It's late

And I should be sleeping.

I'm full of "I wonder"s tonight.

I'm thinking of friendship again. I seem to vacillate between being incredibly grateful for it, and wondering exactly why it happens and what purpose it serves. Tolkien Boy would tell me to stop looking for a purpose and just accept that it is. Then he would probably tell me to stop speculating about what he would say. And I would miss him, and wish I could see him more often--and then I would remind myself that not everyone feels what I feel, and probably visiting with me quarterly is enough for anyone sane.

AtP would agree with me that friendship really serves no purpose and we would sit in silence wondering why we're both such defective friends and being glad we have a Facebook group which declares our deficit to the world. Then we would wish we could go play or eat cookie dough. Or we would laugh at something horribly inappropriate and wish we were not online, but actually in the same room.

Sully would say something lovely about friendship, which normally would leave me feeling even more of a failure--except somehow Sully would make it sound like I was a truly wonderful friend, and I'd end up feeling warm and loved--until he left and I realized that's how Sully makes everyone feel. It's his gift and part of what makes him so beautiful. And I would remember that I was privileged to feel that gift nearly every month this year, and I would feel incredibly blessed.

Ambrosia and I would make desserts together--probably before we ate anything very healthy, and we'd chat about the things on our minds. If she brought up something that was bothering her, in my overbearing way, I'd probably offer "fix-it" suggestions. I don't think I do this--but I might. My own impression of me, no doubt, is far removed from reality. Regardless, I would leave with something delightful in my stomach, having talked more than I usually do and listened less. I'm not sure why I have this tendency when I visit Ambrosia. I blame the dogs.

Jason would tell me all the reasons I'm good to have around. And while he was doing so, I'd be thinking of all the reasons I like having him around. We would easily talk about difficult subjects, and laugh because we were doing so. We would solve the problems of the world, only to circle back and recognize that, in reality, we'd solved nothing--but we had so much fun in the process of trying. Then he would realize that it was time for us both to say good-bye and spend time with our families. And after he left I would wonder why I never feel threatened or insecure with him. Maybe it's because sometimes I feel he lets me give to him. I'm not always the needy one. I have something real to contribute.

Darrin would tell me that everyone loves me, and he does, too. He would hold me and be glad to be home with me. Except, he hasn't been home for awhile, and then only for a couple of nights. I miss him. I've become independent--that's what I blog about--and then Darrin leaves and I can't sleep because I want him home. I don't need to depend solely on Darrin anymore--I've built an external support system--I've become stronger internally. But the truth is, I don't want to be alone. I asked Tolkien Boy if this makes me weak. He said no.

So tonight, I think about those I call my friends. Each relationship is unique in its breadth and depth. Each person brings me something joyful and new. Is this why we wish for other people to be close to us? to know us? to be a part of our lives?

But there is still a part of me which insists this is all temporary. Tolkien Boy will find what he searches for. AtP will find someone who makes him laugh more and likes chocolate just as much as I do. Sully will wander far and wonder why I made such a big deal about being his friend...

Somehow, I keep thinking Jason will stick around. There seems to be some reason to reconnect, and I often feel that of all the people I know, he's spent as much time researching me as I have researching him--and we're not bored with one another in spite of it. Plus, we have that skydiving date to look forward to (...wondering if Leslie will come...).

As for Ambrosia, I've decided she can't forget me. We made desserts together and I let her dogs lick me. We have at least a year before I'll speculate about boredom on her part.

And Darrin--well, Darrin signed a contract promising to love me forever. I'm not letting him forget it. And he could do much worse when it comes to having a wife. I think he should stick around for a good long time (notice, I'm not asking what he wants--this blog entry is all about me).

Of course, if I could plan everything and have it follow the proscribed course, I would just fall in love with people and they would stay. Tolkien Boy reminds me that's not how life works. And I know that. I just wish it were otherwise. Tolkien Boy reminds me that people drift apart, not because they wish to, but because life happens and sometimes they have to go live it.

I know he's right. But that brings me back to the beginning of this post--why bother in the first place? Okay--I would never give away the parts of my life that have been blessed by others. And I plan to keep the delightful memories I have stored up. But I'd like it better if I didn't have to remember that this is all temporary. Surely there's something better.

Spring

I talked to Tito last night. I was telling him how I feel, personally, that I'm doing really well. He mentioned that my blog seems melancholy for one who is doing so well...

This blog has become an amazing tool for me, especially when it comes to managing symptoms of PTSD. My biggest problem with the disorder is that the feelings and ideas I experience when it is manifesting itself are absolutely real. But my head is telling me the entire time that I'm imagining things--which intensifies any emotions I'm feeling and usually ends up making the ideas even more extreme. The conflict itself adds fuel to the fire until I feel I've lost all control and end up overwhelmed and frustrated. So I've learned that if, when I feel the first nudge of a symptom, I write something--anything, really--that deals with some aspect of the feelings that are stirring about, often I'm able to make it through without the episode becoming full-blown. In short, by addressing it before it happens, I'm often able to navigate what comes in fine form (and if you've never experienced PTSD or anything close to it, you have no idea what I'm talking about, and I'm not able right now to explain, so I apologize for my vagueness).

The real picture is never seen as I spill out the negativity here. Honestly, I feel more whole than I have in a long time, and that feeling increases daily. The amazing thing, to me, is that this process is taking place amidst a period of huge stress. Adam just had surgery, Darrin began a new job a couple of weeks ago and we've seen him a total of about four days in the past couple of weeks--and he won't be home until Friday. My workload has been excessive and I've gotten behind as I deal with Adam, Darrin's absence, DJ's trip to San Francisco, and Tabitha's daily emotional trauma. Nonetheless, I feel very happy with how I continue to heal. I am definitely getting better.

Not long ago, as I left Therapist's office, the twelve-year-old inside me defiantly declared that I would not have PTSD. I was going to overcome it. I knew, of course, when I said it, how silly it sounded. I knew it wasn't true. I knew I was simply protesting something that was not going away. Still, Therapist looked me in the eye and said, "You probably will overcome it. That wouldn't surprise me at all. Be sure you take notes, though. I want this recorded." I thought he was probably making fun of me. He insists that he wasn't. Perhaps it's not an impossibility. Therapist keeps reminding me that I've lived my life beating the odds. He sees no reason for that to stop. When he reminds me of that, I spend about fifteen minutes adoring him for believing in me, and about fifteen days hating him for issuing the challenge.

Yesterday during my run the weather was gorgeous and three butterflies were keeping me company. I stopped running for no particular reason, and spun around until dizziness left me lying in the grass. I looked at the incredibly blue sky, scarred by dark silhouettes of seagulls, a hawk, and tiny songbirds. I looked next to my left shoulder and found one of my butterflies quietly flexing it's wings. As it seemed to be waiting for me, I got up and finished my course, laughing out loud as I ran down a steep, gravelly hill, simply because I could. There is joy in being alive.

Last night at the store

Me: I thought you were going to stay in the electronics while Tabitha and I shop for bras. You said you don't like the lingerie department.
Adam: You should come see the cool shoes I found.
Me: I can't leave Tabitha in the dressing room. She won't know where we are.
Adam: They're the coolest dancing shoes.
Me: What? Why are you shopping for dancing shoes?

(Tabitha returns and gives me a full report about how the four bras she just tried on fit--or don't fit--which is rather comical considering there's not a lot to put inside the bras)

Adam: What does it feel like to wear a bra?
Tabitha: When we get home you can try on one of mine. Then you'll know.
Adam: I don't want to wear a bra.
Tabitha: Trying on is different from wearing.
Adam: I don't want to put on a bra. I just want to know what it feels like.
Tabitha: Well, I can't tell you. It's something you have to experience.

(Adam considers for a moment)

Adam: I guess it's okay if I don't know. Can we go look at the dancing shoes now?
Me: Adam, are you feeling okay?
Adam: Not really, no.
Me: What's going on?
Adam: Well, I have all this energy, but at the same time I kind of feel like I'm going to pass out or puke. And I have all these weird thoughts in my head--like, I'm wondering right now what it would be like to lick that hanger, and my hair feels weird.
Me: Is your ear hurting?
Adam: Oh no. I took a pain pill.
Me: When?
Adam: At dinner. Oh! Look! My hands won't stop shaking! That's kind of funny and scary at the same time.

(Long pause)

Me: Adam, before the one you took at dinner, when did you last take a pain pill?
Adam: About an hour after school.
Me: Which was about an hour before dinner...

(Long pause as Adam puts two and two together)

Adam: I took too many.
Me: Yes.
Adam: Will I die?
Me: No. But I think we'll go home now.
Adam: But you haven't seen my dancing shoes.
Tabitha: No, but when we get home, if you're really good in the car, I'll let you try on my bras.
Me: Tabitha, stop it. This isn't funny.
Tabitha: But you said he wouldn't die.
Me: Okay, let's go now.

(On the way home)

Adam: What's going to happen now?
Me: When we get home I'll call your doctor and see if we have anything to worry about.
Adam: Will he make me go to the hospital?
Me: I don't know. Let's ask the doctor.
Adam: Will they pump my stomach?
Me: I doubt it. That would do no good, considering the pills are no longer there.
Adam: Will they give me shots?
Me: Adam, I don't know. We'll ask the doctor, okay? My guess is that there won't be a problem, you'll just feel odd for about six hours.
Adam: Who's Odd?
Me: What?
Adam: You said I could feel him. (to Tabitha in an undertone: "I'm hilarious.")
Me: Adam, just stop talking, okay.
Adam: I'm really bummed that you didn't come see my dancing shoes. I was wearing them in the shoe department and showing people my moves. They thought I was really good. They laughed a lot.
Me: I'll bet they did.
Adam: What do I have to do when we get home?
Tabitha: Try on bras.
Me: Tabitha, I'm taking the bras back if you don't stop it. Adam, I think you'll go to bed.
Adam: After I eat, right? Because I'm really hungry now.
Me: You said you felt like puking.
Adam: I do. But I also feel like eating. And dancing.
Tabitha: And trying on bras.
Me: Tabitha!
Tabitha: Fine, I'll stop.
Me: I can't wait until we're home.
Tabitha: Me neither. I think we're going to have lots of fun.

Stories

Naturally, stories don't end. They simply shift directions. The interesting ones are those in which history does not repeat itself and the protagonist learns new lessons and skills which propel the journey forward. The most difficult stories are those which allow a story line to repeat, to loop indefinitely. The predictability becomes aggravating and we find ourselves wishing to intervene, to change the outcome, to give the desperately ambivalent character a firm push forward--or a kick in the backside, depending on our emotional involvement.

I received an email not long ago from a person who wanted to make it clear to me that I just needed to stop allowing my personal insecurities, stop questioning the abundant blessings I've been given, trust that everyone in the world loves me and wants me to heal, and get on with my life. Such good advice.

The problem with advice, especially when unsolicited, is that it doesn't help. Obviously, if I keep circling back, I need to learn more about whatever it is I'm returning to. I haven't figured out how to navigate that particular aspect of my life and I need more information. When I began this blog, one of its main purposes was to give me a forum in which to talk about therapy visits and assignments, past memories and issues, emotional distress, and also to provide a place for me to simply vent--something I seem to have difficulty doing out loud. Therefore, if anyone has followed my writing for the past couple of years, no doubt there has been abundant repetition as I try to learn and become whole again. My story has not been set forth to inspire, entertain, or persuade. It simply is. And there won't be a happily ever after, because my life is not over. And I am getting on with my life.

I find myself returning with less frequency to the negative feelings and false beliefs about myself. Occasionally they crop up, especially when my security within a relationship feels threatened. My biggest weakness right now is my feeling that I must not bind myself to anyone. Many friends offer me love and acceptance--but those friends can also withhold love and acceptance from me--so I cannot become comfortable accepting those things.

A series of recent events in my life have caused me to question the one place where I have felt absolutely safe. It no longer feels a haven to me. I fight to remember that trust is essential if I plan to have relationships of any kind. I told Tolkien Boy earlier this week, "I hate trust. A lot." That translates to, "I've been hurt in a place I believed I was always protected. I'm afraid."

So, dear email person, thank you for your concern. I understand that you just want the story to go forward, and you'd like me to be all better. Believe me, I'd like that, too. But life has a way of teaching us lessons through repetition. I have learned in the past two years, that I truly can trust people, that I can have rewarding relationships with people I love and who love me, and that I don't have to keep protecting myself and preparing for hurt. But right now I'm dealing with an experience which has called into question all that I have learned and I have to go back and try again. I'll probably do it several times before I'm dead.

Also, I understand that you've suffered abuse in your life similar to mine and that you've healed and continued beautifully. I envy you. And I'm truly happy for you. But the problem with comparison is that one of us will inevitably end up feeling inadequate, helpless, and frustrated--and it will probably be me. I'm so sorry for the things that were done to you. I'm very grateful that you've found healing. I will continue my circuitous route until I, too, find resolution of the residual effects which permeate so many vital aspects of my life.

In the meantime, if you truly wish to help, these are the things I could use right now:
1. Strength.
2. Rest.
3. Restoration of my belief in human beings.
4. A sunny day.
5. Flowers.
6. A smile.
7. A hug from anyone who loves me--maybe a really long hug and even a kiss on the cheek. DJ usually supplies those for me, and he's in California this week.
8. A pat on the back for trying when I'd really like to quit.
9. A box of tissues and an arm around my shoulder while I cry out the sadness that's suffocating me.
10. A funny joke.

And if you can't supply any of those things, that's okay. Just don't try to write my story for me. That's my job. And even if I'm not doing it you your satisfaction, I think I'm doing just fine. Give me time, I'll be back on track. Even at my age one is allowed occasional setbacks.

Loving Elbow(s)

I don't usually do this, but today I just feel like it.

Someone has been visiting my blog for the past four days and just loading the post of Kermit the Frog singing "I Love My Elbows". I think this is funny. And I kind of want to know who loves the song as much as I do--so, if you ever get past the Muppet post and actually read this one, I'd love it if you said hello.

Also, Elbow, you have to forgive DJ for the comment he aimed at you on my Facebook. He still gets weirded out when he realizes his mom is made of flesh and blood and other people might actually be my friends. And you can say I'm beautiful anytime--because everyone likes that! And I love you, too.

That's all. Just wanted to say hi to the "Elbow" song affectionado (yeah, I just made that word up because I wanted to), and to tell Elbow thanks for his post on my wall.

Update

There's a lot going on right now--so, an update might be in order.

DJ is leaving on a choir tour tomorrow. He'll be back next Tuesday. I miss him already.

Adam had surgery today. The I.V. went in after the fourth attempt and a large sedative. Adam was a complete pill, but the surgery went well. He's deaf for awhile in his left ear, but that should change in the next week. We'll know when the packing is removed.

Tabitha is trying to decide if it's worth it to adopt the snotty Junior High attitude. So far, it hasn't been, but her self-righteousness increases daily. It will be lovely to watch this one finish puberty and go through high school. Her room continues to accumulate "stuff". I have no idea what to do about it. She is the unpredictable, moody, volatile teen that I never was. Good thing she's adorable and sweet in-between the emotional eruptions.

Darrin started a new job this month. He's been travelling for the past three weeks. Between this and his Bishop calling, I rarely see him. Sometimes he comes home at night--sometimes he doesn't. Tonight is one of the "doesn't" nights, as will be tomorrow night. Darrin's trying to get time to come home this weekend. I hope he can. He called me tonight to tell me he missed me. It's good to be missed by someone you love.

I'm okay. I realized last week that I probably will always be okay. When this type of stress occurs in my life I want to shut down and just work. I don't want to talk to anyone--mostly because I have nothing to say. However, because of the things that Therapist and I have talked about pertaining to this, I'm trying to keep talking to people--so if I say hi, but then don't have anything else to add, you'll know that I'm following instructions, but I'm too tired to be entertaining or delightful. But I'm not shutting myself away, and I'm trying not to immerse in work. As a result, I'm running a lot more than I probably should, but we all have our weaknesses, right?

I should sleep. Oh. Yeah. That's another thing thing that's been elusive lately. However, as long as I'm running so much, perhaps I should pursue 40 winks. That made no sense. Welcome to my life.

Guilt

Adam: My English teacher told me she was really upset with me today.
Me: Did she say why?
Adam: Yeah. I'm getting behind in her class and I told her I'd be missing it again this week.
Me: Adam, you don't have any reason to be behind. You've spent lots of time on the computer lately, and the rule is that you're supposed to do homework first.
Adam: Well, it's like tests and stuff that I have to do after school.
Me: So why aren't you taking care of those after school?
Adam: She's been in meetings.
Me: Will you please see if you can arrange to do the make-up in the next couple of days?
Adam: Yeah. I will.
Me: It's not too late? You're sure she'll still let you do it?
Adam: Yeah. She feels really bad now for being upset with me, so she'll let me do pretty much anything.
Me: What? What are you talking about?
Adam: Well, when I told her I'd been absent for doctor's appointments, and showed her the thing in my ear, and told her I had to have surgery, she got all nice and said I could have all the time I needed.
Me: Adam, that's manipulative. You were supposed to tell her about that from the beginning.
Adam: I know. But teachers are nicer when they feel guilty.
Me: You can't do that anymore.
Adam: Is it okay if I keep doing it till the make-up work is done?
Me: No.
Adam: Fine. But just so you know, you're destroying my system.

McDonalds

Adam: I don't want to go to the cast party for the musical tomorrow.
Me: You don't have to go. Why don't you want to?
Adam: There will be grown-ups there. They'll make us do "planned activities."
Me: Like what?
Adam: I don't know. Play frisbee and stuff.
Me: If there weren't "planned activities" what would you do instead?
Adam: I don't know. Play frisbee and stuff, I guess.

Long pause...

Adam: Okay, that's not the reason.
Me: Do you want to tell me the reason?
Adam: I think I might be in trouble.
Me: Why?
Adam: Well, I don't go on stage till the second act, and the first act is one hour long. So when we did the matinee yesterday, I got hungry, so I left and went to McDonalds.
Me: How did you get there?
Adam: On my bike.

Long pause...

Me: I don't even know what to say.
Adam: I guess I'll go to the cast party.
Me: I think you should bring a frisbee or something.

Chess

Adam: Will you play Chess with me?
Me: Why? You hate losing.
Adam: Yeah, but you let me move sixteen times before you kill me.
Me: You've been counting?
Adam: Yup. Sixteen times--then--death.
Me: If you know how many moves I make, then you must know what the moves will be before I make them.
Adam: I can't remember. Besides, you don't do them in order.
Me: Yes, I do.
Adam: Nope. Sometimes you start on one side of the board and sometimes on the other.
Me: But I still do the same moves. The board is a mirror image of itself. And if I do the same moves each time, that means you probably do, as well.

Long pause...

Adam: I'm an idiot.
Me: Not really, no.
Adam: You're doing the same moves on purpose, aren't you. You're hoping I'll figure it out and change the game. That's not fair.
Me: Do you still want to play?
Adam: No. I'm going to play computer chess instead.

Gender roles

Adam: I think I'm going to really disappoint Dad.
Me: Why?
Adam: Well, you know how he feels about cars? I really don't care about them.
Me: I don't think that's going to make him disappointed in you.
Adam: Well, when we're driving down the road and he yells, "Wow! That's a 19-whatever Chevy Cutlass!" and we almost wreck because he stops watching the road--I just don't get it.
Me: It makes me a little nervous, too.
Adam (ignoring me): Do you get it, DJ? Do you love cars?
DJ: Nope. I just want one that will take me where I need to go. Sometimes I like to know what to do if it needs to be fixed--little stuff--but I don't really care what it looks like.
Adam: Yeah. We're both going to disappoint him.
Tabitha: I get it.
Adam: You do?
Tabitha: Yeah. I like working on cars with Dad. I like it when he tells me about them.
DJ: You don't either get it.
Tabitha: Yes, I do.
Adam: You're just saying that.
Tabitha: I'm not either, and for your information, it's a 1979 Oldsmobile Cutlass, not a Chevy.

DJ and Adam stare at each other for a moment.

Adam: She gets it.
DJ: Yeah. We're pretty much screwed.

Tonight I would really like to be someone else--just so I can sleep for awhile

Last night was the first in a very long time that I've had nightmares/flashbacks severe enough to wake my entire family with my screaming. Darrin had to physically shake me awake, and then he tried to hold me while my entire body had tremors for about half an hour. It makes me feel like a freak and I hate it. Darrin admitted to me today that when I do that it scares him. A lot.

And now I feel like even more of a freak.

And I'm afraid to go to sleep tonight, but I'm really tired, and I'm supposed to drive to Denver tomorrow morning. I leave at 6:00 a.m.

Therapist said this will probably never go away.

I hate him tonight for saying that.

Grow up!

Today Darrin told me how DJ's seminary teacher got upset at two of the class members for talking about the possibility of peeing in the baptismal font when they were little boys.

I got in trouble because I giggled when the story was told.

See?

This is why I'm not teaching seminary this year. I just encourage them.

Dear God,

I know I talk to you incessantly. I do take breaks to listen occasionally, but it's really nice to know you don't mind if I tell you all the things I'm embarrassed to talk about to other people, or the things that make me really sad. And sometimes you let me talk about the things that make me angry--even when I know I'm wrong. I appreciate that. But I wanted to write to you tonight. Just a change of venue. I think everyone likes variety.

And speaking of appreciation, I just wanted to thank you for some things in my life. Today, for instance, I sat in the sunshine and it felt wonderful. My pansies and tulips are trying to bloom and the grass is getting greener. I waited until the kids went to school, then I jumped on the trampoline for awhile, just because it feels good. If I do it when they're home, they join me. Then they blame me because they're late for school. So--I wait until they leave now, but truthfully, I like it when they jump with me. I miss them when they're gone.

I'm grateful for Adam. He's been spontaneously trying to clone a human being in his ear and has successfully grown some sort of appendage. The doctors have done some preliminary testing stuff, but have decided it's best to remove the growth before it gets much larger. It's probably a good idea. Although it would be very cool if Adam actually did create the first human clone, his ear canal is not the safest place to incubate it. So, Wednesday he'll have surgery. Adam's not concerned that they'll be removing something from his head, but he's very nervous about having his first I.V. I can't blame him. It does seem scary to know they'll be shoving a tube into his vein. He told me, though, that he wouldn't be as afraid if I'd stay with him. It's nice to know he still likes to have me around.

I'm thankful for hot chocolate--and chocolate chip cookies--and just chocolate. Seriously, nice job when you inspired whoever it was to come up with the heavenly stuff, and just so you know, I'm expecting in the hereafter, chocolate will be no respecter of persons. I believe everyone who has spent time trying to figure out life on earth deserves the good stuff. You can do whatever you'd like with all the exaltation and judging and whatever else, but if I may, I'd like to be the purveyor of really great chocolate. It has nothing to do with wanting to make people happy, but only with my selfish desire to be loved--and who can resist loving someone who brings them chocolate? I know--not necessarily what you were going for when you sent me here to learn, but still, I think even you have to admit that chocolate as a heavenly freebie is a good idea.

I want to thank you for helping me find Therapist. And I'm grateful that I've not seen him for a month--and I'm okay. And it's not because life has been easy--it hasn't. It's because I've worked hard and I'm learning how to live, and you've been with me every step of the way. So I won't see Therapist again until the end of June, and I'll be fine. I might have difficult days. I might be lonely sometimes. I might wish to talk to him--but I can wait until my appointment, and I can probably do it without unloading on AtP or Tolkien Boy or Darrin--which means I'll be talking even more to you, because I have to talk to someone, and you told me you were a good person to discuss things with. But as for Therapist--he was exactly what I needed, and I'm so thankful you brought him into my life.

Thank you for helping me feel again. Not just when I choose to, but real, all the time, feelings. Sometimes I hate it so much--but I recognize it's a good thing. And there are times now, when I feel wonderful emotions. When I laugh with AtP, it's not because I'm masking a whole lot of pain inside, it's because I love him, he's funny, and so am I. It's because I enjoy spending time with him. When I touch Darrin, I feel an almost immediate tenderness now. I don't have to remind myself anymore that he loves me and will never hurt me. I don't have to worry about unbidden flashbacks when we make love. I can hold him and be held by him and enjoy every moment of physical closeness with my very best friend. I can feel a gentle sweetness when I kiss Tolkien Boy on the cheek. I can feel trust and security when I talk with Jason about things that frighten me. I can feel genuine love and peace when I meet new friends. I can finally feel and express the things I feel.

I thought once that if I stopped fighting, if I gave up, everyone would forget what happened to me, it would be diminished and made less important, and those who had abused me would win. I realize now that I'm wearing myself out in a battle no one remembers anyway, and it really only matters to me. So--I'd like you to take it over for me. Please. I'm so tired, and there's no payoff worth the fight. I believe you'll continue to care for me, you'll help me become strong again, and you'll always care that I was hurt--but you'll help me learn to focus on the things which truly matter--the ones which will make me better, not bitter. I'm giving you everything I've fought for. I trust that you'll take my place, end the battle, and bring me peace.

I'm thankful for you. I appreciate you sticking around when I was angry at you. I know I was ungrateful much of the time, and I often chose to do things which did not invite you to stay. I know many times you reached out to me and I pushed you away. Thank you for coming back again and again. Thank you for not giving up on me. Thank you for sending me people to help me hear the message you've sent to me all my life--that you love me, and I'm important to you. I love you. Thank you for loving me.

That's all I guess. You know, of course, I have so much more to say, and I'll be talking to you very soon. These are only a few of the things I'm thankful for, but I have to go to bed. Mortals have to sleep you know--oh, speaking of which, would it be okay if I have a whole bunch of nights like the last few have been? No nightmares? Because I like it a lot, and I've worked really hard to learn how to control my dreams, but I do need a little help from you. It's not an easy thing, and lately it's been nice to just relax and let sleep come. Watch over me? Help me out with this? Please?

Okay, I'll talk to you later.

Love,
Sam

Uncharted Territory

Of course, I've encountered this every day throughout my life. But somehow it's always been on my terms and within my own parameters. I have no idea what I mean by that.

I suppose I mean that I deal with new and unusual situations all the time, externally. I, myself, have not changed.

So now I must acknowledge that I am different.

Last night I slept--really slept. I woke up without experiencing even the beginning of a nightmare/flashback. I had no ghost pains lingering from memories of being raped. I felt rested and at the same time, as if I could sleep more, and I did not feel trepidation when I thought about going back to sleep--so I did. I slept until 6:30 this morning. I never sleep so late.

As I feel stronger I am deeply grateful that I worked as I did to free myself from the agony and fear I have refused to acknowledge for most of my life. I also experience overwhelming impulses and emotions I don't always expect. Often I find myself wishing I had no ties--no family, no husband, no friends, no children. This is not because I don't love those people who are part of my life, but rather a feeling that I am becoming strong and independent enough that I don't need anyone.

Of course, this is a false impulse. I do have a need for those I love, but it's not unhealthy or crippling in it's manifestation. As I have come to understand this need, it's more of an emotional nurturing we give to one another. It is an assurance that we care for one another, we won't manipulate or betray, we try to foster trust, and we will respect, honor and protect any vulnerability one of us chooses to share with the other. With the exception of Darrin, I have not allowed relationships which included the above mentioned attributes into my life until the past two years. In allowing myself to accept others, to trust them, to truly be authentic with them, I am wallowing in uncharted territory. It has been exhilarating, beautiful, and frightening beyond expression.

I've finally made it beyond the place where I contemplate isolating myself, running from my attempts at friendship, living in insecurity and fear. I suppose all this is a process of coming to understand that every human (even me) is entitled to many different kinds and sources of love and affection. At any rate, I now understand my emotional desires for friendship, fellowship and human acceptance. I no longer view those as weaknesses, but rather an integral part of who I am--a part I have starved for the majority of my life, accepting love from and being emotionally honest only with Darrin. In truth, every person needs more than one with whom they can share different aspects of themselves. It is not weakness that dictates this, and only those who are truly strong make it to the point where they become secure in expecting and accepting emotional intimacy from those they love.

When Tolkien Boy and I were watching the ducks a few weeks ago, I had asked him a question and he was attempting to answer it. I heard his voice and registered a few of his words, but in truth, I have no idea what he said. I was exhausted mentally, emotionally, and physically. I had foreseen that Darrin was heading for a sort of breakdown, I was frightened at the prospect of losing my greatest source of strength and support, and I was worried about his ability to cope with his emotional stress. I was contemplating my life without the constant struggle which had shaped nearly every aspect of it--and while this should have brought me joy and relief, instead it was stressful and frustrating.

So TB was explaining one of my life's greatest mysteries, and I missed it. The setting for the explanation was ideal: a park bench in front of a quiet lake filled with the affable noises of ducks and geese, few people, and a small stretch of uninterrupted time. Had my head and my heart been at peace, I think I would have heard, been enlightened, and left the spot as the earth's wisest person. As it was, I ended up listening to the turmoil inside, wishing I could understand what TB was saying, and wondering what I would do with my newly discovered internal uncharted territory.

One good thing about all that--I wasn't alone. Normally I tackle all this awful emotional stuff when I'm by myself, so no one gets to see the mess it makes me. AtP and Sully have both seen a tiny bit of it--the part where I rant uncontrollably, look like I might laugh hysterically or weep for hours, and lose the ability to drive my car. And now, TB has witnessed me in my emotionally messed up glory sans the hysterical laughter and eternal tears. Darrin, fortunately, is the only person who has experienced the entire scope of the emotional Hurricane Samantha.

Therapist asked if, in my mind, I had resolved and accepted the aspects of my past experiences of rape and abuse, or if there were more "tasks" I believed necessary. I told him I was finished, but I'm not. There remains one thing--and it may never happen. One day...someday...I would like someone to cry with me, to acknowledge that the things I was asked to endure were unfair and frightening, painful and sad. Someone who will shed tears not only for me, but with me. For the first time in my life I am acknowledging that I no longer wish to grieve alone.

Quiet

As my life has unfolded in the past few weeks, I find myself filled with words I am unable to say. There is nothing frightening, overwhelming or unworthy in the unexpressed thoughts, I simply wonder what my intent would be in speaking. For so long each post has had a thrust and purpose--I knew exactly why the sentences were written and there was a sense of intense relief as I published them.

Recently I wrote of the feeling that my life was circling back to where it began two years ago. That feeling still seethes and surprises me when I least expect it. The raw expressing of feelings, memories, and hopes are not typical of me. Those who have only known me in this venue would not recognize the person who used to listen intently as others spoke, commenting just enough to keep the conversation flowing and always steering it away from herself. The impulse to do so once again becomes stronger each day.

Not that I believe there is any fault to be found in a good listener. The problem, I suppose is that I hide myself within another's need to be heard. It is very comfortable to disappear in the words of someone who wishes to become known.

For a little while I longed to be that person--to shout my story to any who would listen--to force people to notice me--to stand up and be counted. To that end I wrote daily, hiding little. I am wondering now exactly what I hoped would be gained by my exhibitionism.

Today, especially as I wonder what Darrin will ultimately choose, I feel muteness stretch inside me. I no longer wish to express my feelings, talk about my life, laugh spontaneously. I still wish for a quiet place--for a sheltering arm--I suppose, ultimately, I will never outgrow the desire for someone to step in and take away the things that scare or hurt me. I am not, nor have I ever been as strong as I would like to believe I am.

I am not unhappy. But I wonder sometimes, as the feelings engulf me, if I will ever again wish to talk about them. And if I choose to, I wonder who will listen. And if someone is listening, I wonder if it will simply be so that he might hide within my words, avoiding connection with humanity, just quietly allowing the monologue to wash over him, grateful that he remains unknown.

I understand that.

Deliberately Vague

I suppose that's what I was being when I wrote my last, now invisible, post. The truth is that there are quite a few things that have happened in the past few weeks which have made me more than a little uncomfortable. I've felt I couldn't say much because they involved someone else, and I didn't want to talk about things that were personal to him, regardless of how they affected me. Every once in awhile, though, I just feel I have to let off some steam, so I write a post (such as the one I wrote yesterday) which is meaningful to me, but might not blatantly speak of what is happening.

In the process of writing, and of talking to a couple of people, I realized that what I'm going through is not shaming or embarrassing, but it is certainly worrisome. To be blunt, for the majority of our married life, Darrin has supported me through many things. The last two years of therapy have been the longest lasting and most emotionally draining. As I have become stronger, he has finally allowed me to see the toll it has taken on him. He was the focus of my last post.

A few people commented or emailed, assuming I was speaking of someone else. Naturally, this is what I intended, sort of, because I didn't want to place Darrin in an awkward position. However, it's also misleading and a bit dishonest. So--the truth is that in all my relationships there are times of uncertainty and sometimes a bit of heartache, so it was easy to insert those in the post, but right now Darrin is having some difficulty navigating his place in life. In my efforts to overcome past habits and obsessions, I have shifted the paradigms which have been in place for many years. Because our lives are linked, this affects Darrin intensely.

Anyone who has been through a deeply emotional experience with a loved one understands how it can allow insecurity to creep into the relationship. Darrin has felt that, certainly. Interestingly, I have not. As my perceptions about myself and my situation have changed, my love and gratitude for Darrin have increased--but also, my intense need for him has evolved into more of a steady desire for his companionship and love. I believe we both agree this is a healthier alternative, but it changes Darrin's role in my life--and it was done without his agreement or involvement which makes the change seem extreme.

So I would ask those of you who follow my blog to include Darrin in your prayers at this time. He will not welcome chat or email, as he is still in the stages of trying to figure out what is happening, and those will only cause more anxiety. He will be concerned that others are aware of his confusion and will concentrate on that, rather than allowing himself to work through the new aspects of his life. So, for now, good thoughts/vibes/candles on the altar/whatever will be enough. Out of respect for Darrin's privacy, I probably won't update more about this, but will allow him to do so if he chooses to--and if he's more comfortable saying nothing, that is also his decision.

I apologize for the misleading words I posted previously. Please know that your comments, all of them, were received in the spirit they were offered, and I love you for caring enough to say something.

Being Samantha

(Warning: this is one of those posts in which I will say whatever I want. Some of what I say could be crass or ugly or uncomfortable. Yeah--just like always...)

I have a number of things to say today, the first of which is that at some point I have to figure out that triple chocolate cookies for breakfast, regardless of how delicious, do not provide adequate nutrition for the most important meal of the day. Fortunately, I choose to indulge after my children leave for school, having inside them a meal consisting of complex carbohydrates, vitamins and minerals, and at least 5 grams of fiber, vitamin D fortified milk (or calcium enriched rice milk, or lowfat yogurt), and 100% orange or grapefruit juice. Never let it be said that my children do not eat healthy meals. Moving on...

The next thing I want to talk about has no magical moment in which it came about, but rather has been approaching for a very long time. I'm not sure I'll even be able to describe it adequately, but I will definitely make the attempt because, for me, this is rather important. You see, I've finally made it. Really. Not sort of almost there and tomorrow I'll be in despair again because my life is not what I want it to be. I'm there. I am me.

I'm understanding that there is a lot to me, much of which I have yet to discover, but I am finally comfortable in my own skin. In my super secret blog I remember writing a year ago, following my meeting with the cousin who abused me:

Monday, March 19, 2007

I want to be clean. There is a desperate compulsion to scrub myself forever. I know I can't. I want to.

There have been times when I have found clippers and snipped away bits of me. The bleeding and pain don't seem to register. I know they're there. I'm not stupid.

I thought when I saw him that he would be normal--that the filth which seems embedded in me would be unreasonable--that I would be able to move past this. It wasn't so. It feels worse.

My sweet friend held me. I feel terribly guilty about that. He has touched that which is unclean.

My wonderful husband touches me. I want him to. I don't want him to. I am the evil gift.

I have looked at the face of the person who made me broken.

I want to remove my skin.

I post this, not because I want to share the misery I felt last year, but because I don't feel that way any longer. The agony and uncleanness I felt then were absolutely real. They permeated every part of my life. They kept me from forming real relationships with people--I would cling desperately, then push away with all my might because I loved my friends and family and I didn't want to taint them in any way. All that is gone.

I am finally realizing what it is to be me. Today I have felt, without reservation, gratitude that I was born. That has not happened before in my memory. And so, I am listing what it is that makes me happy to be me:
1. I see beauty--in my surroundings, in words and music, in people. I always have--even when I could not see it in myself. If I love you, you are one of the most beautiful people in the world. I see it in your eyes, your actions, your words. I have always seen beauty (even in the mudguys lying on the road--come on! you have to admit he was stunning!).
2. I make music--in all that has happened to me, I have never stopped singing. I have pursued my ability and obtained undergraduate and graduate degrees in piano performance, and theory and composition. On Mother's Day I will perform an ensemble concert with three friends (one of whom is a former student)--our page turners will be my sweet son, DJ and wonderful friend, Sully. You should come. It will be worth it.
3. I love people--even though for most of my life my instinct was to never allow myself to love, I could not help it. Love seems to just happen in my life and I am powerless against it. I used to view that as a weakness, one that would eventually destroy me. I now view it as one of my greatest strengths and the key reason that I have become the person I am. I used to hope that my love could change situations, people, me...I guess I thought that somehow it was magic...Now I realize that if it changes no one else, it changes me daily for the better. I can never stop loving people.
4. I laugh--sometimes inappropriately, but we all have our weaknesses, right? Life has always seemed to bring me joy and laughter. Someone said to me once that if she had met the challenges I have, she would have taken her own life. I will admit to seriously considering that route and even attempting it on occasion. But life is so beautiful and mine has had so much joy to balance the pain. I want to stay forever, running every morning, smelling the flowers on my dining room table, watching the wildflowers bloom on the prairie, planting my haphazard herb/flower/tomato garden, playing with my children and friends, loving my husband, serving my God. And through it all, I will laugh because it makes me feel wonderful--and because life truly is very funny.
5. I learn--I have always been curious. I someday want to know everything. Tolkien Boy has complained that sometimes he feels he is more of a "project" than a friend. I can't help it--I ask him (and everyone else in my life) questions about life, food, feelings, illness, humor, literature, fantasy, mathematics...it's not that I believe they have all the answers, but they have their answers and I learn from their perspectives. I want to know how they think, what they feel, who they are inside. My questions are my way to understand what makes you the person you are--and I'm sorry if they sometimes seem calculated or insensitive, because that's not my intention. I just get a little bit focused on finding things out and forget that we're discussing things that might make you uncomfortable. In the end though, my entire goal is to help me know you in unique ways, so I hope you'll forgive me, and indulge me. Let me learn about you.

I suppose what I'm saying is this: There have been things in my life that I would give away in an instant. I don't want them anymore. At one point I clung to them because I was unsure what would happen if I no longer had them. That was scary. Today, I realize they make me less of who I truly am. They were inflicted upon me. I did not choose them. I will not choose them today. I will not forget what happened. I will not forget the pain they have caused. I will not forget because I want to be sure I do all I can to keep those events from occurring in the lives of my children and loved ones. But remembering does not mean I must agonize, or believe I am less of a person for enduring them.

What I will say now will have significance only to me, and to those who believe as I do. But I must say this because it is important to me. I did it. For two years I worked through all that was necessary so that I would be able to kneel before my Savior and allow him to lift my burden. I was humbled in many ways so that I would be able to acknowledge his sacrifice for me, and accept it with gratitude. I worked--please do not misunderstand and think this was easy, for it was not--to place myself in a position emotionally and mentally where I could be healed.

And so today I can say that my life is better--I am better. I can't explain all that has happened, but it was very real. The Atonement is a phenomenon that defies explanation, and yet is simple enough for mere mortals to apply it in their lives (although, if you're anything like me, it might take a few years). I will add that much of the workings of the Atonement came through the love and care of people who wished to help me, who reached out when I desperately needed support, and who stayed when I was less than accommodating. I don't know what motivated them to lend support--but I will always be grateful, and I believe Christ is grateful to them, as well. For he said, "Inasmuch as ye have done it unto one of the least of these (that would be me) my brethren, ye have done it unto me."

I am Samantha. I believe that's a pretty good thing to be. It took me a long time to get here. I think I'll stay awhile.

Roll credits.

Things that make me late

Today when I was walking to work I saw a piece of mud with tire tread mark that looked like a stick figure guy.

Apparently, taking time to enjoy that sight is not a good reason to be late for rehearsal.

Changing, Working, Friends and Ducks

So here's the thing:

Three years ago I began preparation to step out of my comfort zone so that I would be able to do whatever was necessary to make my life tolerable again.

I worked very, very hard.

I looked at crappy, awful things.

I asked questions, researched, talked, prayed, screamed, cried, reached out, and ended up accepting help, guidance, and life as it is.

And now--I'm not finished, but I think I've come about as far as I can.

The problem is that I have an overwhelming desire to return to life as I knew it prior to the recent upheaval. It was structured, predictable, joyful, and fulfilling. Some have argued with me that I believe it was so when it actually was lacking in many areas. I'm not disagreeing, but I truly was happy. I had made for myself a really wonderful life with a husband and children who loved me, I had built a couple of successful businesses and I ran my home with ease. It was very nice. I liked it.

Tolkien Boy says that even if I try, I can't really go back.

And if I try it will mean a retreat from the relationships I've built with some very sweet friends. That wouldn't be good for me.

I think, maybe, I'm just recognizing how tired I am, and I'm looking for a place that's safe so I can rest. Because doing that emotional work in such a short time frame has made me feel exhausted--did you notice, AtP? I didn't wear us out this time--I probably haven't had the energy to make you tired for almost a year now. And I don't know why I'm talking to you, because you don't even read my blog, but I want to anyway.

So I spent an afternoon with Tolkien Boy this week. And I wasn't fun or entertaining. I think, mostly, I just sat next to him and watched the ducks at the pond we were supposed to be walking around. I felt very tired, and quiet, and a little bit overwhelmed by not knowing what to do next.

I had planned to go see Ambrosia and Bawb, but my sister called and asked me to spend a night at her house and visit with her. So I did. But I fell asleep while she was talking with me.

I met a few friends who read my blog. It was delightful--you are delightful. Forgive me if I was tired?

I have always felt that I had endless energy, that I could do whatever I chose, that I would wake up ready to conquer the world each day. Now, I sort of just want someone to hold me and tell me it's okay to rest--someone who will keep any bad things from happening while I become strong enough to do that for myself.

I sound like I'm twelve again.

I forgot to discuss this with Therapist. That was stupid.

He is Risen

Two years ago I sat with my counselor and discussed many things that were hurting me. She gave me some writing exercises to do, empathized with my situation and told me that it was time to give my burden to Christ and allow myself to heal. Quite frankly, I agreed with her, but when I made the attempt to apply the atonement in my life I hit a brick wall.

I made numerous attempts to access the faith that had kept me from falling apart through many years. But each time I knelt to discuss the problem with the Lord, I found myself saying, "I don't know how this works. Help me? Please?"

The answer did not come immediately. I had some hurdles to leap.

The first obstacle came when I admitted to myself that I was still pretty upset that God had watched as I was abused and raped. It distressed me horribly to know that the one who supposedly loved me more than any other, allowed that to happen. And he let me ache with loneliness, pain, and fear when I was too young to understand why a person would hurt me so badly. I was very angry that the premise seemed to be that I was required to endure the emotional and physical pains--but then turn to God Omnipotent to be healed. If he was so omnipotent, why did an innocent little girl have to be hurt in the first place? It took some time for me to work through that anger. I still don't have all the answers, but I emerged, certain that I had been protected more than I understood, that I had never truly been left alone, and that I was loved by Heavenly Father and Jesus Christ. And on some level I believe that my pain reached them and they wept for me. I'm sure I just believe this because a part of me yearns for some measure of sympathy--for now, I need to believe it, regardless of whether or not it's true. I know if I could not take away from my daughter a similar pain, I would cry with her--I would cry for her. It's a human thing, but also a parent thing, and is God not my Father? I need to believe that he was not unaffected when I was hurt.

The second obstacle is something that still bothers me. I felt my own pain--obviously. To know that Christ took upon him that pain seemed appalling. To know that he could know how my body shook because it was being used in a way that was inappropriate, to know he could feel my desperate desire to be held by someone who would not hurt me, my need to be kept safe, my hope that someone--anyone--would save me, made me hurt all over again. I cried with frustration as I realized that in Gethsemane, nearly 2000 years before the event actually happened, Christ, whom I love with all my heart, went through each moment of the things that nearly broke me. It seemed pointless that both of us should have to endure that. And knowing exactly how everything felt, I wept again that he should have to feel those things. I was horrified. And yet, if I believed in the atonement, Christ could not heal me unless he knew exactly what was wrong--and the only way he could know was to feel what I felt. It was very difficult for me to accept this, and I'm certain I'm not explaining what I went through very well because I still have trouble contemplating all that this obstacle represents.

The third obstacle was simply that I wasn't ready. There were more things to sift through, more experiences I needed to understand, more.... It seemed no matter how much crap I uncovered, there was another layer underneath and it was impossible for me to allow healing until I had examined each wound in depth. I had to understand exactly what had happened. I don't know why I felt this compulsion. I've known others who have felt relief simply by allowing themselves to acknowledge in a very general way, that something took place which should not have happened. They don't have to research or ask questions. They just accept reality, work through the sadness, grieve, and find peace. I have to dig about, look at every angle, think for awhile, release all my expectations that I'm magic and can change everything. Even then, sometimes I have to repeat the process a few times. As long as I'm in that mode, allowing someone else access to my problems is impossible.

The fourth obstacle was that I could not accept reality. I wanted to change things. I wanted to have some magic reunion with my mother in which she told me I was the daughter she had always wanted. I wished to somehow make it so my cousin had never raped me. I wanted to make all the bad things go away. When I finally began to realize it wasn't going to happen, I felt that everything I had done was pointless. Nothing seemed to matter--least of all the intervention of Christ's atonement. If I couldn't have what I wanted, nothing else would make me happy.

One day, not too long ago, I took a step back and began to count my miracles:
1. My mother is still in my life. She loves me. She doesn't feel a mother/daughter bond, but we're friends. She shows me concern and support. She tries to bridge the gap between us, even as I do. Our goals are different--but still, we're trying. And I know she holds me in high esteem. She has often expressed that.
2. I met Darrin. He loved me in spite of all that was wrong with me. He saw the things that were right with me. He has never gone away from me physically, or emotionally. He has been at my side for more than half my life. I have never doubted his love for me. I thought that one day he'd get tired of me and leave--but I still believed he loved me, and I don't think anymore, that he's planning an exit. I think he wants to stay with me. Maybe it's because I'm cute and funny. Or maybe it's because he can somehow see the person I wish I could be--and he has faith that I'll get there someday.
3. I lived. There were many, many times as a teenager that I wished to die. There were moments when I planned my death and tried to bring it to pass. Each time I walked away. There was a greater need to continue my life--I was just too stubborn to die. And I suppose I have to acknowledge that somewhere inside me I was sure that if I kept searching for answers I would find them, and that someday someone would love me--perhaps even save me.
4. I spent years being strengthened by my Heavenly Father. He led me step by step to the places where I could learn and grow. He blessed me with children who have taught me many things. He helped me find faith. He let me know how very much he loved me.
5. When the time was right, I sought help to deal with the things that I had buried. I was led, not immediately, but through trial and error, to Therapist, who has been astute enough to know exactly how to help me proceed. And even when he left, a way was made for me to continue seeing him until such time as I no longer had a need.
6. I have never been alone. I have been blessed with countless friends, well-wishers, interested parties--whatever. Some have been extremely close to me, offering me daily love, sometimes a much needed hug, or just a listening ear. I've had opportunity to realize that I can be of importance in the lives of others. I can't begin to count the hours given by people who are concerned about me. I have no way to thank them, but I will always be grateful.

There are so many more miracles. I could never list them all. But in the midst of understanding how God has worked in my life, I have also realized something else. More than once people who love me have commented how they wished I had not had to endure what happened to me. They have expressed a desire to ease my pain. On that subject I once had this conversation:

me: In the past, when I've been next to you, my insides feel as though they just relax.
TB: How did it feel?
me: Glorious. It feels as though I'm loved and protected, with nothing expected in return. Does that make sense? This is making me cry. Yuck.
TB: It makes sense. And it's all right to cry.
me: Tolkien Boy, I don't want to need that. I want to be strong--to be able to protect myself without anyone helping. And deep inside I also know there's a part of me that will always want to feel that someone else cares and is watching out for me--even if that feeling isn't authentic in the one from whom I've receiving it.
TB: Sam, you are perfectly capable of being strong. What you need is to allow yourself the ability to feel that it's all right to let go of being strong for a while.
me: That's what I'm doing, isn't it? When everything relaxes? I'm pretending someone else (you) is taking care of me for a moment while I rest?
TB: You're not pretending, though. You're letting it happen.
me: It's real?
TB: Yes, it's real.
me: Thank you. That's something I've been trying to understand.

In moments such as these I understand on the most basic level that Christ felt what I felt because if all people were to be allowed agency, he could not interfere. Even if it was possible to stop what happened to me, he would not because he loves each person enough to allow them to choose whatever they will. And so, because the bad things happen, Christ endured the agony along with us, so that when we were ready, we could turn to him and allow him to hold us, let all the tension and anger relax, and just for a moment, let him take care of us while we rest. Sometimes it takes a human representation of that for me to understand. But the bottom line is that Jesus Christ loves me. I'm certain that if he could have chosen the events of my life, it would have played out differently--but he couldn't, so he does what he can to help me through. And in the process I learn to trust him, to believe that one day all will be put right, to have faith that I can allow the things that have hurt me to come to rest.

Today is Easter. The events celebrated on this day are deeply significant to me. Because my Savior chose to accept the responsibility of the atonement, I have hope that I can one day understand how to allow that act to work a miracle in my heart. I have faith that soon I will allow him to hold me close, to let the things that have worried my spirit relax, to trust that he will love and protect me in any way possible.

Jesus Christ died that we might live--temporally and spiritually. As I learn more, and I experience love from others, as I recognize the strength inside me, I see his hand in my life and I am overwhelmed. He has asked me to come--step by step, I am trying. He has asked me to follow him--after treading many different paths I have come to realize that his is the only one which brings me peace. He has asked me to learn of him--I intend to continue doing that for the rest of my life.

Happy Easter. On this day, I wish you peace.

Okay--here it is!

I've been talking about this for over a year now, and it's looming ever closer.

THE BOLDER BOULDER

Now, I know not everyone runs, but I still think you should join me. We can be in the 90-100 minute jog/walk wave. There are also walk/jog and walking waves, but I think everyone is younger than I am and you can keep up with me. So far DJ, AtP and Sully have agreed to wear my proposed team shirt:



Well, truthfully, Sully hasn't said he will, but I know he'll say yes and it will look stunning on him.

However, the shirt isn't mandatory, and if you believe it will emasculate you, you can choose another.

Just come.

Run with me...

It will be so much fun....

Magnets

When I visited Ambrosia and Bawb last weekend, AtP and I spent a few minutes looking at the pictures on the fridge, and I noticed they had credit card magnets. Apparently, when credit card companies solicit Ambrosia (and AtP, too), they send useful magnets--not the stupid pretend plastic cards I always receive which are good for nothing except to use when marking scriptures. They make great straight-liners (not a word...don't care...).

But...

Today I received my first credit card solicitation magnet. So my fridge is almost as cool as Ambrosia's and Bawb's. I can now visit them without feeling I am a magnet underling.

I love it when my status elevates.

Simon's Cat 'Cat Man Do'

Simon's Cat 'Let Me In!'

How quickly we forget

I'm now in my third week of feeling that my life is normal once again. I read some of what I posted on my super-secret blog (which basically consists of me screaming because I felt like I was losing my mind), and I wonder why I felt that way. I can't imagine me as the insecure, clinging, weak idiot who wrote those words--but I know I was. Part of me is simply mystified that I could ever feel such needs, be so weak, worry that someone might not love me. Part of me understands that many of those feelings and impulses are left over from when I was a pre-teen, and I pushed them aside so that I could cope with the unusual situations in which I found myself. Now that I'm older, stronger, and my support system is much better, I believe I allowed myself to finally work through those feelings.

I suppose, in my heart, I still ache a little because the "situations" happened in the first place. There is a part of me that fights against complete acceptance--a part that says it wasn't right or fair in any sense of those words, and that I deserved better, not because I'm special, but simply because children should not have to deal with rape and abuse--ever. I will believe that until I die.

But there is also a sense of calm that tells me I'm okay. I don't have to accept all of it. It shouldn't have happened. But I can mourn the acts and continue forward. I spoke with a friend at the outset of my decision to seek counseling a couple of years ago. She said she had experienced some abuse in her life and that she felt completely healed. There were no scars. For a long time, I hoped that would be my outcome. At this point I have to acknowledge that her experience was not mine--and I may never feel, as she does today, that it is as if it never happened. As I would never wish others to compare their experiences with mine for the purpose of progress or judgment, neither should I compare my experiences with others. My life is my own.

If you have followed my writing for the past couple of years, I hope you have recognized that when I was weak, I was simply tired. It's exhausting to feel emotions that have been simmering for many years. It's daunting to recognize that one's past really was frightening and horrible. It's miserable to have to live through the reality, and then repeatedly flash back through the memories, years later. I'm not sure I was ready for all the nastiness I encountered. I am so grateful I did not have to walk alone as I worked through everything.

If there have been times when I seemed disappointed or discouraged at trivialities--when I gave in to coping habits that did not help me--when I wasn't brave or strong or courageous, I hope anyone who loves me will understand that this is who I am. I'm human. I'm often overwhelmed by things I don't understand, I have never been brave, there will always be times when my choices are not the best.

I am also one who seeks out beauty. I always have. I'm entranced by the color of a flower, the majestic strength of a thunderstorm, the smell of something wonderful baking, ice crystals in the air... but more than that, I am often speechless as I consider the beauty and strength I find in my spouse, children, and wonderful friends. To see inside--to really know someone--to feel humbled because they have allowed me to come close enough to look--that is true beauty.

After all is said and done, when I have forgotten the pain of experience and memory, there will still be beauty, and, with luck, love for me.

Progress Report

Tomorrow I see Therapist, with whom I am forever in love.

I feel that my life belongs to me once again. I've come to the end of some of the contracts I accepted so that I wouldn't have to think about anything but work--and I've not replaced them. I'm becoming integrated in Darrin's ward. I attend Sacrament Meeting in my ward, then go to his for two meetings, then back to mine to accompany the choir, thus, giving the illusion of being in two places at once (who says I'm not magic?!). I'm not spending more time with my family, but I'm with them when we're together now, mentally and emotionally.

For me, knowing things are better means not caring--and I mean that in a positive way. I don't care what's happening in my cousin's life--it belongs to him. I don't care if my mother can never see me as a daughter--I am her daughter, I will live with the situation. There are also lots of "it's okay" parts that make me feel better, as well. It's okay if I take time off work--I'll make it up--I always do. It's okay if I have trouble eating--I'll try again tomorrow. It's okay if I'm sad by myself--sometimes that happens. It's okay if friendships wane or even cease--what a blessing that they happened in the first place. And, in conjunction with that, it's okay if I miss people, even if they don't miss me. It doesn't make me weak, it just means I care about them and I wish things were different--and that's okay, too.

I mentioned my huge accomplishment (it may not have seemed huge, but it was) in being able to manage PTSD symptoms lately. Other things have happened, as well:
1. I made an appointment for a physical. I think I might be able to keep this one, but it's not for about eight weeks, so I'm a little nervous. However, that also gives me time to think of ways to talk to my doctor before the examination. I'm convinced that I need to give her the information she needs so I'm not reacting in ways she doesn't understand.
2. I talked to a new friend last night and told him my background. I rarely do that. I told him in much nicer terms than those I used with Tolkien Boy, but I remember thinking after I let Tolkien Boy know everything that had been done to me, that I would never hear from him again--and I was actually okay with that. I was very surprised when he came back to talk to me the next day. I realize now that if someone is scared off because I was mistreated as a child, that person is probably not someone I need in my life. Anyway, I didn't feel overwhelmed or frightened as I shared this information (it came up because he asked where he would find my blog--I felt a bit of background might help him decide whether or not he really wanted to visit).
3. I don't feel I need to tell my story anymore. Unfortunately, it mirrors that of too many young girls and boys and no doubt needs to be shared, but not by me. My purpose was to stop hiding from the things that had hurt me, and to allow those things to become known. I made them known online, within my family, and with a few selected friends. I will share my experiences if I feel it is appropriate, but I believe it's time for me to rest from that effort right now. My goal was to talk about it until my shame was gone, my grief was spent, and I became comfortable being the person I am--and that includes the sad parts of me, as well as the joyful ones. I have accomplished my goal. I'm okay being me.

I think I will ask to see Therapist one more time in the next couple of weeks--just to make sure everything is staying in place--and then I will begin to let go of the man I've been in love with for a couple of years. I suppose, as much as anything else, love is truly about letting go.

Quiet and Ready Enough

If we will be quiet and ready enough, we shall find compensation in every disappointment.
~Henry David Thoreau

But...

Sometimes we don't really wish for compensation. We want to rage and cry. We want to fantasize that the disappointment never happened, or that we can make it go away. We want to be held and comforted, but never pitied. We want to forget.

But...

After years of trying the other things...weeping...feeling used...wishing life was different...wanting what I cannot have...silently screaming...

I am finally quiet.

But...

I'm not sure I'm ready quite yet to look for the compensation within the disappointment. I think, for a moment, I'll just let everything rest. Tomorrow I'll have the strength to acknowledge my blessings with gratitude. Just...not today.

TMI--there! You're warned!

For most of my life I have felt hatred toward my body. Therapist believes it's how I coped for so long in a seemingly "normal" capacity. I channeled all the negative feelings about being raped and abused and associated them with my body. In essence, my body was responsible for everything bad that had happened. If I had not had a body, it could not be abused. Makes complete sense, right?

I've never believed Darrin when he paid me complements about my physical appearance. I just thought he had very bad taste. Someone once asked me what I saw when I look in the mirror. Truthfully, I've never really thought about it. I've never analyzed if I was physically attractive--I don't think I've ever cared.

For about ten years I was an avid body builder. I told my family I did it because I liked feeling strong and healthy. In truth, I believe I did it because if anyone ever attempted to hurt me, I wanted to be sure I could defend myself.

Clothing has often been an issue to me. I have never been comfortable wearing anything form fitting or even slightly revealing. It was not unusual to see me in long pants all summer long and rare to see any part of my chest exposed. I always dressed in clothing at least two sizes larger than I actually wore. I think I did this because I thought it made me look bigger, and also because I was hiding the body that betrayed me.

Things have been changing for me, however. Tabitha told me two years ago that she thought I should let her choose my clothes. I was in need of some new ones--and I certainly didn't care what I wore--so we went shopping. We came home with a new wardrobe for Mom. Some of the clothes I didn't wear for a few months, because I just couldn't get used to how I looked in them. Some I wore one time, but not again because a man commented on the outfit, or about my looks--unacceptable. Eventually, though, I became used to wearing things that fit.

Tolkien Boy told me after he met me the first time that I "dressed very youthfully." Well, I suppose that can't be avoided when one's daughter is choosing the wardrobe. But I noticed last year that I lived in shorts and capri pants all summer long, and DJ told me some of my shirts have "cleavage peeks". That would never have happened five years ago when my wardrobe consisted mainly of t-shirts, sweatshirts and jeans.

Honestly, over the past two years I've been able to view my body in a rational light. It's pretty amazing. I've put more than 1500 miles on it every year--literally, and it still works wonderfully. It's borne me three children. It's rarely ill. Its total cholesterol is 118. And some of my good friends tell me it's very lovely. And Darrin tells me, after all these years, it's as beautiful as it's ever been.

I think I stopped feeling that I hated my body about nine months ago. At that point I started being very grateful for it. In spite of the horrific trauma it was put through--my body still works.

I'm winning

After spending nearly a year trying to figure out how to recognize and combat the symptoms of PTSD, I think I'm finally figuring things out. During the past ten days I've experienced several bouts of feelings that usually end up overwhelming me. My normal reaction is to say stupid things, or isolate myself, or assume that isolation is unnecessary because everyone will leave me anyway. This time however, I was finally able to:
1. Notice the feelings when they were still forming.
2. Recognize that they had no basis and were stemming from fatigue or stress.
3. Take the time necessary to acknowledge the feelings without allowing them to escalate.
4. Have patience while waiting for the feelings to run their course.
5. Get adequate sleep and exercise.

Amazingly, even though I've had a few days when I've felt down (it's not easy to go through this, even though I'm aware they're just feelings), I can sense the feelings beginning to ease. I'm hoping I'll eventually become used to this process, and it will become second nature.

My dad noticed I was struggling, which was why he insisted on my being with family this weekend. He thinks he single-handedly helped me out of my slump--and I'm letting him. He needs to feel that he's helped me in some way, because he still agonizes over the things that happened to me which he could have stopped had he known what was going on. Truthfully, by the time I joined in the festivities, the feelings had worked themselves out, but I recognized my need to get away for a day, and it was good for me.

Now that I'm feeling more able to manage this lovely condition, I'm looking back at how many times I allowed it to damage relationships and I'm a little sad. I wish I knew what to do to mend things. But maybe some things can't be made better.

So--if you're a casualty of my inability to deal with my life, I'm sorry. I miss you. And I love you.

Four Years Ago

I didn't blog.

I was afraid of anyone male over the age of 14.

I was a chronic overachiever.

I was a workaholic.

I was an exercise fanatic--running and weigh-lifting.

I was a teacher in the public school system.

I was a guest lecturer for the university.

I did not have nightmares.

My only social contact outside of my family took place at work.

I read books incessantly.

I always got enough sleep.

I ate three healthy meals daily.

I never became emotionally involved in anything or with anyone.

I loved my husband and children with all the energy in my body.

I did not travel alone, I rarely shopped by myself, I wouldn't dream of spending a night without Darrin.

I was afraid. Always. I didn't know why.

I could not remember my life before the age of 16.

I never talked about myself.

I didn't bother anyone. Ever.



Some things change. Some things do not.

Happy February 29th.

New Friendship Mantra (subject to change when I'm feeling less fierce about it)

I thought that I would write no more about my agony over relationships. That's what I get for thinking.

In the past...

I assumed everyone in the world would like to be my friend, and naturally, they would love me. I've spent many years observing people, watching what attracts them, learning to negotiate conversations and preferences. I've learned the fine art of listening, asking leading questions, making appropriate eye contact. I know when to be assertive and when to withdraw.

It's not manipulation. It's survival.

Because inside I'm well-aware that people would be extremely uncomfortable with the little girl who was raped repeatedly, abused by her mother, attracted to other women...

I know that if I tell you that I work thousands of hours, that I'm a musician, a financial adviser, an editor, a tax preparer...you won't see the person running from reality and hiding in the comfort of just one more job. You'll assume there's something special about me that makes me able to do many things well. You won't understand that I must do those things, I have no choice. To not work leaves leisure time, remembering time, sad time...and I'm finished being sad.

It's not talent or intelligence. It's survival.

And now people know. And, honestly, I'm okay with that. I've been hiding for a very long time. A few people have stayed much longer than I thought they would. But I can't quite kill the belief that one day they'll be gone, because I'm not meant to have people who will stay.

It's not negativity or believing in the worst-case scenario. It's survival.

I've mentally and emotionally allowed everyone to leave. It's okay if they don't call--that's the expectation. It's okay if they only contact me at Christmas--I planned for that. It's all right if they go away and I never hear from them again. Because if it's not okay, that means I might need them, or perhaps I just want them to stay. That would mean inviting someone other than me to be a part of my life, and I'm afraid of that.

But yesterday...

I decided some things.

I don't want to be the lovely person who puts everyone at ease all the time. And if that means some people don't think I'm wonderful, well, that's okay.

I don't want to work forever. Someday I want to be able to relax and think about the good things. And if I don't remember, just for a moment, the things that have hurt me, I think that's okay, too.

BUT--

If my friends get lives and decide maybe they don't have time for me anymore, or they decide I'm too much trouble and they want to run away from me, or they decide they don't want to call or chat or email anymore...

THAT IS NOT OKAY!!

I've decided. If you're my friend, we're staying that way. If there's a problem, I expect that you'll come talk to me about it. And if you don't--THAT IS NOT OKAY!! If we need some space, that's fine, but if you don't come back--THAT IS NOT OKAY!!

I'm finished living in a shell. I'm perfectly all right letting you know that you're important to me, that I want you in my life. And I don't care if you don't love me back, but I plan on loving you forever, and I think it would make us both happier if you love me, too. And by the way, I'm very vocal about how much you've impacted my life, how you've been available to me when I needed someone, how you've supported me as I've changed, but guess what!! I think I've done the same for you. And I don't care whether you agree or not. If I've done nothing to help you live your life in a positive, healthy way, then our friendship is unbalanced, and THAT IS NOT OKAY!! So if I'm wrong, and I haven't done those things, I expect that you'll allow me to do so, or, basically, we're not really friends.

That's all. So if you're my friend, and you have something to respond (negative or positive)--well, I've provided a comment section for you. Please--respond away...

Dear Adam,

It is not acceptable to put the peas and pineapple in the same container when you clear the table. And if you ever want to rotate to a different job, you'll stop telling me all the reasons those two items belong together, and you'll separate them before their flavors co-mingle. Also, putting the lid on the saucepan and leaving it in the garage is just gross. I have no idea what that food used to be before it became furry.

Yes, you get to take care of it.

Yes, it's okay if it makes you throw up--after all, if you're flushing the furry food down the toilet, you're in the proper place to barf.

I think you may need to work on your table cleaning skills for perhaps one more month.

No, this is not negotiable.

Love,
Mom

Dear Yahoo,

You are stupid. I should not have to log out and then back in again to get my email. That is all.

Sincerely,
Sam

Dear Sam,

In order for it to actually count as a meal, you have to eat it. You can't just make it and leave it sitting on your plate because you forgot to eat it. Now it looks nasty and is all cold. I suggest you throw it out and eat a piece of toast instead. And don't leave it in the toaster.

Sincerely,
Yourself

Invisible

I love Google Talk. I like being connected with people. Sometimes I can't chat, but I'm online (usually working) and it's fun seeing the dots light up, even if they're red. It tells me someone I love is awake and living, and that makes me smile. Sometimes, even when my red dot is on, someone I care about will say hello, acknowledge that I'm busy and let me know it's okay not to respond--they just wanted to let me know they were thinking of me. That makes my day feel wonderful.

This morning I noticed Google Talk had an "invisible" option. So I've been trying it. I've been online and invisible all morning. Then I started thinking, I'm sure this is a nice option for someone who's looking for a particular person to come online, but doesn't necessarily want to talk to others. So when the Awaited Chat Buddy (ACB) comes online they can talk uninterrupted. Then I started thinking, what if the ACB does the same thing? Then they're both sitting online, waiting for each other...forever...and they're like two ships that pass in the night (are you weeping yet?)...

But maybe most people are more organized than I am, and they actually email each other and say: "Hey ACB! Let's talk today. I'll be the invisible one this time. You got to do it last time, remember?"

I'm not sure I like this new option. I have a feeling I'll be spending too much time thinking, "I'd sure like to talk to .... I wonder if he's/she's invisible...now would be a really good time to develop the see-who's-invisible-superpower."

So--I suppose if you're on my chat list, and you start getting multiple emails that say:

Are you there???

Are you invisible???

I can't see you!!! Talk to me, PLLEEEEAASSSSEEEEE!!!!!

You'll know then that I'm not coping well with this new feature. I'm hoping Google develops one soon that says "Invisible to everyone except Samantha because she can't cope with wondering whether or not you're online". Probably they won't, though. The name of that feature is far too long.

*sigh*

Yup...that was stupid...

Apparently, if you have a cavity for three years (or possibly longer), and you don't go to the dentist because you're a dentist wuss, the cavity can become something worse.

So, now I have "something worse." I'm not sure what the exact name is, but it involves an infection, incredible pain which extends upward into through my cheekbone into my eye socket, laterally across my upper and lower jaws, and downward through my neck, ending at my left clavicle. Interestingly, my shoulder joint began to hurt, as well last night.

So I called my dentist last night, who sort of asked why I waited so long. And I confessed that I was a dentist wuss because I hate flashbacks in the dentist chair--mostly because I'm afraid I'll throw up on the guy with his hand in my mouth. He thanked me for telling him, phoned in a prescription for an antibiotic and a pain medication and put me on his list for an emergency appointment in case of a cancellation (my current appointment is scheduled for the last week of March). But all the pharmacies were closed so I have to wait one more hour before getting my prescriptions. I have every kind of pain killer I could find in my medicine chest residing in my body. I hope I don't die from mixing medications or something (I am so glad The Great -L- is too busy to read this!).

In the meantime, I couldn't sleep, so I watch the sun rise this morning. It was gorgeous. Even extreme pain can't keep me from enjoying that!

However, I'm not sure if I'll ever eat again. My mouth is too sore, and I keep throwing up whatever I eat (not sure how the pain killers have managed to stay down). Hopefully, this will be better tonight. I have lots of work to do.

Dreams

I had a dream last night in which I was met by AtP, Sully, Tolkien Boy, and Jason. Each of them told me they had enjoyed our friendship over the past year. Then they said they had only entered my life to help me learn about love and friendship, and that now they were leaving. They asked me not to contact them and assured me I'd be fine. I don't remember feeling anything except disbelief. I made some comment about wondering if maybe there had been some benefit for them in having me as a friend? They laughed and said no.

Then Mr. Fob flew in in his Superman garb and The Great -L- rode in on a giant stethoscope and went the three of us went to lunch (I know--a giant stethoscope? I suppose it could have been worse...a giant speculum...ick).

All I have to say is--at least it wasn't my normal nightmare. And Mr. Fob and -L- and I laughed a lot before Mr. Fob had to leave to save the world and The Great -L- used his amazing disappearing power and left me with the bill.

I have three dozen roses

One dozen from Darrin for our anniversary.




One dozen from Darrin for Valentine's Day.




One dozen from DJ and Adam--for my Valentine's Day wedding anniversary.

They smell wonderful.

Full Circle

I remarked to a friend a couple of months ago, that it seems my life has come full circle. In November of 2005, one event caused the stability I'd built for myself to crumble. From that point major changes began to happen and I thought my life would never be the same. I'm realizing now, that it won't be, but there are certainly things happening which cause me to feel that life is reverting back to normal.

Things that changed after November 2005:
1. I lost a couple of my favorite piano students. They left because their own lives were becoming too cluttered and they needed time to regroup and figure things out. This was monumental for me because I have never lost a student before. I've asked some to go because they weren't practicing, or they've moved away, or they've graduated and gone to college, or referred them to a different teacher, but the situation where the student and I both wished for the lessons to continue, but were forced to stop because of extenuating circumstances has never happened to me. It was a little devastating.
2. I started talking. I was a complete listener before. I told just enough about me to keep the other person comfortable, and help them continue talking about themselves. But usually, if I was talking, it was about something I was reading, or a composer, or some trivial nonsense--entertaining but not personal. I was warm, and charming, and completely walled off from anyone who knew me. By November of 2006 I had learned how to talk about me--not just about my past, but about me right now. And I did, to whomever would listen. Years of being silent poured out of me. I used up a few of my friends in the process. One can only spend so much time hearing about another person before it drains the life out of a friendship.
3. I quit one of my jobs, and referred about 15 of my students to other teachers, leaving my studio with eight members. I did this so that I could concentrate on "getting through" with therapy in a short time. I expected it would be about four months...sometimes I am a complete idiot.
4. I told. I told everyone. I spoke with family and friends. I talked from pulpits and referred to it in lessons. I hid no longer from the acts that stole my childhood from me. At first I did so anonymously. Today I no longer worry that someone might find out that I was molested or abused. I feel no shame in that and will discuss it if I feel it's pertinent. I don't talk about it simply because a topic of conversation might be needed, but neither do I run from it.
5. I made friends. I allowed people into my life. I sought them out. I was interested in them--but also allowed them to be interested in me. I wanted them in my life. I allowed myself to feel the joy they brought to me. I played and laughed and talked my head off. I reveled in the fact that Darrin was not my only link to human emotional intimacy, and he encouraged and supported me as I explored previously unknown territory (I think it's very possible that he felt relieved).
6. I worked like crazy on learning about myself. I tried with all my strength to "finish" what I started. I sincerely believed I would succeed.

Things that have come full circle:
1. One student who left me has returned. Her life is more settled. She wants to play once again. At one point we encountered each other when our counseling visits coincided. Our counselor was mortified. We just laughed. I love teaching this student one more time. The other student who left has contacted me about taking lessons in the summer. I don't know if it will happen. It's okay if it doesn't. Just knowing that he wishes to is enough.
2. I'm ready to stop talking so much. I want to listen again. I'm comfortable learning about others and it makes me happy to do so. I'll talk about myself if I feel someone would like to know me better, but I understand that my life really isn't that entertaining. I feel badly about the time I've spent talking, talking, talking when I could have been hearing about real life from the people I love. If my friends come back, I don't want to use them up anymore. I would like to feel that they know they can trust me to hear what they say, and understand how much I care about them.
3. I went back to the job I quit two years ago. They've sent me more work than I expected, and I've been busier than ever, but I'm also having some trouble dealing with changes as my life returns to normal, so the work is welcome. I've allowed my studio to gain just a few more students, but I don't know that I'll ever go back to my previous number of around 30 students. However, everything has a feeling of familiarity which is comforting and disconcerting at the same time.
4. I'm comfortable with what has happened in my life. That doesn't mean I think it was okay, it simply means I will discuss it if necessary. I won't run or hide from it anymore. It says nothing about me--only about what was done to me.
5. Friendship remains a mystery to me. But I've come to the conclusion that most people are a little mystified by it. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. Sometimes it leaves and no one seems to notice. Sometimes one friend gets swallowed up in life and leaves the other behind. There seems to be no way to control the phenomenon, nor do I have any way to revitalize friendships that wane. I wish I did, because, unlike those I befriend, I don't go through a "honeymoon" stage where they're delightful and I can't get enough of them, which stage later seems to change to boredom or irritation. I seem to remain in the, "Yay!! You're here! I'm so excited to be with you!" part of friendship indefinitely. I watch people become accustomed to me, notice that they come back less often and seem less than enthusiastic when I appear in their lives, and I wonder why this is so baffling to me. The good thing--I don't have to do anything. Time seems to decide the fate of every friendship.
6. My therapy was not finished in 4 months. I've been told it will continue throughout my life--not weekly or monthly, but with annual checks to be sure I'm managing the PTSD successfully and helping in case of triggers and relapses. Not the happiest prognosis for me, but I'm living and breathing. That's a good thing.

Over all this hangs a feeling that life has returned to the way it was before. I'm calmer. I don't feel the need to search constantly for answers. I simply want to run and work, and play with my kids--and anyone else who wishes to remain in my life. That's the one thing which has changed forever. I welcome people. I'm no longer afraid of men--even the straight ones. I'm not protecting myself against hurt--it will happen simply as a part of life--and I'll be fine when it does. I want to be with others, to feel who they are, to hear their stories, to let myself love them.

Perhaps, even if nothing else changes, this will make it all worth it.