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Published December 11, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Yesterday was terrible. One of the worst days I’ve had in over a year. I haven’t cried that many times, that intensely, for so long. I’m completely drained.

I realized that’s probably why God let me sleep all day Sat. He knew I’d need the rest.

Today was much better. I kept myself busy all day and into the night. I made Christmas presents for the young people I work with. But the minute I sat down from doing that, it all hit me again. Instant and intense sadness.

I wonder how God wants me to live this life. What would he ultimately want me to do? To think or feel? What does he really want from me? Nothing makes sense. I’m trying so hard to make it make sense. I’m so confused and hurt and ashamed. If God gave me this path in life, these parents, this emptiness and loneliness, this shame…what does he want me do to? Why would he do this? I don’t understand.

I’ve asked God to forgive me for everything- even to forgive me for not forgiving my dad and the others who have hurt me. I’ve asked God for someone to love me, for a family, for a baby….even though that’s impossible. He’d have to pull a Mary on that one. But I don’t know ho

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Published December 9, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Today has been super, super intense so far. I cried so, so hard in church. My pastor talked about being a child of God, being adopted into God’s family…and other stuff I can’t remember.

He mentioned some reality TV show named “Finding my Father” about people who set out to find their real dad. He said he tag line was something along the lines of “finding my father is finding myself” or “finding me” or something. I don’t know. I burst into tears. This is EXACTLY what causes me so much pain.

How can I view myself as not a part of who my father is? Is what caused him to violate people in his DNA? In the way he was raised? I have no idea what causes people to become sexual offenders. But if that’s him, could that be me? One thing I learned recently about my uncle is that the ONLY reason he didn’t want children of his own was because he was afraid he’d do something bad to them.

Is this why God won’t give me children? Is this why God is making me live alone? Am I so bad that no one deserves me? Am I so damaged that no one should have to live with me? I know men want a partner, not someone they’d have to take care of.

I can’t stop weeping.

My pastor mentioned a prayer request I put in last Sunday. I used to write prayer requests all the time. But since I was hospitalized, I stopped writing them. I was too afraid someone would find out it was me and they would lock me up.

I burst out crying again in church when he mentioned it. I became hot and fidgety and super intense. I cried so hard and I still haven’t stopped crying. I drove to a mall to walk around to get the feel of the holidays. But I got lost because I was so out of it. Then, when I found the mall, I sat in the parking lot crying and crying.

I don’t understand how people are supposed to get over this. How do you move on from your father being a serial child molester? From your own flesh and blood being a serial sex offender? How do I move on when I’m faced with a life so alone?

Published December 8, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I’ve had a ton of nightmares lately…the night before last I woke up 7 times from nightmares. Ridiculous. The good thing is that I’ve been able to sleep well other than that.

I just got out of bed. It’s 4pm. I don’t know how I slept all day and all night. Last night I had a bunch of weird dreams. Probably the weirdest one was a woman who gave me a fetus. Somehow the fetus was partially mine, but she had been carrying it. It came out on one of her tampons- I know, weird. She said it wouldn’t grow in her anymore, but since it was partially mine, it could still grow in me. When she gave it to me, I treated it gently…it was in the shape of a tampon, traces of blood, and it was freezing cold…almost frozen. I thought it was probably dead because it was so cold. I took it and warmed it though- I placed it up against my body to give it heat. I cradled it for days. Finally, I decided if it was dead, I’d have to let it go so I checked. I carefully took apart the tampon and found the fetus- it was in the shape of an egg…like an over-easy egg. It had 2 bulges sticking out. I decided to keep warming it for another day, then check on it again. He next day, the tiny egg…still looking like an over-easy egg, had 4 or 5 bulges that grew overnight. So I knew the fetus was actually still alive, still growing, and it’s cells were multiplying.

I can’t remember much after that. I do recall waking up and being disturbed by me carrying a fetus in my dream. I don’t know why I dreamt that. It could be because I want children and it’s too late for me to have any. It could be because I already had my chance and had abortions instead. Maybe my mind, my heart and soul are haunted by that. I mean, I know they are. Maybe that’s what the dream was from though?

I woke up earlier this morning and couldn’t face the day. I walked my dog, gave him his medicine, and went back to bed.

I fell asleep thinking about how lonely Christmas is. Last Sunday, my pastor talked about how everyone is so tired from all the holiday parties at Christmas. I sat there, not knowing exactly what he was talking about. I haven’t been to a “holiday party” in years. Haven’t been invited, don’t even know of any. I don’t know…it made me feel like he was more sociable than I’ve ever been. And it made me feel lonely. Not his fault at all…but it made it sink in harder than I’m alone. This year, I barely decorated for Christmas. I strung up 2 sets of lights. That’s it. I don’t have the heart or the energy for more. Plus, my place still looks pretty terrible, I’m still fixing things up when I have the money to…but to put up Christmas lights over blue painter’s tape, which I did, looks silly.

It’s been a while since I’ve talked to any adults. I speak to adults in passing at work occasionally, but my spot where I work is actually outside the main building. I only go inside for meetings or the bathroom. I’m pretty darn isolated.

Published December 5, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m in the worst mood today. I feel like walking away from it all. Walking away from my job, where I live, my entire life. I am dispensable in every aspect of the word. At my church, people wouldn’t even notice I was gone. On social media, I’ve already disappeared. At my job, they’d simply replace me.

I can’t handle this messed up world. I really can’t. I’m just not strong enough. Maybe if I didn’t care so much about the damage my father caused, I could focus more on self-preservation. That’s supposed to be an instinctual thing for humans. I’m pretty sure that’s faded from my existence. Even when I stopped to help the lady hit by a car, I was on my knees in the middle of a 4 lane road with cars whizzing by. For an instant, I thought about scene safety…I could easily get hit being on my knees in the middle of the road…and an instant later, I dismissed that thought- hoping I’d get hit. At least, I could go out doing something good for society.

I don’t know why I keep picturing my arm cut open from my dream. It’s gory- cut deep and down to the bone- ligaments and everything exposed.

I don’t know how to get help without the risk of getting hospitalized. To me, nothing is worth that. Ever. Never. So, I keep my mouth shut, act like everything is good, and burst at the seams from the inside out.

I’m so pissed off and irritated right now. I can’t even say why. My head is killing me. I just want to get out of here and disappear. I can’t get far enou

Published December 4, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Just got off the phone with my mom. I do not want to go there at Christmas. 😦 She told me I didn’t need therapy, that I’d have to suck it up and deal with it and she called me going to therapy “garbage.”

I can’t stand that kind of antiquated attitude. I need some sympathy and compassion. The fact that I dream of my father saying he’s sorry shows me what my heart needs. My mom has the same cover it up and suck it up attitude that most older people have.

I hate that. I really do. My fucking father is a serial child sexual predator and I’m just supposed to suck it up?? My rapist moved here where I live and I’m just supposed to deal with it? Fuck that shit. I just want to disappear. This is why I don’t share things with my mom. She’s never been the sensitive type. I never got hugs, was never told I was loved, was never told they were proud of me. They just weren’t that kind of parents. I performed and out performed in school for approval. God, I just want to get out of here.

Before talking with my mom, I was thinking that I don’t have the courage to deal with the issue of my dad. If I’m going to live through it, I’ll probably have to pretend it never happened and ignore it. If I try to face it head on like I’ve been doing, I simply won’t make it. I’m not strong enough. All I can think of is to not be here anymore. This world wasn’t built for people like me. I’m not strong enough.

Unless I pretend it never happened. Then maybe one day, after suppressing the truth, I might implode and die anyway. Does it really make a difference if it happens now or later? Why prolong things?

I’m so pissed off right now. I don’t want to see her, don’t want to talk to her, don’t want to be near her. I can’t take the constant berating. I can’t take anything anymore.

I wish I had something to offer this world, to offer the few friends I have left. I don’t even have anything to offer my own mom. So ducking useless.

Published December 3, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I was just literally woken up from sleep- reminded of my worst sins. I asked God to forgive me, I asked him to forgive my dad, I asked him to forgive all of us. I asked multiple times.

Then I wondered why God woke me up to make me feel so guilty. I thought it was to realize I am a sinner, I’m no different from my father.

And now I wonder about that. Yes, I’m a sinner. Yes, we’re all equally depraved in sin in God’s eyes. But would God wake me from sleep to make me feel guilty? Is that God or is that Satan?

It seems like righteous guilt. I have sinned. I’ve done terrible things. It makes me no better than anyone else here on this earth. Again, I wonder why I’m here. Why would God love me if I’m so evil? How could he? – that’s the better question. How could he love us in our sin? He hates sin…we commit it all the time…wouldn’t he turn away from us? From our pathetic, selfish lives