I slept for about 3 hours and I’ve been awake now for about 2 hours. I think it’s safer to stay awake to avoid the dreams.

I had the same dream over and over again- but with different people. Tonight’s nightmares are particularly violent, but not a sexual violence… which is the only good thing about these dreams. It still makes me feel so uncomfortable and scared. I dreamed I was being choked- held up against the wall without being able to touch the ground and choked. Every time, the man was furious with me. Several times the person choking me changed.

The first time I was choked in real life was when I was about 7 or 8 years old. It was the guy who repeatedly raped me, starting when I was 9 years old. He showed his violent nature first. I remember how my best friend’s mom saw him choking me once- it happened in her front yard- and she called the police and my mom. I can’t remember how that ended. All I remember was crying hysterically afterward and trying to swat at him as he choked me. But I wasn’t able to reach him because he was so much bigger than I was.

One of the last times I was choked in real life…Oph. It gives me such a creepy feeling. Everything about that was wrong. He choked me multiple times in a period of a few hours. I think I had seizures because when I’d wake up, sometimes he was laughing at me and mocking me convulsing.

I was an adult when this happened….

and I just realized I seriously don’t want to talk about it. I remember when I was driving across the country last summer, I was overcome with memories of that event- to the point that I pulled into a rest stop in the state of NY and wrote out that event here on this blog. I remember crying so, so much as I recounted it. I just wanted to die. The things I have endured are so shameful to me. So embarrassing. So much is wrong with me. And this world.

Thank God- that as an adult- I stayed away from that guy permanently after that. I broke things off with him immediately and forcefully, hoping he wouldn’t keep trying to come around. He didn’t. Thank God. I never saw him again. But just the thought of him creeps me out so badly…

And then this guy who lives here now… he showed violent tendencies first too. He also showed anger and jealousy before anything terribly bad went down. He broke my septum. I’ll never forget that. I was stunned and stayed away from him like the plague after that. But that didn’t stop what occurred.

😓 I think I need to stop writing now. My mind just keeps going darker and darker and remembering more things that I really don’t want to remember.

My life has been so f****d up. Like seriously…I think sometimes at how ridiculously bad things have gone. I know some people have it way worse than I do. I despise that.

Why are people so violent? What makes a man think they can hurt a child or a woman? What makes people think it’s ok to treat others so terribly? I’m hit with the memory of my first therapist and a book she had me read. It said how people who were victims multiple times or of multiple offenders had excessive guilt about what occurred. I always thought it was somehow my fault. Like why would I be sexually abused/ raped by multiple people? But that book – and my therapist- explained that victims have an invisible sign stamped on their forehead. It’s invisible to everyone in the world- EXCEPT offenders. To them, it glows in neon. They can see us as easy prey. Somehow, they can scan a room full of people and those who have been victimized before simply stick out to them. They know we’re easy to hurt because we’ve been hurt before. I still don’t fully understand that concept- but I read another study that was conducted with inmates where they said something very similar. They could just pick out easy prey.

I hate that I’m scared of and can’t trust most people- men and women. I hate that I’m scared of just about every man out there. There are so few men who I know deep down are good and trustworthy people. When I’m in public, I think I do a great job of acting kind of normal. But I always wonder- is there an offender nearby somewhere who can spot me like a wounded gazelle? That’s why I carried. I feel so vulnerable and weak without it.

I don’t want to think about that anymore.

At this point, I guess I’m just rambling. This is what pours constantly through my brain. I hate these thoughts, these memories, these feelings, and these ***** nightmares! I hate this- it’s not living.