What I've learned about myself in the past two weeks

First off, the sexual abuse started when I was five. I'll spare you the details.

There are two locations that I can now name with certainty.

I had my first confirmed visual of the molestation which erased any and all doubts that I had been "making it up". That, in and of itself, changed me enormously.

I started getting physically sick on a very regular basis at that age.

Illness is not a fault. My body didn't handle the abuse with any ease. Very normal.

I had always known the name of my pediatrician. I could even give you a description of the parking lot and outside of the building. But I had zero recall of what the doctor physically looked like. The memory was ingrained with the part of me that's five. Well, at therapy, five shared with me a most vivid and highly detailed visual memory of what my pediatrician looked like. Five, in a sense, showed me a short video as she recalled a visit there. Five could relay the entire conversation and everything that took place. I now know exactly what my doctor looked like, how he dressed, and what his voice sounded like.

I am rather amazed at the power of memory. So, I watched, listened and learned. Now fives memory is shared and mine:)

I also felt the extreme starvation of a hungry child. I'm not sure if it is just physical hunger or with the added tone of emotional hunger, as well.

I remember a near drowning experience, at the hands of my mother. Holding my shoulders underwater. After that incident, I basically lost the will to want to engage with others.

At five, I became very despondent and gave up on life. I prayed for God to let me die. Im still kinda upset with Him for not letting me. I lost the will to live and became hopelessly lost in a highly depressed state.

I learned two words, collusion and malaise. My parents whispered to each other a lot when I complained of certain physical maladies. Mom knew full well what dad was doing. They were in collusion.

I'm beginning to trust more.

I can read some people, their faces, eyes and movements, incredibly well and accurately.

My autism does not show up in my abuse memories.

It's starting to make sense why my body has oft felt numb and foreign.

I'm beginning to realize how the crimes of my father have altered my thoughts and feelings.

I am coming to terms with long-carried inadequacies and negative patterns.

I fought through a couple fears, old walls. I felt myself getting embarrassed and wanted to bolt...stopping myself and dealing with that sensation. My ears burned, my chest tightened but I decided it was safe to try and work through it. And I succeeded.

I actually made an uncomfortable bold move, took a chance and asked for something I needed. And I got it:) that made me veryvery happy:)

People can be warm and soft and not want to hurt me.

Survivors have a certain radar...sometimes we recognize each other without saying a word.

Lots of steps in the right direction.

Examining the past, so that I can finally move forward.