anger

All posts tagged anger

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”

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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 March 23, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I have actually slept super well for the last 3 nights in a row! I’ve slept long and deeply. I woke up only about 4 times each night- that’s a world record for this past year and a half.

I am so grateful. I’m still so, so exhausted that I came home from work yesterday and crashed- took a nap and then still slept through the night. I’ve only got a year and a half of sleep to catch up on. 🙂

Lots of dreaming, but very few nightmares. So that’s good. My therapist and I decided not to do EMDR again because she thinks I’m still processing with all the nightmares I previously had. Next week is spring break- so maybe the idea of vacation time is helping me to relax as well. (?) I don’t know.

My therapist said she thought I was doing too much to keep my mind occupied. The studying, the chase, and the hiking every weekend…she thought maybe I’m not giving my brain enough down time to process and that’s why I was still processing things through nightmares.

We talked a lot about my friend who relapsed. She thinks I have issues of my own that came up when things with him started happening. I guess him being mean or rude to his wife brought up my past with my ex who was pretty abusive psychologically, emotionally, and verbally. Only rarely did it turn into physical abuse. Catching him cheat on me was just the cherry on top. I do still have a lot of hurt and anger from that. I know that every time my ex was enraged with me, it was never my fault and it was never justified. I guess that’s why my friend being mean to his wife is ruffling my feathers so much now. I love the guy and care deeply for both him and his wife…but I cannot, cannot, absolutely canNOT handle a man mistreating a woman. I just can’t do it anymore. I’ve seen it my whole life and I hate it. I’m sick to my stomach about him doing it- I guess because I’d looked at him as a good, Christian guy. I’m not saying he isn’t. But it’s just a huge let down. He and his wife took good care of my little dog for me when I was in the hospital. I’m so appreciative of that and grateful for them welcoming me with open arms and zero judgment. I need to extend the same to him.

I have a friend coming in town to visit tomorrow. I’m looking forward to it, but I’m super scared. Either I hide who I am and all the terrible things I’m dealing with- or I’m open and honest. Obviously, he could reject me as crazy or needy or any number of things I’m scared people will judge me as. I have quite a bit of hesitation with seeing him- but at the same time, he’ll occupy about a third of my spring break- so that’s great. I don’t think I need to be alone. That’s never good. Not recently, anyway.

And the sanctuary, the shelter that I’ve been envisioning…I’d love to be able to open a Christian camp in the remote mountains. I was thinking part of it could be a place that church groups could go to for retreats- youth groups or men’s or women’s groups. The other part of it though- that’s what I’m focusing in on- the other part would be a safe haven for victims of human trafficking and/ or sex trafficking. It would be a safe place that’s remote so they have no fear of anyone they escaped from finding them and where they’d feel confident walking around outside, enjoying nature. I envision having group meetings and even counseling/ therapy for them. Maybe have a full-time therapist on staff? That would be awesome. I’d like to give a beautiful, safe place to people who need it- who need some where to go for months or even a year- to recover, to learn to live again, to learn to feel safe again. I was thinking of offering training in some kind of trade as well- so they could sustain themselves and make a living on their own.

I don’t know- it’s just a dream. I keep envisioning it in this peaceful river valley that I’ve been driving through these last few weekends.

So…there’s that.

Please pray for my friend and his wife.

Published March 18, 2018 by Chloe Madison

Oph. Nightmares have been unreal. And unrelenting. Last night I had several. The most notable was when a friend killed me. The killer’s face in my dream actually kept switching back and forth between two different people, both friends of mine. At one point, my friend/ the killer was threatening my life. I retorted with the fact that he should go ahead- he’d be doing me a favor. Smh.

I’m not quite sure why the last 2 days have been so difficult. My sleep has been so interrupted and when I do sleep, it’s nothing but nightmares. I’ve been overly emotional these last few days as well. When I was hiking this weekend, I kept breaking down crying. Hiking and crying doesn’t mix. I’m not gonna lie. I thought of ***** and ***** quite a bit out there.

These last two weeks have actually been GOOD. I was beginning to get hopeful that I was on my way out of this dark mire. But now I’m not so sure. I keep wanting to stay away from people and keep them away from me. I just want to be left alone and yet I absolutely despise it. I actually hate, hate, hate being alone. It’s just a safe place to recoil to.

Up on the mountain, I was begging God to be with me. He wasn’t. I asked out loud over and over throughout the hours, “God, are you there?” I tried to humor myself by replying to my own question with a sound effect of lightning striking. I thought I was funny. But that didn’t change the fact that I was alone up there.

I don’t know why I cried so much. Both today- during church again- and all day yesterday.

The only thing I can think of is that I’m wrestling with how I view people- and men, in particular.

I know my abusers have been men. Throughout my life, I tried to be normal and be in relationships, but my two most serious relationships ended because I was being cheated on. So I haven’t had the best men in my life- obviously including my own father. And I even think of my grandfather who was a verbally abusive a-hole.

I’ve tried to counteract this and combat it by looking to good men in my life. I think of a teacher I had in high school who I fantasized would marry my mom and be my dad. He was gay and and I chuckle, knowing even back then that my little fantasy would never happen. But I wonder if him being gay is what made him feel so safe. He would never hurt me. Beyond that, he was a gentle, sweet old man. And I love that about him. I was crushed when I ran into him a decade later and he didn’t remember me.

I fondly remember my youth pastors and how awesome they were. They were great examples of Christian men and they were fun and loving and just plain awesome. Then, after my teenage years, I ran into a void of good men. I stopped going to church and didn’t exactly surround myself with the best people. I was involved in the music/ rock scene and saw every single guy use women nonstop for sex. It was unreal. There was even one band I know who have special backstage passes made for girls called “Chicken Head” passes. It’s a lewd reference to girls giving oral sex. I mean, how much more degrading can you get?! And I’d see guys laugh about that.

Then, I started coming back to church. And I came into contact with my former pastor. He’s an amazing man. I love the guy to pieces. He told me he thinks of me as one of his daughters and I loved that. I miss him a lot. He’s the one who said my dad was a monster. But he was a pillar of strength to me and a source of encouragement through long, daily emails for years and years. Both he and his wife are phenomenal people.

And then I moved out of state. It took me several years to find a good church. And almost immediately, I found a guy at that church who was a great, trustworthy person. He’s my 911 friend. I love how he interacts with people and how he cares for and loves his wife and family- and everyone else, for that matter. He’s the most recent person I’ve tried to use as someone to look to as a good example of what a good, Christian man should be like.

My 911 friend kept pushing me to stay with another couple. I didn’t have the heart to tell him that I didn’t trust the guy. There were stories of him being violent towards his wife when he used to use drugs and I could never fully let that go. It’s disturbing and highly alarming to me if any person has the potential to hurt another when not in self defense. That’s not ok. It never will be. I kept trying to tell myself that this guy is no longer a drug user, that it’s in his past, it’s not who he is anymore. But I still felt threatened. And now, in the last two weeks, I’ve seen him relapse. It’s not his relapse that’s so disturbing. It’s his mistreatment of his wife while he was actually sober. He treated her like dirt and continues to- even when he’s not high. THAT is what I’m struggling with. Of course, I’m worried for his relapse and don’t want him going down that road. But I can’t believe- I’m actually shocked- that his verbal, emotional, and psychological abuse of his wife is coming when he’s sober. I don’t know what to make of that. Part of me feels justified in how I never fully trusted him and this IS EXACTLY why. But part of me feels guilty…that I should be forgiving. He’s not remorseful though. He doesn’t see anything wrong with how he mistreats and “punishes” his wife. And that makes me question why she stays with him. If it were me, I’d dip out in a second. But hey, maybe that’s why I’m not in a relationship. I absolutely cannot handle a man being cruel or abusive in any way, shape, or form. I just can’t do it.

And we…women…shouldn’t have to! Why do women put up with this? Because they love the guy? Because they’re stuck in a marriage and they don’t want to dishonor God by divorcing? Smh. This pisses me off.

And frankly, seeing all this unravel with this guy and his wife has made me lose HUGE amounts of hope in humanity and in men, in general.

And I think that’s part of what’s bothering me so much. It was him in my dream who was killing me. Him and someone else.

And then I have compassion. And I see his demons and how they’re fighting to take over his life. And I know we have the same demons. We’ve both been sexually abused, among other things. I see him relapse and I see that there’s no way out for people like us. There’s no hope for us. We claw and crawl our way up out of the pit, only to be drug right back down again in an instant. This is weighing so heavily on me. We are not in control. Satan is. You can’t fight that. There’s no winning. If God wanted us to get away, he would have done that already. But he hasn’t.

Published February 22, 2018 by Chloe Madison

I had a horrible nightmare last night. I think I triggered it myself with my previous blog. In my dream, I was hospitalized again and it was absolutely terrible. It was (and still is-my heart is racing as I’m writing this) the feelings that came along in the dream that were the worst.

The only good thing was that my former pastor, Mike, was there. He made a brief appearance and in my dream, he worked in the hospital. He wasn’t much encouragement though. I was asking him if I’d be out in 3 days and he told me that the assessment takes 3 days and THEN your time starts! I was mortified. Obviously, this ties back into the fact that I was hospitalized for way more than the minimum 3 days last time. I also remember being enraged and feeling everything was unfair when I found out that in real life, you don’t even need to stay the minimum of 3 days. They can let you out earlier than that. I was told that the hospital I was at was known for NOT letting people out because it affected them getting paid. I was told that if they didn’t keep people for over the minimum, then they got paid nothing by insurance companies. I find this hard to believe, but it makes sense in that they kept me there despite my protests to leave. F**k that place. I’m so pissed off that I’m still paying them…and the fact that I HAVE to pay them even though I refused to go there!!!

Anyway, the other goofy thing in my dream was that we did ballet. I have to admit that was humorous to me when I woke up. And one bad thing was that some of the same people were there who were there in real life. Someone asked me how the girl was who committed suicide. They didn’t know because they had been locked up and had no contact. I had to break the news that she was now deceased. That was terrible.

Even though my 911 friend doesn’t read here anymore, clearly I’m still feeling a ton of fear related to what I say here. So let me make things clear so I can feel some relief. I HAVE NO BAD PLANS. Am I depressed? Absolutely. Do I think about it? Yes. Do I have plans? No! Absolutely not. There is no need to worry. How about you love on me and not lock me up? Huh? How about that? Why give me fear and nightmares instead of showing me love and compassion? That’s what I need. That’s what any victim needs. No one needs to be fucking locked up against their will. That fucks you up beyond belief.

I’m fine. Am I back and forth in my thoughts? Yes. But I am the farthest I’ve been from doing something in over a year. Over a year! My thoughts really are steering away from that. Maybe that’s not apparent in my writing because I write when I’m most depressed. And yes, I’m most certainly depressed and alone and struggling. No doubt. But I can promise everyone who reads here that I won’t do a thing. Honest…I promise. I have had urges to cut- but that’s it. Nothing beyond that.

I still feel that no matter what I say here, I can still get taken away against my will. I have so much terror from that- I’m not sure I can ever get beyond it. I do know that I have no idea where I will move to when my lease is up, but wherever I go- not a soul will know my new address. I won’t even forward mail. Fuck that. If that’s what I have to do to make myself feel safe again, then I’ll do it.

I doubt I’ll feel safe again though. That fear is always there. Every cop I see, my heart stops. Every time I see flashing lights or hear a siren, my heart stops. And I live across the street from a fire station. This happens all day and all night. I told myself I’d get used to it. Well…it’s been 4 months and my stomach shoots straight up into my throat every time I hear those sirens.

I don’t want to have to live with this fear. This fear that causes nightmares because I wrote a blog and mentioned my thoughts. That’s not right. I had enough fear I was dealing with before. Now, it overrides and overwhelms my life. I used to feel part of the blue brotherhood. Not any more. I’m scared of them now. I stay away. I don’t belong anymore. I wish I could hang with everyone and reminisce about Zack. But I can’t. I don’t belong anymore. And with feeling so isolated and alone before my hospitalization, I surely didn’t need something else to make me feel even more fear and more isolation. Fuck that.

Published February 11, 2018 by Chloe Madison

There is so much wrong with me- physically, emotionally, psychologically. I am so confused. I feel like I don’t know what’s going on around me. I don’t know how I function at work. As a matter of fact, I’ve been terribly ineffective and unproductive at work. I’d like to blame depression and being preoccupied with suicide, but it’s my fault no matter which way you look at it.

Today’s sermon was so full of stuff. I cried during it. A few times. I zoned out a few times, but I think I heard most of it- which is a miracle. I feel like most everything said was specifically for me. One of the things my pastor talked about was persistence vs. perfection. How we need to press on in spite of everything. I’m so horrible at that. It’s part of why I feel God has given up on me. Because I gave up on me. I’m not persisting anymore in anything, including my faith. I also feel so strongly that God is disappointed in me because I’m not good enough. I know I carry that from my own parents. I constantly tried so hard over and over to win the affection of my parents with good grades. Even as an adult, when I won 3 awards in police academy, I gave them to my mom and told her I did it for her. I just wanted her approval. She gave the awards back to me. She didn’t want them. That was 4 years ago. I know God is disappointed in me because I’ve been so terrible lately. I’ve been so self-centered, angry, pissy, impatient…and I’ve wanted to give up the life He has given me. I’ve wanted to quit and run away from it all. There’s no way God is pleased with that. I think that’s why He’s not pursuing me anymore. That was part of this morning’s sermon too. But that’s definitely something I have not felt from God in months. I can even draw the line- my hospitalization or right before it. That’s when I last felt loved and pursued by God. Could it be that once I was hospitalized that He no longer wants anything to do with me either?? It honestly wouldn’t surprise me. I feel branded- like a homeless person- the stigma of having been hospitalized bleeds through to every aspect of my life. So many people have rejected me because of that. I fear so many more will do so if they ever find out.

This is a song we sang in church today. Ok, everyone else sang. I listened and felt. I like this song a lot. It speaks volumes to me. But it’s not entirely true. God, I wish it was. The idea of God chasing us down- every word of the bridge to this song…I wish it were true. But God has given up on me. Everyone has. Including myself. I don’t blame anyone. How can I? I’ve given up too. Hell, I was the first one to give up. I’m so thankful for those in the very near past who helped me feel God’s love. But it’s not there anymore.

Verse 1

Before I spoke a word, You were singing over me

You have been so, so good to me

Before I took a breath, You breathed Your life in me

You have been so, so kind to me

Chorus

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Oh, it chases me down, fights ‘til I’m found, leaves the ninety-nine

I couldn’t earn it, I don’t deserve it, still You give Yourself away

Oh, the overwhelming, never-ending, reckless love of God

Verse 2

When I was Your foe, still Your love fought for me

You have been so, so good to me

When I felt no worth, You paid it all for me

You have been so, so kind to me

Bridge

There’s no shadow You won’t light up

Mountain You won’t climb up

Coming after me

There’s no wall You won’t kick down

Lie You won’t tear down

Coming after me

Will God chase after me? Not anymore. He’s done with me.

I’ve had such messed up dreams lately. I spent the entire weekend in a sleepy fog. I took a bunch of different kinds of sleeping pills. Some make you fall asleep, others keep you asleep. I need those last ones so badly, but I don’t dare take them during the week. I’d never wake up on time and I can’t afford to jeopardize my job by being late. I love taking those on the weekends though. It makes the weekends entirely unproductive, but it helps to pass the time without me doing something even more reckless or destructive.

Most of my dreams are of finding murdered bodies and then being wary of everyone else in the dream, not knowing if they’re the killer or not. That makes sense as I don’t trust anyone. I had one semi-normal dream- the first time I ever dreamed of my 911 friend. He was doing a sermon in my church, but in weird dream-like fashion, it was bizarre. It was more like game time for youth group kids or something. We didn’t talk in my dream…I just sank down in my seat and hid among the crowd, just like I do in church. After that, he disappeared and church did too and everything turned into a weird classroom where I was one of very few students in a large, empty room that didn’t seem to have a ceiling. We kept moving our desks out of the sunlight coming in through the giant windows because it was blinding. Then, everything turned into a dark, nighttime environment- almost like a post-apocalyptic scene. In that scene, I was searching for treasure under a rotten, old trailer. Then, there was the part of the dream where I was explaining spectroscopy to someone and it’s uses in astronomy and the study of the composition of distant objects in space. I woke up missing studying astronomy. 😂 It’s absolutely fascinating. Anyway, I slept and dreamed away the entire weekend. Mission accomplished.

I was so, so angry on Friday. One of the young people I work with shared her story of being sexually abused with others. I’ve mentioned her before and she had privately shared her story with me, but she went into greater detail this time. I think I couldn’t handle it and maybe that’s why I was in such a foul mood that day. God, I could easily have ***** ****** that day. She had been molested from age 6-12. Age SIX THROUGH TWELVE. What in the actual ****?! Her uncle did it whenever he came over. She said every birthday, every Christmas, every holiday that her family would have him over- he molested her. She talked about the first time it happened in a shed outside their trailer. That’s why I hate sheds- those are some of the most heinous, evil places. I flashed back right then as she spoke. I swear, if I ever met her uncle face to face, I’d wind up in jail. I honestly don’t think I could control my rage against him. What kind of a “man” takes advantage of a little girl? What kind of person hurts those who can’t defend themselves?? It just brings such hate in my heart for people like that. I know God isn’t pleased with that, but this is where I’m at. I think of ways to deal with this- like clinging to the idea of the very few men I know who are good people… but I doubt even them sometimes. Even when I do have faith in them, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough. This is why I want to leave this God forsaken world…because God really has forsaken us.