Low Tide...after effects, unable to understand words

It's low tide and so much more is visible, in the mucky sand.

I often use words that I don't comprehend. Instead of my brain producing a verbal/ logical definition, I get visual images. For instance, the word "suffer" has cropped up frequently these days, but I don't understand the word. My brain gives me a visual scene....suffer is...being a small child of four, with my father looking down at me, tears streaming down my cheeks, his index finger pointed barely an inch from my face. He is angry, well, his teeth and lips are angry, which is what I "see", and his hot, angry breath is poofing all over my face. That is what I understand of the word, "suffer".

In the same light, "neglect" is empty cupboards, an empty house and parents with broken arms.

My abuse took many forms. I have been struggling with words to try and explain. The only two words that give an accurate...semblance to my childhood, are "severe" and "extensive". My therapist has been helping me sort things out. In my head, I was subjected to four different types of abuse:

Neglect- which means my daily basic needs were not met, ie, food, heat, clean clothing, basic nutrition and hygiene plus, somehow I think some degree of love or affection might be in there.

(I write this all out in hopes of getting a better handle on things. Trying to figure it all out here folks)

Daily Physical Abuse-which I categorize as the "mundane" and ordinary hitting with objects, hands, hair pulling, you know, the stuff most of my siblings and I endured on a daily basis.

Sexual Abuse- I think that one is self-explanatory...otherwise known as incest

Physical Abuse that was done to me, alone with my sadistic father, otherwise known as torture. Oh, I understand that word extremely well.

This latter category is the one currently afloat. I have quite an emotional outpouring regarding the fact that my dad choose to "play" torture games with me, alone, at night, in the basement. He...delighted in finding new ways to inflict pain upon my physical body. I have, among other things, cigarette burns all over my body from those days. Without need of even trying to look, I can honestly tell you I have a burn on my back, slightly below and to the right of my left shoulder blade. I know this...because in the remembering there is pain. The hurt will probably go away as the "psychological" wound heals. Experience tells me that it will get a little better, less painful, everyday for about five days. Just like a real wound, the memory burns and needs to heal in about the same amount of time. When the injury initially happened, I was forced to suppress and repress the pain. I did...now, I want to heal....one small wound at a time.

I'm fine...just laying low these days....watching the waves ebb and flo...playing in the muck.

Oh yeah, the years 7-9 I have termed the "dirt age". At that time my entire life turned upside down and I turned to smoot. The visual of how I saw my self: a small girl, covered in dirt, black smoot and slime, encased within a clear, kid-sized clear bubble...staring at my hands and knowing that I will never be clean. Severe and extensive bout sums it up. I'm working...I'm therapitizing. I'm fine