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Published June 20, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Today as I was trying to brush off reliving a few experiences, I remembered something I read. The author was a Vietnam vet who was writing a snippet about his experience. He said something like, “if you see a warrior staring off in the distance, quietly move away.”

Immediately, I knew he was referring to PTSD. But I wouldn’t tell people to move away. I’d tell them to quietly, gently interrupt and thereby redirect our thoughts.

I did quite a bit of staring off and reliving things today. I’m not quite sure why.

It’s one thing I can’t control. I guess it’s more accurate to say there are many things I can’t control. My flashbacks are just one.

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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…

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”

Published May 11, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Oph. I have serious trust issues. I know that must be obvious….but dang, it’s ridiculous. The good news is that I slept well for 3 nights straight. It was awesome. I had a never-ending nightmare last Friday night about being taken hostage for days. That was the last nightmare I’ve had since then. And then the 3 nights following that dream, I slept well- dreamt, but nothing scary or bad. Then, the insomnia started again…but not from nightmares this time. Maybe it’s just from anxiety? I don’t know. One night, I kept falling back asleep, but woke up about 40 times. I kid you not. It was ridiculously bad. But hey, I kept falling asleep though- so that’s good. The other nights recently…I’ve just been awake for hours for no reason. I got up last night around 1am to walk my dog since I couldn’t sleep. I found this on my door:

And that’s when I realize how paranoid and untrustworthy I am. This note scares the sh*t out of me.

I simply can’t trust.

I see it occur over and over again in my life and I don’t know what to do about it. And then I get shocked when people, like my former friends here, choose to abandon me while I’m in the hospital. They just confirm everything negative for me. I totally thought I could trust them! And I did! And then that happened. It takes me so long to feel ok and comfortable with people.

I’ll never forget what an ass I felt like- when I first met my 911 friend. He was too nice…I was so suspicious of him simply because of his friendliness. Even though I mostly trust him now, I don’t think I’ll ever tell him that. He’s one of the kindest souls to walk this planet and I would never want him to stop being nice to people. This world needs so much of that. This world needs more people who care.

But I digress. I don’t know how to take this note. I actually thought it was from another neighbor and almost didn’t finish reading it. Then, I saw the apartment number and realized it was from a different person than I originally thought. Maybe it was finding the note at 1am when I was groggy. I don’t know why it weirds me out so much. It shouldn’t. Right?

I really don’t know. And then, there’s an issue with another friend of mine- one whom I haven’t seen in years and years. He helped pay my hospital bills and has been nothing but nice to me since reconnecting. Months ago, he told me about marital issues he was having and that they were in counseling. But yesterday, he opened up about everything. It goes so much deeper than I ever thought. They’re a Christian couple, but his wife wants an open marriage. I’m dumbfounded. I just don’t get that. Neither does he and he’s reeling with hurt and confusion and resentment. His wife has already become very emotionally attached to 2 other people- one a man, the other a woman. They’ve admitted “feelings” for each other, but decided not to get physical- to just stay friends. But clearly, my friend is hurt by this. Apparently, he hasn’t been the best at communicating over the years. He says he grew up with the idea that men shouldn’t be vulnerable and shouldn’t show feelings. So to a woman, that would appear as uncaring, stoic, aloof. I get it. She feels emotionally neglected and I get that too. I see that quite a bit in marriages- simply as an outside observer.

Anyway, we talked for an hour this evening. I think I was able to give him some good insight from a woman’s point of view. I hope it helps them heal. But my heart hurts so badly for him. I’ve been cheated on twice now. And I can’t imagine the pain he’s going through. He’s not willing to give up on his marriage so he doesn’t want a divorce. That’s good…but I worry with this new “open marriage” concept, even though it’s not supposed to be physical, that it’s only going to complicate things and cause greater hurt and resentment. I just don’t see that ending well. I feel so terrible for him. My heart is very heavy about that. I want to support him in any way I can- even though it’s from across the country. I’m just worried they won’t get through this. I really hope they do though.

It’s odd….I’m struggling so much with God right now. I’m sure he’s angry with me for being mad at him and for pulling away and for not having faith that he will heal me. But that’s just me being brutally honest. Those are only some of my struggles. And my friend with the newly open marriage, was asking my advice on that. My first question was what their relationship with God was like? He said there wasn’t much of one- that they had been burned out in ministry and pulled away from the “Christian culture.” I suggested he get right with God first. And of course, I see the irony in that- I need to get myself right with God. I told him that- I’m struggling with God too- it’s ok. Isn’t it? I don’t want him to give up on God. Look what happens when you do- you die. You die internally. You die spiritually. And in my case, you can die physically. I just think that if their marriage has any hope (<— there’s that evil word again) of healing, that it will come from God.

It was so strange to be giving advice on the Christian walk when I suck so hard at it. I know no one gets it perfect. But I don’t feel I’m in any position at all for that. I can help and support as a friend- that’s for sure. And I will gladly do that.

__________

I’m quite anxiety ridden about where I will live. I have no clue where I’m moving to and time is ticking away. I’m kinda terrified. I think that’s part of what keeps me awake- my mind races and races. The nightmares don’t help- but I’m so grateful I haven’t had them for a whole week now.

Published May 9, 2018 by Chloe Madison

This screenshot is from the movie, “Speak.” That’s the guy who raped her leaning over her. She didn’t tell anyone about the rape- hence the name, “Speak” as she tries to find her voice.

This is how I feel every time I’m near where he lives. It makes me want to throw up. I wish he wasn’t here.

Published April 23, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Couldn’t sleep last night. Went to church, but I couldn’t tell you right now what the sermon was about. My mind is whirling with the precarious situation at work. Please, please pray for that situation to work out as well as possible.

I was shocked today- had a little tiny bit of a start on my monthly visitor. Haven’t had it since I was in the hospital- that’s six months now! I’m still super confused as to why it stopped and now, why it’s starting again. I always thought it was a side effect of the medicine, but with the recent increase in dosage, it would make more sense if it continued in ceasing, no? Part of me thinks it’s just a side effect, part of me worries about what the doc thought (that I was premenopausal), part of me thinks it stopped from the massive and overwhelming stress of being hospitalized, part of me worries there’s something else wrong. That’s why the med doc tried to get me to see the vajayjay doctor. I just can’t though. I can’t handle any other stressor at this point. As much as I don’t want to deal with it, it gave me a little glimmer of hope of possibly having children in the future. I don’t see how that’s even remotely possible…but I can always dream. Right? Worse case scenario- I get disappointed. Been there, done that.

I’m watching this TV show called “Long Lost Family” that reunites people with their birth parents who had given them up for adoption. It reminds me of the time I set out to find out who my real grandfather was. I’d always been told my dad was adopted. My grandmother who betrayed me and my uncle was their real mother, but my dad’s father wasn’t in the picture. I found the family, but I was too late- my real grandfather had already passed away. And then I think of my own children who I aborted.

My God, I had such a hard time even typing that word. I will never forgive myself for never giving them a chance. The first time it wasn’t my choice- I wanted to keep my baby. My mom refused to let me. It was devastating. But I was a teenager and didn’t know how to fight back with my own mother. For that matter, I still don’t know how to stand up for myself and fight for what’s right. The second time, I was raped. And alone. And he was of a different race. And I thought my baby would look like him and I’d be looking into my rapist’s face every time I looked at my child. And I had this irrational fear he’d want visitation rights so I thought I’d have to see him all the time. And I questioned myself- what do I tell my child about their father? Do I lie and make something up? Do I tell the truth and tell them their father is a rapist?

And look at me. My father was a sexual predator and look how fucked up I am. I would never want to do that to a child. Never. Never. Never. It’s not fair. What if they’re like my uncle and myself and they never recover from it? What if they can’t handle it?

I’m watching these people on this show reuniting with their grown children and I realize I should have given my children that opportunity. But I didn’t. I’ve done a lot of fucked up things in this lifetime, but that stands as the worst. I can never forgive myself for that. And I understand God doesn’t want to either.

I’m certain that’s why he won’t give me children now. He already gave me my chance with children. I did the worst possible thing you can do- and God doesn’t trust me now. I wouldn’t trust me either.

I see these people in the show cry and meet up and get through things. They’re forgiving and generous and kind. And I wonder what’s wrong with me- why can’t I be as healthy? It makes me see that there’s something wrong with me- that I can’t accept my dad was a sexual predator, that I can’t move on from that, that I’m alone and will probably be forever because I just cannot trust a man and know there are so few men who are actually safe, that I’m not meant to have children or a family…and tears fill my eyes and stream down my face as I write this.

This is my life.

And it’s not worth living. I’ve fucked up beyond repair, beyond the reach of God’s forgiveness and grace- not that he can’t, but he won’t. He’s mad and has every right to be.

I’ve messed up in life, I’ve messed up in work- and that was the only thing I had where I felt needed and used by God. The only thing. It gave me a tiny sense of purpose. And I’ve messed it all up.

Published April 22, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Had a little melt down today. 😦

A friend had asked me to go to a get together at her house which is nearly two hours away. I didn’t feel up to it and had decided I wasn’t going to go- I just wanted to stay in bed all day and try to decompress.

This work thing has been mounting for two weeks now and I’m incredibly stressed over it. But my friend kept bugging me to come so I called her to tell her that I simply didn’t feel up for mingling and chit chatting with people I didn’t know. And in seconds of beginning to tell her what was stressing me out so much at work, I broke down crying. Hard. Like, crying super hard- I couldn’t even breathe right. I felt so terrible dumping on her. But she convinced me that staying home alone when I was upset wasn’t the best decision to make.

So I drove all the way down there and truthfully, beer is the only thing that made me slightly social. Her husband and I got deep for a moment after a few beers. They were the ones who drove two hours to visit me in the hospital and he came in his wheelchair. He told me how much he loved me and that if it were anyone else who was in the hospital, he wouldn’t have come! Haha! But he stressed over and over how much they love me and that’s why they came and that they want me to be happy. I thanked him repeatedly for coming and told him how much it means to me- because it really does mean a lot. When you know you don’t matter in this world and someone tells you that you do- it at least gives you pause to stop and think you might be wrong…even if only for a second.

I cherish their friendship and am so thankful they were there for me in my weakest moments. I wish we lived closer so I could see them more often. But I’m still glad I have them.

I’m going to try to have a better day tomorrow. Please pray for my work situation- I’m terrified of losing my job or even having my boss think less of me. I pray that neither will happen.