I'm still here

Almost wasn't. It's been a rough couple of months. I think the meds and the therapy helped for a while, but it seems to have stopped. I am overwhelmed with dread, and I still have these "episodes" of absolute gut-wrenching horror, like I know something's out to get me, but I also no there's nothing. At least, not any more.
I've been drawing a lot, and my therapist thinks I should get them professionally published and eventually talk to a "survivors" group, or something like that. I don't think I'll ever be ready for something like that, not when I can't even utter the few sentences it would take to just tell him what happened. He seems to think that something much worse had happened to me when I was a toddler, and it has something to do with the fact that I literally deleted my father's head.
I have avoided a lot of the problematic facebook pages, the ones that publish the blatant child pornography. But every once in a while, I'll stumble on a page chock-full of it, and I freeze. I report every photo, the page, send feedback and send the link to the Center for Missing & Exploited Children, and I make my way upstairs with shaking limbs so I can just sit and hide in the closet in my bathroom until the terror goes. The offending pages usually are deleted shortly after that, but...some of those pages have 10K+ "likes." And it makes me hate every single stranger I see, every face I don't know could be a potential predator. It's a silly, stupid and unpractical thought, but it's always there.
Anyway, I just wanted to drop a line to let you guys know I'm still here, still kicking, and always fighting. But sometimes it's so hard to keep fighting, ya know? I just want things to go back to normal, back when I had successfully separated myself from the abuse and molestations. The doc and the therapist said that there is no going back to that, and all the drugs in the world don't seem to do a damn thing about it. It would be so easy to give up. This world is full of monsters dressed like human beings.
Oh well.

Bless your heart. What you need is a big, gentle hug. I wish I could give you one.

Do you KNOW what happened when you were little, or did you block it out? If you know, it would certainly be cleansing, and HEALTHY to tell your therapist about it. It would stop the horrors, even tho it would be painful to tell. If you could find the strength to tell, please do.

If you can't remember, it may take some time in therapy before you do. I'm so glad you ARE in therapy. Please don't stop therapy, even tho you think it isn't helping right now. When I was in therapy, there was a time I too thought I'd hit the wall -- but I hadn't. There was more to come, and I'm sure there is for you too.

God bless you my friend and please stay with us, okay? We're behind you 100%. Keep us informed, okay? And you might want to stop in on the Survivors of Abuse forum -- believe me, that forum could help you! Hugs, Lee

MamaIm glad you are still here. PTSD is a tough one to deal with, but it can get better. It took me years to process all the triggers, but I am finally living a someone normal life. I am agoraphobic, because that is a big bad scary world out there, but I am functioning again. Don't give up. There is light at the end of the tunnel.

Thanks guys. Leed, something so horrific happened when I was around 3 or 4 that I had created "monsters" to cope with what was done to me. I think it was the only way my fragile toddler mind could deal with it, because back then, grownups were to be trusted; they could NEVER be "monsters." A lot of what happened there is foggy at best. My father picked me up by my hair and threw me 10 or 15 feet across the room and into a wall. Mom thought he had killed me...it was all because I tried to stop them from fighting and I wanted lunch. (Like I said, I literally deleted his face from my mind; all I can see is him sitting on a chair, wrapping a leather belt around his hands and then there's just darkness where his head should be). I know that mental illness runs rampant on my father's side of the family, and I worry so much for my own son. At least I sheltered him enough to keep him from the terrible things my sisters and I had to live through.

I know what happened when I was 5. I found out the hard way that my aunt's husband was a pedo, but I didn't realize what it meant back then. Now, if I try to speak it out loud, my throat literally closes up and it feels like I'm being strangled from the inside out and once it starts, it's so painful that I freeze. I informed my doc and therapist that *IF* I was able to move during one of these episodes, I really would end myself just to escape the terror, but "lucky" for me, I can't move once it's begun.

What kills me is a year ago, before my break down, I could totally say what had happened because I had still disconnected myself from the event - it was like watching it happen to someone else. Once my "coping mechanisms" failed (no thanks to all of those horrific facebook pictures and pages), it was like I was back there, literally reliving the terror of a child and seeing it all in its technicolor horror. I can talk "around" it, and even then, it gets a little nerve-wracking.

I think I might write it down on a piece of paper and give it to my therapist. I draw so many pictures, I wish there was a way I could post them here but I can't seem to figure it out. They're dark, but they kind of explain what's in my mind. He thinks a lot of it's metaphoric, and it doesn't really make sense until he explains it back to me. I just thought I was doodling down the monsters from my nightmares.

Anyway, thanks again. I'm sorry I haven't posted in so long, I forgot my password and lost the website from my toolbar thingamabobber. I finally found it yesterday, and not a day too soon.

I'm so sorry you have been through what you have. Good luck in your life.