I fear the dark.  Every evening as the sun is setting it puts me in a sheer panic.  That's when "it" came.  Creeping into my bedroom, blinding me with undescribeable pain and agony.  And then the torture, failed attempts to kill me and the endless hours of physical and sexual abuse.  The darkness swallowed me up.  Leaving me more vunerable and alone.  Why didn't one of the neighbors wake up and see the lights on that late?  Why did it have to be so hot and humid that night, so that everyone's windows were shut tight with the air conditioning running?  A lot of "why's" and no answers.

It's strange that night fall here at home has a comfortable feel to it.  Familiarity perhaps?  I know I don't feel the same way when I am somewhere else.  I don't recognize the shadows.  Unfamiliar creeks and groans from buildings.  The strange rustling of the leaves.  I am way out of my element. 

And yet, I can't wait to go out in the black swirl.  I have found solice in the darkness.  Each day has me wondering if I will be able to escape...to walk about cloaked, un-noticed, almost carefree.  Yes, I find comfort in that, that scares me the most.  By days end I am weary of being cheerful.  I don't want to smile, yet I am painfully aware how my face hurts from the forced upturned mouth.  I am supposed to be pleasant and present a put together person.  I have to be a nice, loving and caring individual.  A productive citizen.  When all I want to do is rage.  Curl up in a ball and cry.  Or just lay there, breathing in and out.  

This isn't a pity party by any means.  It's just that everything has changed inside me and around me.  Friends and family have moved on.  They barely notice when things aren't quite right.  Or I'm in a mood.  I silently fell apart around my fourth year anniversary and no one hardly noticed.  Guess I've gotten good at hiding things.  And that's why I welcome the night.  No one can see me.  I don't have to pretend, or smile or be happy.  I can just be.  Painfully aware of all the changes and yet unable to adjust to or reverse them.  Once again I can be swallowed up...inconspicuous.  

Yes, the dark still terrifies me.  But I guess the solice and comfort of the dark has a bigger draw.  Is it possible to be terrified and comforted at the same time?  To be draw to the invisibleness of the black and yet so petrified it can freeze me in my tracks?     

I was going to blog about something completely different, but when I selected the "category" under which this entry would be placed it occured to me that maybe there needs to be another selection.  Survivor?  Do any of you really feel like you've survived?  Survived what?  Yes, I look in the mirror and see  myself.  But am I really there?  I haven't recognized the person in the mirror for a very long time.  My outlook on life has completely changed.  My attitudes have changed.  My personality has changed.  Etc., etc.  I call that a forced adjustment, not surviving.  Those who are still in my life as friends have occasionally said "just let it go".  "Wake up and choose to have a good outlook and attitude toward the day".  I used to argue with them when they would say those well meaning antidotes.  I felt it was my place and my duty to correct and inform.  Now, I quietly feel sorry for them.  I know they mean well, and feel they should say those things.  Society has conditioned us to.  But a well meaning hug and complete silence at that moment would go so much further. 

I realize that the raw assault on my psyche over what has happened isn't so debilitating as it was.  Although there are still incidences and sometimes complete days where that is questionable.  Does time get the credit for that or have I slowly built the protective armor back up?  Either way I don't consider myself a survivor.  Maybe I'm someone who has somewhat accepted the "new norm" and is trying to piece together my fragmented existence.  Trying to make sense of this life that I didn't ask for and would gladly exchange.  Or someone who is simply trying to limp through the day, trying not to get caught up in the well meaning direction friends are pushing you toward.  Take the time to look up the meaning of survivor in the dictionary.  You'll be surprised.  The word "live" keeps coming up in the definition.  Is this living? 

Greetings fellow survivors and supporters.  It's been over a year since I've been on this site.  Believe me when I say it's not been by choice.  I have missed being connected to others who have walked the path I've walked.  There is a comfort and support that comes from being with others who understand without saying a word.  To anyone new here, welcome.  This is by far the best site for just that...support.  And venting!  I will be doing much of that in the days to come.  A year's worth of stuffing has left me weary and tired.  Will talk to you soon!