Once when I was really, really ill, as a teenager, I was taken to the hospital. I had urinary tract infection. I think I must have been 15? Or there abouts. I had a boyfriend and was sexually active but there was no one in my life who could advise me about practical matters of sexual health. When I started peeing blood and razor blades I wondered if I had STD. I went home and took a hot bath which is about the worst thing you can do. It got worse and worse and finally I was taken to the emergency. I waited for hours and hours because it's not critical, just painful. No one gave me any pain relief. I had Anne Rice's vampire chronicles and spent those hours (four or five) sitting in a toilet cubicle next to the emergency room, in acute pain and tears, reading about vampires because it was my only escape from misery.
When I think back now on all that unhappiness I know that it's because I was abused. My years as a victim of sexual abuse made me feel worthless. I dated someone who treated me badly because that's what I felt like I deserved. I chose to do things that were bad for me because I felt worthless.
Now whenever I see Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles I think of peeing blood and razor blades and confusion and misery and self-loathing and self-pity and grief.
Now I'm in my mid thirties and it's been years since I was last depressed. I have been depressed enough times that I know just what to do. Cancel everything. Find an escape novel. Batten down the hatches and stay where I know (or think I know) I am absolutely safe. Try to avoid crying in public.
The novel series this time is The Tudor & Plantagenet bodice rippers by Philippa Gregory. I think for the rest of my life Henry the VIII will remind me of being so ground down by grief I can't get up.
Some dreams I have had give me some hope.
I dreamt that I was being taunted and abused and I hit him and this time (unlike all the previous times in my dreams) my punches connected and I had power to fight back.
I dreamt that I was on a boat with people I know and they were being mean to me, and instead of fighting or feeling hurt I held the one nearest to me and spoke gently with the others.
Sometimes I feel like I need to talk to a Christian spiritual leader of some kind - a minister or a priest. I aspire to be an instrument of peace and I aspire to love the sinner while hating the sin.
I aspire to all these things when I'm not howling in grief and crying my eyes out.
When I think back now on all that unhappiness I know that it's because I was abused. My years as a victim of sexual abuse made me feel worthless. I dated someone who treated me badly because that's what I felt like I deserved. I chose to do things that were bad for me because I felt worthless.
Now whenever I see Anne Rice's Vampire Chronicles I think of peeing blood and razor blades and confusion and misery and self-loathing and self-pity and grief.
Now I'm in my mid thirties and it's been years since I was last depressed. I have been depressed enough times that I know just what to do. Cancel everything. Find an escape novel. Batten down the hatches and stay where I know (or think I know) I am absolutely safe. Try to avoid crying in public.
The novel series this time is The Tudor & Plantagenet bodice rippers by Philippa Gregory. I think for the rest of my life Henry the VIII will remind me of being so ground down by grief I can't get up.
Some dreams I have had give me some hope.
I dreamt that I was being taunted and abused and I hit him and this time (unlike all the previous times in my dreams) my punches connected and I had power to fight back.
I dreamt that I was on a boat with people I know and they were being mean to me, and instead of fighting or feeling hurt I held the one nearest to me and spoke gently with the others.
Sometimes I feel like I need to talk to a Christian spiritual leader of some kind - a minister or a priest. I aspire to be an instrument of peace and I aspire to love the sinner while hating the sin.
I aspire to all these things when I'm not howling in grief and crying my eyes out.
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