Archives for the month of: November, 2014

**TW: Sexual abuse, self-harm**

A few weeks ago I decided to try writing a more targeted journal related to healing from sexual abuse at the suggestion of my therapist and my wife. It’s been really hard. I’ve only written two entries and it takes a lot out of me to write, but I have noticed that I feel better once I have written. The first entry was really robotic and basically, “They told me maybe I should write, so here I am, writing.” The second entry was significantly more emotional and I basically just let it all out with no thought for grammar, punctuation, or avoiding explicit language.

What I got out of it: I am extremely angry.

Basically, this journal entry went around all the usual suspects: I’m disgusting, I’m sad, I feel like cutting my arms to shreds and burning the insides of my thighs, I want to take all the medicine, I’m not okay and nobody can see it, and then it got to the main point. I AM ANGRY. My father RAPED me, repeatedly, and did who knows what else because I still have very limited memory and my wife believes I was probably drugged for a lot of it based on the culture of my father’s side of the family and the huge parties I grew up entertaining adults at. THAT SHOULD NEVER HAVE HAPPENED. And sometimes, yes, I believe I am disgusting and I know that’s normal for someone who has been through this to believe, but I feel very fortunate that I am able to easily turn it around and say to myself, “You know what? HE is the one who is absolutely fucking disgusting and vile and deserves to die.” Now…what to do with this anger? It has me seething. I’ve never felt so angry before (allowed myself to feel so angry?) and I’ve never wanted revenge so badly. I know, “the best revenge is a life well lived” but that doesn’t feel very satisfying right now. Any ideas?


I am having so many memories and nightmares and body memories and I feel like I could just crawl into my bed and never come out. I feel worse by the day and I’ve had to quit therapy because I can no longer afford it. I guess it has to get worse before it gets better? Always darkest before the dawn? Some other cliche?