My Daily Journal

2/23/12 5:13 a.m. I’ve decided to journal when I first wake up.  It is when everything hurts the most.   My body, my back and neck so tense.  My breathing is shallow.  I feel weak.   My anxiety level is now again a 4, how much longer can my body continue to operate in this constant state of hyper vigilance? Even though I’m getting better at coping and managing the nightmares and the flashbacks they are still fresh.  In some ways it still feels like just yesterday and last night there were 3 of them. 

The time I was maybe 4 and hid in the tiny little closet, behind the vacuum cleaner, all day after my Mother had gone on a rampage.  I stayed there until my Dad came home from work at 3 even though at some point I could hear outside the door more and more neighbors come and go to help my Mother look for me.  When my Dad got home I just busted out of the closet and into his arms.  Over and over again I was asked why I did that.  I was silent and had no words and I don’t know why.  I was then punished for doing this because I had scared everyone.  Didn’t they see that I was just a little girl and I was the one who was scared?  Is this when my body shut down?

The second one, again around the same age 4 or 5.  My Father was working 11-7 and when he did my Mother made me sleep with her.  I just remember waking up because the bed was soaking wet and I thought I had an accident in the bed and was going to be in big trouble. I was scared and sobbing.  I knew this would set her “off”.   At some point I was there trying to wake her up and then realized that her pajamas were soaking wet and I couldn’t wake her up.  I just sat there sobbing in the soaking wet sheets drenched with urine.  Then my Dad came home.  Then the ambulance came.  She had overdosed AGAIN.  I just watched them put her body into the ambulance.   Nobody really paid much attention to me.  Why?  Was I already that numb and looked okay?

The last one I had to be 8 or 9.  Remember coming home and my Dad asking me what happened and before I could open my mouth my Mother told him that my door wasn’t shut and I fell out of the car?????  That is not what happened!!!!!! I remember as plain as day.  We were in the white Ford Fairlane with the red interior and it was just getting dark.  We were somewhere over by the cemetery and she looked over and said your door is not shut right and reached over and I watched her pull the shiny silver handle up and thinking she was going to shut it better but instead pushed me out of the car and sped away.   I sat there alongside the road for what seemed to be eternity just sobbing and crying.  My knee and my elbow and hand bleeding and burning from the scrape.  Finally she came back.  She got out of the car and came over to me and just disgustingly made a remark about someday she will get the job done.  She yelled and screamed at me to get back into the car.  When I wake up from this particular flashback I still have to turn on the light to check my knee and elbow and had because they hurt that much in the nightmare.

As I sit here I can’t connect to anything I was feeling.  It’s all trapped inside that little tiny part of my brain that now causes me to be so anxious. 

Dear God please help me make sense of this.  I keep waiting for you to answer me.  Although today I do feel a sense of orderliness about what I need to do.  I need to start sharing this story, not for me, but for others especially all the children out there suffering and someone in their life knows they are suffering or these stories may cause them to wonder????  Children have no voice and never speak and I have no clue why?  People please open your eyes and ears.  The statistics for child abuse, child sexual abuse, and 5 children die every day from abuse?  Abortion turned out to be a big deal in the political campaign and yet these statistics are published on government websites and are never even mentioned in the campaign?        Signed


About zappedin2008

In 2008, at age 50, my life was turned upside down and inside out with diagnosis of Complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder as a result of childhood trauma endured as a result of events/experiences with my Mother who was diagnosed with Paranoid Schizophrenia when I was age 2. I believe in the power of support and hope to connect with others to share experiences, ideas for recovery, etc. as we make this journey.
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One Response to My Daily Journal

  1. Nicole Pierce says:

    I can’t tell you how much it means to me to read about your experiences. I also have CPTSD and one of the things I struggle with the most is feeling so alone. Knowing others are going through things similar to me is so sad but also gives me hope. Thank-you.

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