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Sep 4 13

God Bless The Never-Ending Bond

by Brittany Ann

It’s been 12-ish years since I’ve seen or spoken to my abusive father: truly mentally ill, sadist, the most evil eyes. The domestic violence in our house, the child abuser who fucked my sexuality, who raped my body and violated the path to emotional health that every child deserves for life.

But… he had the most translucent blue eyes.

The truth is that anymore, I can list just as many reasons to want to contact him as I can not to contact him. Maybe the reason is that it is unnatural to sever, to just slice right through, the connection to one’s parents. Maybe I want to get my mother’s attention in the worst way; her knowing that I’ve talked to her own abuser after so many years. It would wind her up that I’ve talked to him but haven’t spoken to her in over 3 years.

Really though, I think that I just want it all to come full circle. I don’t want to do it for anyone but myself. But what if that’s the last straw for me? What if the grime that I can’t scrub off of me increases and drowns any (survivor) coping skills out?


© photo by emma.kate via flickr.

© photo by emma.kate via flickr.

Call me a liar. Call me a whore. Do one of your favorites: pushing a woman down from behind and pummeling her with your fists. But why can’t I have you if I need you? Why can’t I move on to peace between us if I don’t want us to hurt each other any more?

I will never be able to completely heal the sickness you have infected me with. So why do we have to pretend that you aren’t in my life? We both know that I wake up with you affecting me each and every day.


May 5 13

Missing Out With Friends and Family To Avoid Abuser

by Brittany Ann

You feel empowered. You’ve ended contact with your abuser. Then, oh damn. Sure, I’d upset some family and friends by putting that abuser out of my life. What do I do though when I’m expected somewhere where they will be? I’m not only expected. I am really wanted there.

© photo by Pink Sherbet Photography via flickr.

© photo by Pink Sherbet Photography via flickr.

You’re a broken seedling now. You were emerging, unique to yourself as peace comes when you put the shame and the blame where it belongs: with the abuser. Now you’re on unstable ground and there’s only a small stem where there used to be a slow bloom.

It usually doesn’t take long for a first dilemma to arise when you’ve got family and friends that don’t understand why you’ve cut off a somehow still beloved person to them. It hurt enough at the start when you decided that you wouldn’t share anymore air with the abuser, and you were criticized and misunderstood. Somehow, you got through it. You’ve followed through and haven’t seen the one who hurt you so in some time now. Here you are though, on unstable ground and all you may have for support is yourself.

“What do I do?” Your head goes from a throbbing ache to screaming that question at you.

  • Are you due at a close family event or even something very personal to you but he/she is there?
  • Is it a 1st birthday you so want to help celebrate, but that abuser will be there, too?
  • What do you do if a dear family member makes an achievement but the abuser will be there to celebrate?

These questions are reality for us, for childhood abuse survivors. They tend to pack heavy “consequences” no matter the decision to either go or to stay away from the abuser.

My mother hasn’t abused me for years, but three years ago I made one damn fine commitment to myself. I wouldn’t share the air with her anymore. If you’ve made a commitment like that, be proud of you too. No doubt that it’s taken what has felt like an endless supply of your physical and mental energy sometimes. It is not “natural” to separate from ones parents or family member in the forever sense. We can recognize the truth of that without taking on responsibility for it coming to this.

Do we go and please someone important but (maybe) heavily trigger and break our commitment to ourselves, or do we stay away physically and give what we can to them emotionally instead? “Damn” comes to mind again because there are so many things to consider.

It is my commitment not to go, not to share her air.

We are not at fault if our loved ones and friends won’t consider our feelings. They don’t have to know the “entire story” to know that it must be heavy for it to have come to this. 


Apr 30 13

Little Things You Put in Me That Grew BIG

by Brittany Ann

© photo by badjonni via flickr.

I’ve had to be quiet. I’ve had to be so quiet and silenced that I’ve left my job. Why would I do that after 9 years of success? I’m 26 with a successful working future to look to. At least it seemed that way for a short while.

“I did it” because I can’t stand through the paranoid thoughts anymore. I can’t lose focus and forget myself- really forget myself and dissociate daily in the healthcare field. I’ve felt surreal for some time now. It’s happening again like it did when I was younger and mentally checking out from the abuse by my mother and father.

My psychiatrist of 4 years is too late. He does what he can to treat my symptoms, but the effects of being a childhood abuse survivor can’t be medicated away. There’s no medication that will pull me back into myself. Nothing will keep my skin from crawling and tingling and keep my paranoia from being acted on verbally.

© photo by byob_soad2 via flickr.

- “How often would you estimate it happened?”

You instilled paranoia as I waited for 2-3 days for the next round of abuse.

- “You’re a whore. You’re a slut. You’re a whore, and this is your fault.”

This feels unreal,” I thought to myself as a child, when I just couldn’t block it out anymore and I heard you.

    - Mom is naked. Mom spreads her legs and touches herself in front of me.

My skin has never stopped tingling and crawling completely ever since.

- My father whipped me, but he punched at me, and he positioned his hands to hit me hard intimately. He positioned his body to all but suffocate me at his crotch. I felt him all around me and inside of me. I felt violence and fear encompassing me and replacing my air with its toxicity.

I was humiliated- beaten and aroused purposefully, suffocated and surrounded by a man at every part of me. His toxicity infected my body and mind.

I can’t pull me back to myself.