I can survive. I will get over this, when I just stop fighting against myself. Against my feelings and against my memories. When I just accept them I could start to recover. I could start to heal. Part part ofe still fight back. No it is not true. It is not me, that little ones is not me. It does not happen to me. I am immune to it. I do not feel it. I am out of it. I am not in my body, and still I can’t convince myself anymore. Parts of me knows, feels this, acceptance is still missing. I can’t force myself. But I do think I am closer than ever.
