Home and safe.

I’m back in my home town and I am finally feeling safe. I am in pain for no apparent reason- low abdominal pain which I am wondering whether is body memories or not – but at least I am feeling safe. I have felt emotionally conflicted whilst I have been here but I am glad that I am with the family that cares so much about me.

My cousin had a wedding blessing, and we got to see the photos – she lives in America, so we had a video to watch of the crazy reception and the wedding itself. My cousin looked so beautiful in her dress, and my other cousin was calm, smiling and happy beside her. I felt a pang of regret that I couldn’t afford to fly out and spend time with them, but we will see them in Florida again this year.

What I have been struggling with is the relentless programming from my ex. He used to force me to keep all my emotions inside, until he would go cold and quiet for a few days, then unleash the full fury of his anger on me and all my damaged feelings would come spilling out. As I had been keeping everything locked inside me, for fear of “mithering” him, they were ragingly strong and he hated that. I used to apologise for everything when he got like that, and even now I am still programmed to believe that people are angry with me when maybe they are busy, or just haven’t got my text yet.

I feel this way a lot. I feel this way about all the relationships I have had since him. I am trying hard not to right now, but I am feeling the same about J, and I don’t want to. I want to trust that he is just very tired and busy, but the horrible nagging eggshell feeling won’t let me rest. I know that he is just having a hard time right now, and I am here for him, but this emotional flashback is driving me insane.

Does anyone else have experience with emotional flashbacks and how to deal with them?

In other, much better news, I will be seeing someone from a charity to help rape victims soon. I wrote to them asking for someone to help tide me over until I get my therapy, and they have said yes. They are currently finding me someone to see. I can’t disclose the name of the charity because of some long, complicated bullshit, but I am really pleased I will be getting real, practical help very soon.

Fingers crossed my emotional flashbacks subside soon.


Another post about force

This is so true, it stings like there is salt in a wound.


Re-reading this, I feel like I wasn’t as clear as I wanted to be in explaining the threatened and implied force that motivates a rape victim to cooperate during a “non-violent” rape attempt.

I started thinking about when I was a kid taking martial arts classes. My sensei frequently took the girls aside and talked to them about things he obviously thought were more relevant to us. For example, we learned long before the boys different moves to execute when you are pinned to the ground, and we were occasionally taught lethal or extremely injurious manuevers that were otherwise only taught to the adults. He didn’t make direct reference to why he was teaching us these things, but said things like, “If a man has you pinned to the ground,” or “If there is no other way to get away.”

He also taught us about body language, and how…

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Written three years ago, for my little marble.

I feel scraped out and raw and hollow.

I feel like there is a tomb, a little tomb, inside me. I feel like someone has come at me with an oystershell, smashed it open in front of me, let the pearl inside vanish and melt and run down the sides.

The broken pieces of the shell cut me. Little splinters of shell. The rainbowwhite insides are enchanted, showing me what could have been. Mirror mirror, on the wall.

God, I can’t believe I was so stupid. How could I not have seen you? So small, so precious.

My darling, I never meant it like this. I wouldn’t have cared that it would have been just us two against the world, no third pillar to hold us up. Of course, it would have been better, easier, with that pillar, and maybe that’s why you had to vanish. Like trying to grab dry-ice, or a bubble. So real and tangible, yet, when a fist closes over it, insubstantial. Maybe you weren’t right, something not happening within you, the first small warping becoming more and more severe, like driftwood in a tidepool. Rotting, warping, twisting.

Maybe I just couldn’t hear you.

The scream is locked inside me. I can’t let it out. If I let it out, I will dissolve like I did before, my arms wrapped like rope round my legs, my tears choking me, my heart snapping free of the ice I’ve frozen it in and burning in my chest. That flame will consume me. It’s science- the raw dry bones of me, the tinder in my soul: you set spark to that and I’m alight, the only sign of the burning house the glitter in its eyes. I mean windows.

What the hell do I mean?

All I know is I had you inside me, honing, carving, building, loving. Loving you even though I had no idea you were there. Of course I didn’t. Oh God, why didn’t I know you were there!? I should have felt you there, slowly trying to become something, one small spark to two to four to thirty-six. And onwards. A little finger forming. A face, a smile saved for later. A little heart.

That small heart should have been the loudest thing on the planet to me, and I was so deaf I didn’t hear it.

And the pain of your loss. The shredding knives in my insides, the fear. What the hell was going on? What was this? And the nagging fear as the blood began to flow, too thick, my head pounding with horror as I slowly understood.

And then the research. The disbelief. The wandering around numbly for days, the shudder that vibrated up from my insides, only for me to push it down, then slowly creeping up again. The pain, the pain that still flayed me hollow.

The shock of it sits in me where you were. Instead of the slow growth, the blossoming love, the bond, there’s sickness and a shock and a huge scooped out hollow between my hips where you lay.

I’ve lost you forever.

The Valentines Day Bust-Up

I have only ever felt this way once before- that was in 2011. The Valentines Day Bust-Up had happened, I was at home in my flat in London, and I didn’t leave the flat for at least three days. I locked myself away, pretended I had a flu virus to my concerned family on the phone, bit my nails to the quick and cried. I thought I was going crazy, and, in retrospect, I was. He had made me this way. Was he proud?

Now, I am feeling similar. I can’t leave the flat where my friends are because I go into meltdown, flinching and terrified and positive I have seen him wherever I look. My friends, Z and N, have looked after me so well. N took me out for a walk so I wouldn’t get freaked out, and Z has listened to me talk about the stupidity that is this illness for hours on end.

After a while, I worked out that I am experiencing an emotional flashback. He impacted me so badly that Valentines Day that I am re-living it, emotionally. I am feeling the emotions I felt then in response to being aware that it was Valentines Day a few days ago, that back then I couldn’t deal with it because I was still under his thumb.

I’m actually feeling less guilty now about not making it outside to take a ballet class. Now I’ve worked out just why I have been feeling so awful, it actually makes sense that I should feel this way and that I should want to hide from the world and feel what I wasn’t allowed to feel back then.

Maybe with a brief visit back home this weekend, life will get better.


I called J and read your comments. I’ve taken my herbal sleeping pills so chances are I will be asleep soon.
You and J took care of me tonight. Thank you. ❤

It’s just getting worse. They are yelling at me to slice my arms open. I want to talk to J but I can’t. I don’t want to wake my housemates. I can’t stop crying. I want to die. Why can’t I just be normal?