Trigger warning: this post contains references to traumatic sexual abuse
The last year has been both tough and amazing. Those of you following for a while know about my journey and my striving to come to terms with the terrible abuse that has blighted my life. I was born into a family that had (has) a culture of grooming its young for secret service, a culture that goes back some generations. The abuse was organised, partially ritualised and very cleverly hidden. It was also opportunistic. The only reasons I wasn't murdered are because it would have been difficult to cover up and it would have been a waste of years of training. I heard them talking about it.
I first started my journey of remembering when my daughter was born. I was twenty-five and I began to get flashes of things that had happened twenty and more years before. What I didn't realise at that stage, and thank the good Goddess I didn't, was that the worst of the abuse had only been over for five years.
Now at fifty, the last of the protective denial has melted away and for the last couple of months I've been locked in a kind of battle with my angry self. When I pick up a knife to butter my toast it is a potential defensive weapon. When I sweep out a cupboard it becomes a good place to hide should I need it. When my leg mysteriously hurts it is my body remembering the chafing of the tether. If I feel like ending my life, it is a way of denying them their pleasure as well as ending my suffering. Suddenly this all makes sense.
This is tough reading I know. But I have to speak out.
I've recently found out about something called Dissociative Identity Disorder (DID) Follow the link for a very good explanation. I think it describes very well what has happened to me and how I have survived it, because DID is a way of coping. Having a model is very helpful and this model is much better than the old 'Multiple Personality Disorder' description as that is rather misleading.
'Jo Blogs' will now change its focus. I've been sure for some time that my CFS is a manifestation of my trauma. I am not here to convince you that it is the only reason for CFS. Now I am sure it is the reason for my CFS, and I am going to redirect my recovery towards the reintegration of my damaged selves. My writing will reflect that.
My aim is to be strong enough to bring these men to justice. I may never achieve it but even if one person reads this and knows they are no longer alone, it will have been worth it.