From: anon-1218@twwells.com (Anika)
Newsgroups: alt.sexual.abuse.recovery
Subject: Update on My World
Date: 18 Nov 92 21:47:31 GMT
Organization: Anonymous Posting Service at twwells.com
X-Email-Accepted: yes




Hi, everyone.

This is an update on my world, if you care to read it. I've been posting a lot
of intellectual stuff and avoiding dealing with the emotions. Of course, they
appear to be shut off now, so I don't know that it matters. I've been
receiving some really wonderfully supportive mail and I appreciate it more
than I can say. I can tell you there *is* a light at the end of the tunnel,
but I can't say I've reached it yet. I'm doing really well dealing with the
present without being affected by the past a lot. I thought that would be the
end of it, but here I am, and I don't even have all the memories back! Strange
how this works. So don't go thinking I'm really advanced in my recovery or
anything. That scares me a little because I'd hate to have people be terribly
surprised if I come in with a post one day that is Anika falling apart.

My mother has still not responded to my second letter. I'm feeling that if I
keep mailing that original, we'll be pushing into an harassment issue. I don't
know what to do. 

I'm going to post my latest "issue". It's what I've been working on for about
the last three months, and I've been getting nowhere. I feel it's out of
the league of this board as well as out of my own league, and it will explain
why I'm so afraid of falling apart. Please be warned of major spoilers. This
is not for anyone with a weak stomach...


****SPOILERS*SPOILERS*SPOILERS****



 


















You must be this tall to ride....


















Okay, here we are. Deeeeeeeep breath. some people who know me via e-mail know
this already, but I need to tell anyone who will read. Maybe some input will
help me work through it faster.

While I was remembering the abuse my mother participated in, I had weird
"flashes" of a sort. I first gripped it when I realized I had pushed open the
stall in the women's locker room and expected or feared to see my friend's
head in the toilet. "Hey," I said, "This ain't normal." (I'm quick that way)
Then I noticed that every time I left a friend, I was afraid I'd never see
them alive again, or I'd come back to their home and find them horribly
gruesomely murdered. I also felt that these deaths would have been "prepared"
for me. Like the head was put in the toilet so *I* would find it, and the
friend was killed in such a violent way (we're talking blood intentionally
smeared on the walls) so as to make it more awful for me when I found it.
Simultaneous with all this, I "remembered" an old friend of mine from way back
whom I hadn't thought of in years. His name was Aaron, and he lived up the
hill from me.

Aaron was an *adorable* little boy a few grades younger than me. He had a
problem with his legs, like he was knock-kneed, and ended up in a brace that
forced his knees a few feet apart. It was only temporary, intended to work
like braces do for the teeth. Anyway, this never bugged me, and as he was
vivacious, cute and fun, I enjoyed walking to school with him and talking with
him. Apart from me, he was sort of a loner, because the brace limited what he
could do, but we didn't care much. I remember seeing him sporadically - we
never planned to meet - but I generally saw him fairly frequently. I remember
him telling me the brace was to come off fairly soon, and I was eager for this
to happen, because I wanted to see him standing at his full height and running
naturally. But I never saw him again. The next time I remember thinking of him,
I was looking up the hill and wondering why I hadn't seen him in so long. I
stood there, feeling desolate for a minute and then said to myself, "Oh well.
He must've moved." And that was it. I never thought of him again. He was
probably 9 at the time.

Several other things came back at the same time. I avoided the newspaper like
the plague. I had read it when I was younger, but I never read it - even when
I got to high school. It was Ann Landers and the comics, and nothing could get
me to read any other part of it. Also, I could hear me saying over and over,
"He's NOT a cripple!" though I don't remember anyone saying he was in the time
I hung out with him.

After this, I started playing with the idea that my stepfather had murdered
this boy. It seemed (seems) so outrageous that I don't know why I contemplated
it, but I did. I asked myself how I would know if he had, and suddenly I had a
really clear image. I was walking through my kitchen toward the basement
stairs. The house was empty, but there was noise in the basement, so I went to
look. I can see the kitchen, I can tell what time of day it was, I can tell
the weather and the temperature. It's very vivid. I walk to the basement
stairs and start walking down, the lights on, and I clear the overhang so I
can see into the basement...and it goes grey.

Other things have come back, not entirely connected. I have an image of my
step holding Aaron on his lap. Aaron's screaming and trying to get away. My
step turns and smiles at me and there's the lunatic face that haunts me. I
think I ran away and came back to find him in the basement. I have an image of
him shaking Aaron's head - just his head - at me and I'm transfixed by the
eyes and the stuff hanging out of it. I've had really clear images of flesh
being cut, torn and mutilated by a chainsaw. I had a "dream" that my step came
in and started cutting my SO with a chainsaw. I started to run away, but
stopped myself with the argument, "I can't let this happen again." Again? I've
never had nightmares about being abused again, and I know my step did that. My
nightmares are of remembering and of being murdered, usually with a chainsaw.
I can see my hands covered with blood...I think he made me help dispose of the
body. I even think I know where the body is, if I could just remember. Somehow
I'm certain it was never found. I also have this image of my step really
enjoying playing in the remains. I think he may have tasted or eaten some of
it.

OH GOD HOW CAN I EVEN BE THINKING THESE THINGS?!?!?!?!?!?!

It's strange. I feel so much pain, yet I feel nothing.

I realized recently that there have been decapitated heads in my dreams for
years. I also think those fears have been with me a long time, but I'm only
just acknowledging it.

I don't know what this means. If this were a sexual abuse memory, I'd know
what to make of it. But it's not. It's much worse. much much much much worse.
It's not coming back the way other memories have. There's no clear burst of
knowledge, there are only pieces floating here and there, and they're
gradually incorporating themselves into a whole. But is this real? (Stay away
FMS, I'll decide for myself, thankyouverymuch) Maybe I came up with something
in a state of hysteria (me? in hysteria?) and have been making up pieces to
make it fit. I don't know.

Since I'm not certain of the exact time period, and I wasn't even sure Aaron
was involved (though I'm pretty sure the image of my step holding him is real,
don't know why I can accept that and not the rest...), it's difficult for me
to act on this. I called the police of that locale. They weren't computerized
then, and haven't computerized the old records. I was asking them to dig up
boxes and boxes of old files and look for a needle in a haystack. If *I*
worked in the records dept., this would be the whole purpose of my job, but
the guy I got was grumpy and pissy and treated me like I was a crackpot. They
never looked. The only option remaining would be to go back and look through
the local newspapers. I don't want to go home, and that would be even more of
a needle in a haystack. If I had *anything* *concrete* it would be different.

So that's my current issue. I go home at night and waves of horror wash over
me. It's not fear or terror, just plain horror, and it doesn't tend to be
connected with anything. Does anyone have any idea what I'm dealing with? If
you know of similar stories which turned out to be either true or false, I'd
like to hear them. I want to know what I'm dealing with here, and why I'm
seeing these things in my mind if they're not real. Someone please help.

							Anika



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