Walking Wounded

Wednesday, February 4, 2009


Ptsd sucks!
parasites of my mind
Left a thoughtful comment on the other blog about restoration.
I went through a lot of recovery. I never really ever told people about the expirences in detail of what I went through.
In an attempt to perhaps challenge the ghosts of the past, those that are not in my waking thoughts but disturb me with in congruent actions perhaps I might open up a little.

these migraines are photo synthetic. The bright lights in my eyes bring them on. It is really annoying. It sets off a rage in my and a fit of frustration follows. Then I feel like crap about myself because I act like someone I am not (ie a sharp tongued mean person) spitting out self assertions that I matter!

I was reading this womans blog posts and thought what if she has a point here. I know all the religious stuff does not just make it go away. "the past is the past , forget about it". Wow that would be so cool if I could get along with that. I will not be a heal though.
I have riden this hours a lone for a long long time.
I skirt around the expierences telling generalities of wha tit was like or the legal terms for what they did to me.
Those who are clostest to me have never even heard the details of what it was like to have expierenced thow horrific events.
I have often been told that it is such an amazing story, how I have to tell it. In that I hear "tickel my ear with all the gory details so I can stand amazed at how wicked people can be.

Well I feel angry because these things happened to me and I shut my mouth. I hold it in. I hang on and in there trying my best to look at today with joy and delight, gratitude and expectation. My "damned" past is just that damned! My present and future are the things that are blessed. I hate my childhood and I am pissed that I know what I know and have seen what I have seen.

In the scriptures I read speek on these things that you have seen and heard and witnessed in Me.
In God!
Not inthe evil. so the evil is withheld. Hidden away away in those lonly hurt devistated places. Poetry and novel via fictional characters. To tell you first hand exactly what it was like would haunt you and give you the bad dreams that were a reality for me. So out of that concideration for those around me I hold the secreates of horror that noone should ever know.

Those bright lights of childhood
Get ready because I am really Pist!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Alright ( by the way reader I am not angry at you) I am just sick of these flippen migrains and if this might just be what it takes than fine!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Man I am afraid my nails are short for this world. Maybe thats why they have been bit to nubs.

Those bright light.
They were set up to photgraph via vidio. Those old type reel to reels that clicked and clampered as they filmed. Those bastards who then drugged me those perverted set to be killed bastards!
Men! I a ofur year old! Men! they had not bussines with me.

God....Dear God almight what if you bastards a kin to them read this you dirty buggers!
how dare you touch us!Thjat would just suit your fancy for me to tickle your ears with my horror tail you bastardsz!

to delete or not to delete.....

You must know this is the pandoras box.

What they did to me.

The horror of being washed in a tub and hearing them say "she will never remember this' dirty bastard . I kept my word and I told on all of ya! dead now dead and gone and than you live still this day doing it over and over generation ofter generation!


I awoke in a stupper. I had wet my underware.....with blood.

I stood at the sink afraid of what my mother would do if I caused her more laundry.
I wet the bed a lot and she was very frustrated with me. I learned to sleep in urine soaked linins as to avoid her anger. so I never told her about the blood. I tried to wash it out at the little sink. That little pedisel sink in the bathroom where he raped me for the first time at four years old.
where I tried to crawl away from hip backward like a russian dance. and he pinned me agains tthe wall on the floor.
that dirty bastard! his own wife would not even have him!!!!!!!

They lived in our basement. The best thing that "ever happened for my mom" a built in childcare. They just had to pay less rent for the bennefit of raping her dayghter. Dear old uncle bill (lack of caps are intentional!) . He was not even blood related! I hate it when people act like folk are relations when they are not. makes a kid feel obligated!

these people followed us all over the country. they moved to evey city my mom did. Built in VICTEMMM@!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So I had no memory of my childhood .
when I was 18 years old a call came in at my employment. I heard "your uncle bill died" , just thought you would like to know..."

They found me in the bathroom at the bank hitting my head hard against the bathroom walls.
I had no cognitive memory at 18 of why or who or what he had done to me .
That was not restored until i was 26.........I could not remember when I had lost my verjinty
I was praying and asking God about it. You see by then I was a believing in Christ Christian and people talked about that alot. .
That was the first flash back I had.

It was a living breathing flashback as if I was there in that bathroom trying to escape bill.

My husband had to help me through the memory helping me to keep my eys open. If I closed them I was 4 years old again like it was happening at that very moment.

a few years before that I had gone for prayer for I was tormented with anxiety and fear, panic attacts and episodes of awakeing in a closet not knowing how I got there.
These well meaning , IGNORANT pentacostal Christians said I had a demon in me. They did an exercist on me ..........yep..........from the fire to the frying pan.

I just went farther within.

Folks did not understand at all about PTSD back then . infact my early writtings were actually used in some of the early medical conventions on servivors recovery methods,

a great story....i just withdrew.

Bright lights. on me and cutting into me. they hurt.....they tore my flesh.....I bled. They quickend me to fight the drug they gave me and to tell to witness, to make them unsuccessful in "she wont remember". Sometimes I wish I couldnot remember. But I have always been the strong willed to do what is just kind of girl.

thats all I have to say ablut that.


~Bren~ said...

I love you my friend. You are brave and a true survivor...no more a victim. You escaped, now your mind is trying to escape...this is how it will succeed, by letting it escape on these pages. (((hugs)))

Denise said...

I am sending you a LONG email........ Cannot even begin to tell you what my heart cries for you.. I will try...... I have thoughts ........ The Christ that loved you before the foundation of the world stands ready........HE knows how to lead you out.........

Give me a day or so to read and pray.....There is joy for the morning....

Michele Rosenthal said...

bravo, donetta -- BRAVO. you are a brave and wonderful woman. you are a survivor taking back her power through the use of words. i wonder how you feel now that you've 'spoken' about your history here. shoot me an email. thanks for joining me in the quest to heal!

Songs of my heart