I knew something was terribly wrong. The desire in me, to bust out to the world with what I knew, was so very strong. I had kept the secret for a long time. Knowing something bad happened, something unspeakable, I could hardly keep from bursting at the seams. You see, I never thought it was my fault, like so many victims do. Not me. I knew damm well where the blame was. I def came by my abuse honestly.
When the realization, of what I had endured in my childhood, had hit me, coupled with the blatant lack of validation and more concern for the PERPETRATORS I began to unravel. My life started to shrink. No family (of origin) support. I was met with “oh you can’t say anything or they might kill themselves” and “you better not talk about it or he’ll get a divorce.” AYFKM?
At first, staying on this earth was a bit of a challenge. Wouldn’t it be easier if I just ended my life? I mean, really? I finally tell my most intimate, vulnerable, humiliating secret to family members -who should have cared- but they cared more for the family image than my aching existence.
I spiraled out of control mentally, physically and emotionally. I could control nothing. I was betrayed, deeply, yet once again. This one hurt the most. Family is supposed to support you, believe you and be there for you in times of need, sorrow or panic.
My body started rebelling. This betrayal and dismissal of all that was truth for me, was completely devastating for me. I had lost control of my life. Memories, body sensations, visual memories, words, experiences, etc. were surfacing.
I completely lost my appetite. One by one, all items lost their appeal. Chewing seemed too labor intensive. I would spit out food as I had no desire to swallow it. I was never hungry. If I did manage to get things down I would vomit it up 5,6,7 hours later – undigested. It was as if my digestion was on strike. My body had a protest – Stop this bullshit existence – it said.
I couldn’t make the anxiety and panic attacks go away. I couldn’t make ANYTHING go my way. Couldn’t make anyone believe or see or know what I knew to be true. The only control I had, was controlling what I took in. THIS was how I could CONTROL. THIS was how I could bring the anger inward to kill the parts of myself that I hated. The parts that felt ugly, the parts that should have been stronger, the parts that wanted to be invisible, the parts that were dying for attention and validation and love. I hated my situation. Everything sucked.
I only ate canned peaches and custard. For months 😳. For months…I could NOT get anything else down my throat. My body would react violently with vomiting and/or panic attacks and extreme anxiety. During my panic attacks my right side would go numb, my pupils would dialate rapidly. I was a hot mess.
Down 20 lbs on my 120 lb body was a BIG DEAL. Skeleton like, zombie existence. The PANIC dug it’s nails into me with a fury as I looked down at my naked body and saw what looked like a 9 yr old.
To be continued…..