The Abused One survives abuse many cannot see. In the hand of the Abuser, the Abused One is hit and bruised and shoved against walls and sexually bound to the Abuser. I wouldn't say it if it were not so. The Abused One is not allowed to cry or express emotions but the rage wells up. Even then, thoughts of murder take over the Abused One's mind and the days are counted when that can become a reality.
There are so many opinions about how to heal from childhood abuse. I (Abused One) have learned to use several of them in different lands of recovery. Some sound a bit odd, some sound like they came from the wizards of old, some originated from the Bible, some are from the ancient ruins and some I've discovered along my journey walking on the side of the road.
What looked like a weed transformed my troubled self into someone who could continue walking no matter how slow the pace or how muddy the path. The cloak that covered me from danger also kept me warm when the sun hid behind the clouds. The Elven bread that had no taste at all gave my body nourishment.
And I think well meaning folk forget that sort of thing. My recovery began early - age 14. I gave my life to Jesus - age 20. I attempted suicide and ended up in the hospital several times, I was in three different inpatient and outpatient hospitals, I've had six therapists and three psychiatrists (the last therapist and psychiatrist for over three years). I self-injure but I don't cut anymore, I'll have 7 years of sobriety in July, I've had two major back surgeries, my highest weight was 247 and now it's 222, I've lost 10 pounds since changing my meds and what I eat.
It's not easy to be or become my friend. It's not easy to stay my friend. My mom puts it this way, "It's hard to be Amy's friend because of all she goes through." Mental Illness is not easy. What I have is beyond challenging. I don't talk easily and when I do I usually shake. I like to live alone with my cats. I take my direction from God and only consider other things from people I trust. Even then it's a maybe. One friend said, "You suffer in silence, don't you?" Yes I do and I prefer it stay that way.
The people at inpatient are my people.
We understand each other on a deep and personal level that doesn't require many words.
We love Jello.
We participate in Groups.
There's a level of acceptance.
If I were feeling sad and drifted into oncoming traffic and died, they'd understand. Sometimes, you just get tired of life. But since I haven't done that or any other wacko ideas, I'd have to say when God said to me, "Amy, it's not time for you to come home yet," I believed Him.
He's my Heavenly Father.
He's the one I trust the most.
He has my whole heart.
He's never been one of my Abusers.
This is Aaron's fourth day: Day 4 of Aaron's Death
