I feel angry that people think they know what it was like, what it is like. 

Pretending to understand and empathize. 

If you saw it, you may know, otherwise, no. 

Look at a photo of that person and really say how you can see how that can happen.  I don’t think anyone can really see that. 

It’s all I see. But I don’t think it can be really seen or comprehended in others. 

I feel so selfish. 

Perhaps it would be better if I stopped relationships, stopped torturing others with my crap. 

I’m really scared I can’t change, that I won’t be able to let it go, that I can’t let someone help me, that I’ll always push away. 

It’s quite surreal to appear fairly normal yet have a raging internal conflict between wanting people to actually love me and see me and know what he did and know what I think and feel and still want to be connected to me, and afraid of people and not believing them and not trusting them and keeping them away, and also not having my own thoughts and wants. 

My head hurts but it’s not pain. I feel sick. It feels like I could step over into rage or depression or hysteria quite easily. 

There seems too many thoughts to work through. 

I think about it every day. Every day. 

What would it be like if I were able to select memories and erase them. Would I still be fucked up and just not know why? Surely I would have a different opinion of myself; I may be more comfortable in this body, not see and feel so disgusting. The freedom to be. Be what? I guess anything but what I think about every day. 

Angry

He’s taken his power over me to his grave.

I’m just managing to hold my anxiety in check, I’ve been on the verge of panic for the past 5 hours. I can’t seem to shift it. I don’t know what else to do. 

I don’t know how to let it go. 

I can’t move out of this. 

I am too unwell to work this stuff out. I don’t know how to get my thoughts, images, smells, feelings out. I can’t fix me. I don’t believe I will be able to be different, to be normal. How can someone even know or understand the experiences, I cannot explain them. Maybe I can never believe if someone believes or actually hears me. 

It seems more logical to stop trying. This is when I feel backed into a corner and just wanting out of everything. My history is bigger and so much more powerful than me and I think we are kidding ourselves if we can’t see that. I have no way of moving away from it. 

Someone else knowing those things is extremely anxiety producing. I feel sick and hear the noise in my head. Don’t look at me, don’t talk to me, don’t patronize me. 

Start talking about it and the light stays on , the film is on loop. Anxious about talking. A few hours of broken sleep and now heading into the world pretending I’m normal and have everything under control, not the disgusting damaged person I feel 

I would like to have all of what they did taken away. Imagine if it was just lifted. But I know that’s a fantasy and the reality is very different. It is ingrained in me and will permeate from me forever. I think all I can do is contain it, even though that is not enough 

If I try to have a more objective view, all I see is a weak pitiful damaged child. And I know it’s irrational that I want to take it out on that child, but at times I feel so angry I really want to hurt that child