abuse

All posts tagged abuse

Do NOT read. Seriously.

Published October 4, 2017 by Chloe Madison

Please don’t read this. This is for me only. 

I don’t know what’s wrong with me. I’m back to having an extreme urge to withdraw and just get as f**ked up as humanly possible. I hate everybody. I don’t think anyone cares about anyone but themselves. I question why I have so much hate in my heart. Maybe it’s not hate. Maybe it’s anger. I’m very, very angry- with everything that’s happening- Las Vegas and that fucking asshole who thought his purpose in life was to hurt as many people as he possibly could, everyone dying- people in Vegas and Jason on the trail, all the abuse, maltreatment, and downright evil in this world…and I’m angry at God for allowing these things to happen.

I hate everything and everyone right now. And why can’t people just understand when someone wants to die?! Why can’t people just let it happen and respect us? Truthfully, part of me wants help and part of me wants to be left alone. 

I’m going to cancel meeting with the therapist. I can’t talk about what I need to and it’ll drive me fucking crazy.  It’s useless. Nothing’s working. Everything is useless. People aren’t reliable. God’s not even reliable- why would I be stupid enough to expect people to be? 

I thought things were getting better for a bit there. I really did. 
I fucking hate my life. I do. 

Fuck this. Fuck you. Fuck everything. I’m so sick of this. 

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Published September 27, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I’m trying so hard to be positive. And frankly, I think I’ve been doing a really good job of it lately. It is so difficult though. I feel like I’m pretending with even myself. I have no one here anyway. Today- I don’t know why- I just kept breaking down crying. I kept sucking it up, saying everything was fine….lying to myself. 

I’m doing what I can to distract myself…really going out of my way to do so. And yet, I find that self-medication is a daily occurrence. I feel a million miles away from everyone…from every thing. 

I feel like this will never end. I heard a Korn song today that said:

“It ain’t fading 

Man I gotta let it out

Am I crazy?

Screaming- nothing ever comes out

I keep feeling lost

I’ll never find my way out

I’m not thanking them

Unless the truth can pour out

Give me some courage

Beating me down now for some time

Are you laughing? Am I funny?

I hate inside,

I hate inside.

I’ll take this time

To let out what’s inside

Cause I will break

Sometimes I wish you’d die

Full of sorrow

You raped and stole my pride.

And all this hate is bottled up inside

My heart’s breaking

Man you really ripped it out

You take pleasure watching as

I claw my way out

The hurt rising

Soon it’s gonna tear my soul out

It’s not kosher feeling like I’m on my way out

Give me some courage

Beating me down now for some time

Are you laughing? Am I funny?

I hate inside,

I hate inside.

I’ll take this time

To let out what’s inside

Cause I will break

Sometimes I wish you’d die

Full of sorrow

You raped and stole my pride.

And all this hate is bottled up inside

Feeling the haze as they cut down my spine

Peeling your flesh like the way you’ve cut mine

Do you feel happy? You fucked up my mind

You’re going to pay this time!

I’ll take this time

To let out what’s inside

Cause I will break

Sometimes I wish you’d die

Full of sorrow

You raped and stole my pride.

And all this hate is bottled up inside”


EMDR

Published August 18, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I feel so weird. Extraordinarily detached. I’m not feeling a thing. My thoughts seem to float. Detached. No connection. The perfect time Too easy.

Shame is what we focused on- being ashamed of who my father is…that I’m so closely related to a sexual predator, a criminal.

I saw myself walking on the sidewalk next to the building where I work. This massive black tar-like substance began slowing oozing down from the entire building. It was one giant encompassing entity. I think it was shame. It suddenly changed from slow moving to a quickly engulfing tidal wave that swept me up into a whirlpool. A deep black whirlpool. I was caught up in the enormous swirling blackness. Then I noticed the sky turning white. It was a stark contrast to the blackness of the giant whirlpool. I thought maybe the white sky might be God. I saw a red rose floating around in a downward trajectory. I want to die so I laid back in the black whirlpool and floated on my back- giving up, wanting to drown or be swallowed up by this. 

The rose drifted down and landed on my chest. I was distracted by it- I kept looking at it laying on my chest, but also kept laying my head back and floating, in an effort to give up. I realized the rose was sticking to my chest- like the tentacles of an octopus. I tried prying an edge of it off- one rose petal- and as soon as I let go, it would reattach itself. 

I remembered that the red rose had made an appearance before, but I can’t remember what I thought it represented. This time I kept getting the phrase, “Word of God” over and over and I kept picturing my new Bible. So perhaps the rose that’s attached itself to my chest represents the Word of God. As I realize that, I think it begins to embed itself in me. 

I notice the black whirlpool begins to swirl with a milky white liquid, mixing with the blackness. The white seems to overtake the black and soon the whirlpool is white with only traces of blackness through it. 

The spinning of the whirlpool begins to slow. I hadn’t noticed before, but the level of it had lowered. The next thing I know, I’m laying on the wet ground- soggy grass wet with a milky white substance. The waters of the whirlpool had so gently dissipated that I barely noticed it. 

I don’t want to get up- I’m curious to see what’s around me, but I feel lazy, maybe just exhausted- I don’t want to even lift my head. I feel like God is telling me to get up and go. But I don’t want to. It becomes clear that it’s ok for me to stay there for a while and as I do, the grass becomes less and less soggy as the milky liquid is absorbed into the ground. 

I can’t remember correctly. 

I think I sit up and begin to look around and I see nothing in all directions around me. I see a weird scene as short, sharp grass seems to be in blue ground. The word “wasteland” comes to mind. There’s  nothing out there in any direction. It’s a barren wasteland. As I stand up, the landscape turns more and more bleak. There’s still nothing but everything continues to dry up- like the desert of Mad Max and the Thunderdome. I look down as I feel something heavy and awkward on my feet. I see sandals on my feet- but super old school ones like Jesus would wear. I feel something in my hand but I can’t see it clearly. It feels like a heavy Bible or something- but an old leather covered one. The ground has now turned into a dry orange sand.

I can’t determine which way to go- which way God wants me to go. No matter where I turn, every direction looks the same. I think God needs to show me which way to go. I also think this is a long arduous journey- one that will take a while and that I clearly don’t have much to survive with. I see a vertical sliver of light off in the distance and think that must be the way to go. I slowly begin to move toward it. Again, I look down at my feet, the old sandals, and feel this big book-like thing cupped in my hand. I feel underequipped for what’s ahead. 

As I move forward, two big masses of blackness come from either side up in the sky. They develop and swirl like clouds- but they reach from the top of the sky to the ground and even cover parts of the ground. They’re ominous and threatening. I can still see a path to follow in the sand though. I can still look above the blackness and see the little sliver of light to follow. So I continue. 

Then…giant evil faces emerge from the blackness. On both sides, I see deep red eyes and huge, deep red grimaces. They’re laughing at me and threatening me. I hear the word “black” over and over rhythmically and as I do, I picture my wrist, a gun, my wrist, laying back floating in the ocean, Chicago, my wrist, ….

I can now see nothing but blackness. It’s grown to cover every inch of the ground. The path is obscured. Images of suicide are everywhere…surrounding and engulfing me.

*

Published August 13, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I wrote a long post last night and was too embarrassed to publish it. It was about feeling unwanted, left out, and not fitting in. 

I have no handle, like no idea what’s wrong with me. I mean, I know what issues I’m dealing with. I just don’t understand how that reflects or translates on to the public or relationships. 

My thought is that If I survive this (which is not likely), then I’ll be destined to a life of a recluse. I just don’t see it panning out any other way. 

I have nothing to offer anyone. Even to someone who’s hurting…it should be relatively easy to help or do something that can make a hurting person’s day better. Am I wrong? Maybe I am. I’m just so empty inside. Hollow isn’t even a strong enough word to describe it…it’s more like a huge vacuum. I just have absolutely nothing to offer. 

I’m on a plane right now and we’re over the ocean. I think how beautiful it is and how much I wish our plane would go down. I surely don’t want to hurt anyone else, but it seems fitting for my life to end. 

Defunct. This is the word I think of when I think of how I’m going to keep functioning in society. Things are getting worse and worse. I’m getting worse and worse. More and more depressed, more dysfunctional in relationships, more socially dysfunctional, less able to function as an adult. God. This is why I don’t see anything ending “well.” 

I feel like I’m beyond help. No one can fix this. 

Bound to be free

Published July 26, 2017 by Chloe Madison

I have had this visual in my head for a long time now. My wrists are bound by a strong impenetrable rope. Hands are on my face and my chest, pushing on me and holding me down as I fight back. I decide that I can win the fight if only I can free my hands. But the rope is like steel- it won’t ever break. So I see that the only way to get free is to sever my own hands. I begin the process of twisting my wrists back and forth against the friction of the rope. It burns as it tears at my skin. I know this rope, as strong as steel, will wear away at my bones too. Once I sever my hands, I can be free.