Monsters

How long does one have to sit with pain before it finally resolves itself, or is some just completely lifelong. Memories I throught I'd gotten past bother me again tonight. Trying to sleep but already feeling like a failure. Why does this month torture me so badly? Why today in particular? SO much pain the body remmbers that the mind so desperately wishes it could forget.

The tormented mind calls again

Sometimes, late at night when sleep is scare and the moon is high, I wonder why about certain things. So many hauntings of hidden abuse inside my head, its a wonder I didn't end up dead. Why did my mom never protect me? Why when I finally got the courage to ask for help from the depths of my personal hell, did I get beaten to an inch of my life instead? Her rage and hate kept me silent about what he did to me for years, convinved if I said anytihng I'd be beaten again. IF you tell, you'll be in trouble too. Words he always said my entire life, I never fully believed until that night. I didn't deserve that beating, to be scremed at, and called a liar and a slut. Later, when she was done beating me, she called Jeff screaming on the phone. Mom threated him with a firing squad. I burst into tears thinking I'd be shot too. Why didn't she justa dial 911? The cops would have come, the evidence was all over the house, from dirty clothes to bedding to my own body. All they would have had to do was check the closet. Find the little black box of his sick and twisted, preverted secrects. THe tapes and photographs He locked away in it. It took me too many years to figure out what that tricorder and camcorder was for, but now the memory of that little red light on the camcorder haunts me. How many VHS tapes from Jeff's private homemade child porn stash exists? Did he ever try making money selling any copies? How many other pedophiles have seen them? That throughts in my head sicken me. So many years of that camcorder set up beside the bed. So mamy lies of its off he put in my head. Now I know better instead. Instead of geting help, I was bloody, bruised and injured. My back pain to this day I trace back to that single beating. Sometiems I just want to ask my mother way. Why instead of protecting me, did she go insane and punish me so harshly for the abuse I endured, and never asked for or wanted to begin with? I was so young when it began, it took years to even realize it wasn't normal, and by then the gaslighting was deep inside of my head. Better to stay silent then wind up dead. Thats what her beating taught me instead. I never felt safe from that moment on. Why didn't she act to help me instead? She was an adult, I was just a tormented child, living in the hell of my father's sick perversion. Jeff doesn't deserve his freedom, he deserves to experience this hell. He's a pedophoile who abused me, my siblings, and who know how many other children he's had access to over the years. Sometimes I wish I could locate even one in tact VHS, send it to the cops, and watch his entire life burn. Why did I never sneak into his room, late at night, and take one single tape to the nice cop's house who lived by the school? I could have saved myself, my siblings, and who knows how many other little girls so much pain and abuse. Hindsight sadly is 20/20. I'd take a few months or years of humilation and shame at this point if it would put that man in prison, but I fear it may sadly be way too late to prove anything of the hell he put me through. It is doomed to live on forever deep in the back of my mind, one of the many demons roaring in my head. This guilt and self hate could eat me alive if I let it. The memories locked inside my head, no one deserves to live the life of slavery that I did. May one day he and all other pedophiles be found out and uncovered. there is no statue of limitations for childhood abuse anymore. Sometimes I wonder if I have enought evidience to press charges. I wish they could look inside my head and see the memories for themsevles. They would know the truth and could lock him up far away where he couldn't hurt anyone else. Why do these monsters rage so hard in my head?

Nov 29, 1962-Feb 16, 2022 RIP step father

Death has come knocking upon the door of the family this month. My stepfather's last words to me where to invite me to come over for dinner. It still feels so surreal. I don't like to think about it. I guess his death hurt more then I ever expected it to. Growing up my father was abusive. Lee was the only father I truely had. He was there, and wililng to support, and put time, energy and effort into two broken, bitter, and traumatised kids who where determined to hate him. He tried making good memories with us, when we let him. All 5 of us kids where difficult. It took a long time to build trust between us, and come to an understanding, but somewhere along the way it did happen. I miss you Papa. Thankyou for being my father for the past 23 years. You brought traditions and lessons to my life I will always treasure. RIP

holiday

 Holidays are here again and its so hard to gather the modivation to do what I want for the holidays. My brother gave me a cheap little HP Chromebook. I kinda like it but it does make me miss my monsterous Asus laptop. I am enjoying owning a laptop again though. I am just not in the mood for anything.

Spirals

Once again this crippling depression settles on my weary soul. Even among a crowd of friendly faces I feel isolated and alone. So tired of this depression weighting so heavily on my heart. So tired of feeling exhausted and numb. Intrusive throughts haunt me tonight. So much pressure is building in the back of my head. some days I think I would be better off dead.

when does life ever feel safe and secure? Not this overwhelming feeling that the other shoe is going to drop and something bad is going to happen. I want to look forward to the future for once. I'm so tired of feeling so hopeless and destroyed on the inside. I'm losing it entirely and I can't even force myself back from the edge this time. I wish I had someone to talk to tonight, but who would I even call? Who would put up with me for a little while so I can sort out the darkest demons that lurk in the back of my mind? I know so few souls who would even be willing to listen.

I feel so overwhelmed and out of control. Am I even worth saving anymore?

My own prison

The demon is back in the house. Anger and hate. Screaming rage... pounding on the walls. The anxiety and fear. Stress and fear.. I'm so exhausted. So very tired of feeling like this. Of being angry and frustrated.

I'm tired of dealing with someone who screams instead of talk. I'm tired of hearing the vibrations and sounds of beating on walls in rage, of the pacing and the yelling. Flying into a flight of rage over a dishes complaint. We have ants coming into the kitchen at night looking for food so he leaves out a feast of fresh cooked meat and grease all over the sink for them. No wonder they use that window exclusively.

 Why can't I find a nice easy going guy who doesn't scream and pound on shit when he's angry? I don't want a guy who spends two damn days a week responsible for cleaning the house and screaming at me about it. I can't help not wanting to live in complete and utter filth. I didn't grow up that way. Leaving messes or dirty dishes draws bugs and rodents, and I will never live with infestations in my house again. Did that as a teen for far too long after my mom married a man with three extra kids and gave up cleaning daily. Its why i spent nearly every day at my best friends house. It was cleaner then mine and I didn't have to watch roaches crawling around on the walls and floors. never doing that again. im just so tired of living w so much anger and stress. I cut too deep this time and the only thing I can do si bring myself to just watch the blood drip down my arm. I don't even care anymore how deep the blade goes. I wish I was dead.

bad times.

 It's getting bad again. Today all I wanted was to change my tires. Stressful day with being screamed at for asking brice to lower his voice and not yell in my ear.

I'm tired of being made fun of for my PTSD, anxiety and depression. Yelling is a trigger. Punching and hitting things is a trigger. But he refuses to care and instead ridiculed me. I'm sick of feeling subhuman because I suffer from depression and anxiety.

I shouldn't have to deal with a guy who thinks the appropriate response to being asked to not yell and lower his voice is to scream even more then Start punching his face, scream again and then punch my dash and radio. Watching him abuse himself and my dash just makes me feel sick and scared. i dont know how to calm him down and deal wirh these issues. i usually avoid this kind of rage and only ever broke tree branches in anger when i was younger. i get the need to oet rage out but nevr seen anyone try giving thrmselved their own black eye. how the hell do you deal wirh that?