Published June 17, 2018 by Chloe Madison

More than halfway through this day….

I wished a few people a happy Father’s Day today. One was my former pastor, who told me he viewed me as one of his own daughters. I’ve wished him and only him a happy Father’s Day now for over a decade. His reply was sweet:

And then I wished my brother a happy Father’s Day. That turned out to be one of the most difficult texts I’ve ever written. This is only his second year as a father and he’s been doing a phenomenal job. But I struggled with the text because I lied.

Dorce is what I call my brother, Spuck is what we used to call my dad when we were little.

I don’t know that my dad would be proud. I could assume that. And when I started thinking about what he would think of my brother and his children…my thoughts very quickly went bad. I wondered if he would ever hurt my niece or nephew the way he hurt me and my uncle. I wondered if he would love them or just view them as easy prey. How would he view them? Would he, in some sick way, be sexually attracted to them?? It’s disgusting for me to even think about.

But I realized, maybe my dad’s emotions wouldn’t be pride for how his son turned out as a father- but maybe a sick attraction to his little children. This disturbs me so, so deeply. But this is something I’ll never have an answer for. I deleted my text, then retyped it, then deleted it again, then retyped it again.

I came to the conclusion that saying my dad would be proud of him would make him feel the best. Even if it wasn’t true. God, it was so difficult to type those words, to say what I think is a lie.

I want so badly to tell my brother the next time I see him why I was in the hospital. But without explaining WHY I have PTSD, Depression, and Anxiety, I’m afraid he’ll judge me. He won’t understand. He’ll think I’m weak.

But I can’t bear to tell him all of the truth because that would ruin his happy life…in so many ways.

Today after church, I sat with two homeless guys for a while. I just chatted with them. I wound up giving them some bug spray, a knife, and two flashlights I had in my car. We were talking about the difficulties of living in a tent. I told them if they came to church next week again, I’d bring them more bug spray and a hand held broom (at their request).

And then when I drove home, I thought about my dad again. And stupid Father’s Day. I thought about all my anger and rage and how I’m not yet able to move past that. I thought about all the damage my dad has caused- just to me- not to mention to my uncle and any other victims he had. His choice to die and his abuse…I don’t even understand myself all the layers (psychologically) that his sexual abuse has caused. I have so many issues with men, fears of men, doubting their intentions (no matter who they are). I have so many issues with sex and it’s been a problem in every relationship I’ve ever had. I have so much fear of pain down there, that no matter how much I’ve wanted to have children, I was always terrified of the giving birth part. And I look at how I let my ex-fiancé treat me- and (I think) that psychologically that was because of how my dad used me and abused me. I expect that from men, so it’s “normal” to me. There is so much more to sexual abuse than any other kind of abuse. I don’t even understand it all.

I’m trying though. I’m trying to understand so I can understand myself and work through things. I also think that some of my issues with God as my Father are from the abuse I experienced with my dad. I’m projecting how my dad treated me onto how I think God is treating me and the rest of the world. Even knowing that though, I find it impossible to believe that God is “good.” I want to believe it… I just don’t truly know it.

After my last session, I spent the next 3 days in bed. It’s no wonder I’m getting obese. Not only am I eating my feelings, but I’m not doing much else to get out and about. I was trying so hard to avoid life that I couldn’t even bring myself to write things out here. In all fairness, I had one of the worst migraines ever the day following my session. It literally incapacitated me. I could barely get out to walk the dog. I stayed in bed that whole day, that night, the next day and night, and the next. Today, I had to fight myself hard to get up to go to church. I was feeling so terrible and so tired this morning, that I decided not to go multiple times. In the end, I forced myself up, got a shower, and went.

I knew I needed to go. I knew God would want me to and I knew I needed it for myself. And I got to chat with those homeless people, so that was cool. I wish I could remember what my pastor preached about. Maybe later it’ll come to me.

Published June 17, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I cried before it was even 7am this morning. I was determined to not let today be a bad day…but I already feel defeated.

I was thinking about my dad…and how he didn’t try to fight cancer. He got surgery, but refused chemo, refused radiation, refused everything except pain meds. I remember my mom being really angry at him for not trying.

Once I realized my dad was a sexual predator, I thought maybe he thought he was getting what he deserved…maybe that’s why he didn’t fight to live. And then I suddenly realized…isn’t that a form of suicide? You have a deadly condition and you refuse treatment…that’s suicide, no?

Today, first thing in the morning, I felt abandoned. It’s over a stupid game. It’s just a stupid game. But I felt like I belonged and I guess it served as a pseudo-family for me. Maybe that’s why it upset me? I tried so hard to figure out what I was feeling- and it was abandonment. And I remember the last time I really grappled with that- and it was with my ex-fiancé, who is now happily married. He threatened to leave me constantly…and did so multiple times- so many times that I’d long lost count. He used it as leverage to control me. But my yearning for him to love me and not leave me was so strong…I just wanted him to love me. And of course, I never wanted him to leave. Obviously, I wasn’t enough. He did leave. He didn’t love me. And that goes right back to my dad. I remember my mom saying he was abandoning us by not trying to get better. And he did. He died and left us. And I wanted a father figure so badly that I fantasized about one of my male teachers (who was gay) marrying my mom. That’s how badly I wanted a dad.

I don’t know where to go with this. I don’t want to be emotional. I want to be done with all this shit. I just want to be normal again. I haven’t been really normal since I was raped at age 9- but I want to go back to being as normal as possible. I’m so over this.

Part of me says to fight right through it and get it dealt with. The other part of me says ignore it. It’s so much easier to not deal with it. I’m actually happy for a little while when I forget all about it.

My last session was incredibly difficult. I cried for 60 straight minutes. But we dug in deep and hard. I told her about my fear with going to the police. I totally thought that it was related to my own issues with the subject matter. But she reminded me of my last encounter with the police and the trauma I went through because of that. It made perfect sense why I was so scared to approach them. I think it was probably both issues coming into play.

She focused in a lot on why I identify so much with my uncle. I think it’s super obvious. She made the valid point that although I blame my dad for my uncle’s suicide, it was a choice my uncle made. Not my dad. Very true. But I understand all too well his decision to do that. And this morning when I wondered if my dad refusing to fight cancer could be a form of suicide…well, it seems … I don’t know. I wasn’t enough for my dad to fight cancer and try to be there as a father for me.

I wasn’t enough for my ex-fiancé who gladly cheated on me and defended his doing so.

I wasn’t enough. I just want to belong. I just want a family. Someone posted a question on Facebook that said something like, if you could have anything in the world, what would it be? And my first thought was love, a man who loved me and didn’t have intentions to harm me or use me, then I thought a spouse, then I thought a family, children.

And I didn’t reply to this question on Facebook because I will get none of that in this lifetime. It’s just not meant to be. I don’t know why. Only God can answer why he’s chosen that for me. I sure as hell don’t know. I don’t understand it. And this is part of why I struggle with God as being good. I just don’t see it- sometimes, yes. Many times, no.

Published June 11, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Oph. Every day is different and so back and forth. I’m sleeping great some nights and can’t sleep other nights. Terrible headaches some days and no headaches other days. Saturday was a difficult day. The young girl who was raped told me that her offender (who she knows) has been messaging her threatening to kill himself and sending her pictures of his cut wrist. She’d told me that he was a cutter in the past and had used the same strategy to make her feel guilty before. I told her not to engage with him, not to respond, and not to feel bad. She then mentioned that she thought he was at home now. This is the guy who police couldn’t find after he assaulted her- so I thought the police should know ASAP if he was back at home.

I took it upon myself to contact the detective working her case. It was incredibly difficult. As I drove to the police station, I was surprised at how flooded I was with all sorts of emotions. I cried a little on the way there and just kept telling myself that this wasn’t about me…this is for her…just relay the facts to the detective.

My 911 friend actually had impeccable timing as he texted that he was praying just as I was walking into the station. It made me feel a lot better.

I’ve been eating my feelings a lot lately and my body shows it. So I went and ate right after this. I felt so sick though. I barely got home and got through the door as I was throwing up. I did feel a little better after that.

Then a friend messaged to meet up so I jumped at the opportunity, thinking it would be best not to be alone for the remainder of the day.

The only problem is that she lives by the guy who raped me. I have to pass his street every time I go see her. I found myself really disturbed as I did so. I can’t stand going by there. But it’s not feasible for her to meet me anywhere else- she has two handicapped family members she’s responsible for. So she can’t just pick up and meet me- not easily anyway. I really despise being down there by him. I hate thinking about him and knowing he’s so near. It messes so much with my head.

And today in church was kind of ok. Every Sunday is so difficult. I busied myself after church so my thoughts wouldn’t go downhill. I walked around my field tonight. Someone mowed a strip of the high grass. That sucks. The rest of it is high and overgrown though. I didn’t have any bad thoughts as I walked through there. That’s a good thing.

Published June 7, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Trying to not freak out. Roommate didn’t pay rent again. I got another notice on the door, demanding rent or repossession.

The good news: this is the last month this could happen, so I won’t have to worry about it again. The bad news: it’s a month until the new place will be available. The good news: I’ve already started packing. The bad news: where would I put my stuff or myself if I got evicted? I think putting my stuff in storage for a month wouldn’t be much of a problem…. where would I put myself and more importantly, my dog?

I’m trying to stay calm.

And then….I’ve been thinking a lot about all my issues. I realized I’ve been avoiding dealing with things. I’ve just been doing my best to stuff my feelings and not be weird in public- I’ve been pretty darn jumpy with strangers. Tonight, I even jumped when I was startled by a thick post. A post!! I thought it was a person who snuck up on me. Geez…I’m a mess.

I want to get this crap over with. I don’t want to be in this space forever. But I’m so scared to move forward. I don’t have any support…everyone has drifted off. I just don’t think I can do this alone. I’ve tried that before and things didn’t work out well. I mean, today I was scrolling through Instagram and saw a post on trauma healing. I burst into tears. Out of no where…and that showed me how close to the surface all this still is- no matter how much I think I’ve stuffed. It’s not going anywhere.

I went by my field again tonight. The grass is even higher and I wondered why that made me so happy. It’s because I can hide and be private with what I had planned back then. I also realized it’s just familiar…I had stayed away from it for so long because I didn’t want my thoughts to go back there again. It’ll be good when I move away from here in a month.

Or sooner, depending if I get evicted or not. Good Lawd. Be cool, don’t freak out….

Published June 4, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Couldn’t sleep, which blows because I have to be up for work in an hour. I watched the most disturbing movie ever. It’s called Colognia- it’s about the tortuous cult at Colognia Dignidad in Chile.

I wanted to stop watching multiple times, but I couldn’t. I just threw up. It’s disgusting- that movie was too much. I’m so disgusted by what people do to each other. It’s absolutely inexcusable.

In all my hours awake before the movie, I was thinking about everything today. I know I’m angry at God, but I’m surprised at how quickly and how strongly my anger rose in church today. I just remember thinking everything was such BS.

I thought about my inability to accept the reality of my life and move on. And that haunts me. I hope for a breakthrough, but I don’t see it coming. I don’t know what to do with that. At one point, I told myself I need to grieve never having a normal life in order to move on. But I don’t want to accept that- the same way I don’t want to accept the fact that my dad was a twisted sexual predator, an abuser. There’s so much I just don’t want to accept. It’s not that I have my head buried in the sand like an ostrich. I know these are facts. I know my dad abused me. I know he abused others. I know my uncle committed suicide because of it. At this point, I envy my uncle. I know my mom and my sweet little grandma covered up everything to protect my dad. This all still blows my mind. I know it happened. I guess what I don’t want to accept is my connection. I don’t want to accept that my own flesh and blood was capable of this. And did this and conspired to keep it quiet. I think that’s what I don’t want to accept.

And I look at my uncle and at myself and see the similarities. And he didn’t make it. He didn’t make it. I’m not any different than he is. He even had a spouse who loved him. But he still didn’t make it. I have no one. How am I supposed to trudge on through this life with no support? I can’t do it. I just can’t fucking do it. There’s no out from this. There’s no escape. I can’t get far enough away.

Published June 4, 2018 by Chloe Madison

This is where I spend this evening.

I came here yesterday too – for the first time in forever. The high grass makes me feel like no one can see me and that makes me feel safer.

Oph. There is SO MUCH running through my head right now.

The irony

Church was difficult today. I cried and became very angry quite a few times. My pastor was making great points, but all I could think is it was bullshit. There is no healing with God, there is no love with God. There is no trusting him.

I felt like I needed to hear what my pastor said…but I don’t believe it.

I was happy to briefly see my 911 friend today. It wasn’t for long, but our conversation is always deep and I learn so much from him every time I talk with him. He’s such a good person. He recently went through forgiving his father and I was trying to be open and hear everything he had to say about it.

But I just don’t see any of that happening with me and my situation. I feel terrible that I’m angry, but half of me says “who gaf??” It doesn’t matter. I know it matters to God. And I know God would want me to forgive…but….I don’t know. There’s just a solid wall there. I can’t even envision what that would be like now. I’m so pissed off and so mistrusting- untrusting?- however you say it. I can maybe count on one hand the number of human beings I trust on this entire earth.

I don’t know why God would do this.

I don’t know what he wants from me.

I had some bad thoughts shoot through my head multiple times as I was driving home tonight. I wanted so badly to give in to the urge. I wish I did. I sit here now and wish I did.

I’m brimming over with rage and all I can think is F**k this s**t!! F**k everybody. No one will understand. No one will be there. No one is trustworthy. Not even God. Look at what he’s done. Seriously.

When I take a step back and look at my situation- it’s beyond f****d up.

And I’m not sitting here having a pity party. I’m just saying that I refuse to live like this. People aren’t meant to live like this. If I can’t trust God…and I’m a Christian? How the hell do I navigate through life with that? What do I do with all this pain and anger? How can I forgive when my heart has the desire, but it also has the hate? How can I look forward to anything in life when I face it all alone? I don’t want that. I refuse that. I feel like I want to take some control and steer my life in the direction it seems most plausible. I can’t steer it in the actual direction I want because that’s impossible. I don’t care what anyone says- some things in this fucked up life are simply impossible. To have “hope” is to fool yourself in believing a lie.

I just don’t know. I don’t know what to do anymore. I feel like overall things had gotten better. I know I have bad days and good days. But I don’t see an end in sight- at least, not an end where healing takes place. I already had that. And then I

Published June 1, 2018 by Chloe Madison

“The unknown distance to the great beyond

Stares back at my grieving frame”

My God, I have been struck by massive headaches lately. Some have been full on migraines, others just close to migraines. Today, yesterday, the day before, the day before that, it goes on and on.

I even left the house to run an errand, thinking if I got up and moving, my headache would subside. It got so much worse, that I had to turn around and go back home. Ridiculous.

I don’t know what’s causing this- perhaps the stress of moving? Other than that and dealing with the young girl who was raped and continuing to deal with my own stupid stuff, that’s the only stress I have at the moment.

I’m in for a big life change with this move. It will turn my budget upside down and a lot of things are going to change. But I’m so ready for change- any kind of change. If I could literally go to the moon, I would. It wouldn’t be far enough away from this place. So as stressful as the move might be, I’m actually really looking forward to it. It’s a ton more money and a lot less pretty and a lot smaller, but I’m ok with that. I truly feel it’s in a safe place and I really, really need that.

I dreamed last night that my rapist who lives here was at my front door. I freaked out and ran around the house, closing blinds and locking things down and cowering down in an anxiety ridden mess. It was terrible…but honestly, this dream wasn’t nearly as bad as others. I think it shows how vulnerable I feel- that I don’t feel safe and that I feel anyone can do me harm and intrude upon where I live. Everyone has a right- a basic human right- to feel safe where they live.

I often wonder how long this crap will last. I am so sick of this. I remember when I was healed and thought I could handle anything life threw at me with God, my Father, on my side. And now…


Ugh. I just don’t know anymore. I don’t trust him and tears stream down my face as I write this. I feel so guilty about saying that. But it’s the truth of where I am.

I struggle with this every day, practically all day and all night long. I talk to God and pray…but I doubt him and his intentions. I doubt his goodness. I doubt his trustworthiness. And I doubt my own ability to carry on.

My church is doing this thing where they want to “hear people’s stories” and for a second, I thought it would be a great place for me to share. But they’re doing it so others can learn and be inspired by peoples’ successes and how God has moved in their lives. So that cuts me out. That isn’t the place for me to share. I’m not a success and I’m struggling so much with God that no one would be “inspired.” And that’s ok. I know I’m in a tough place with God. I hope he doesn’t give up on me like everyone else has. 😓

My church and my job are the only things not about to change in my life. Actually, my job just did change. A full-time position is called a 1.0. So if you’re 0.8 or less, you work part time. Since I was hired there, I worked a 1.2, which is a full time position and then some. For the last 2 years, I worked a 1.4. That’s practically unheard of. I think I was only able to do it because I have no family, no friends, and no social life here. I needed that 1.4 with this move. It was such good extra money and I needed it so badly to pay down debt. I was told a few weeks ago that I would be down to a 1.2 again. Argh!!! I really need that money. This is part of what will make my budget super tight in the future. So I guess even my job is changing…I will have less work. And honestly, I don’t think that’s a good thing. Being able to busy myself with my job has been important to keep my mind occupied.

Ok. So I guess my church will be the only thing not changing for me. And this is good because my church is amaze balls. Even though I shy away from talking to people there, I absolutely love the people there. And I have a phenomenal pastor who is so gifted at preaching- it’s unreal.

I just don’t know how long I can hang in with this shit swirling in my head. I’m trying to focus on others- on being an encouragement to other people. I’ve been talking a lot with the young girl whose uncle molested and raped her and with her friend, who was raped a few weeks ago. I’m checking in on both of them and encouraging both of them and letting them know I’m cheerleading for them and believe in them. I’ve got their back. I know I would have loved to hear that. So I’m trying to focus on being a positive force in peoples’ lives…but even then, I feel like a failure.

I think often – every single day- of my friends who abandoned me. I wonder what it was about me that they didn’t like. Was I too needy? Not nice enough? Not caring or loving or supportive enough? It makes me so, so scared to lose more friends. I mean, I barely have any to begin with. I wish people could be more understanding. Why throw me away? Why not talk to me? It makes me feel like trash that is discarded. And I already felt that way from the men in my life who used me and cast me aside.

I feel…and I worry…that I’m too needy. I need people. I need support. And everyone has quit on me. Every. Single. Person. It’s not their fault…it’s mine. And this is part of what makes me so angry at God. And here come the tears again. Will I be this much of a mess forever? I feel like this is not my fault. I didn’t ask for my father to sexually abuse me. I didn’t ask to get raped and molested by others. I didn’t ask for my mother and grandmother to cover up everything and protect my abuser. I didn’t ask for a fiancé who degraded me and cheated on me. It’s not my fault that I’m so fucked up. But this is what tires people and chases them away. I guess I can see that people can only deal with so much- they have their own lives and their own issues. And this is why I stand here alone. I’ve always said that and it’s because it’s true. No one is strong enough to stand by your side forever.

So it brings me right back to the same question- how long will this fucking shit last?? I can’t take this forever. I’m hanging in by a thread, carrying on as if I were normal…and I can barely do it. I absolutely cannot take this for much longer. I can’t be this fucked up forever. There is no way in hell I can do this much longer. I’ve got to get better. I cannot go through the rest of life like this. I just can’t. I don’t have the strength or the energy.

“I feel my faded mind begin to roam”