Unspeakable Pain (digital collage)

When Will This Be Over? (Sonnet)

My head shoved in the bookcase like a box,
Him reaming me like crazy from behind,
The banging of the headboard as it rocks,
The screaming pain that makes me lose my mind.
"This is for my kids," I say, and shut up,
I don't want them to awake from their sleep.
The pain, the feelings, they all just got stuffed,
I wish I had the luxury to weep.
When will this be over? When will it end --
The remembering of all that he did?
How did I always force my mind to bend
Around the memories I quickly hid?
God help me, I can't deal with all this pain.
I'm tired of living it over again.

Freeflow Journaling Through a Flashback or Body Memory

I've found that sometimes there's no escaping from the grip of an intense memory (especially if it's sensory-related). Although deep breathing, progressive muscle relaxation, and meditation help a little bit sometimes, I've discovered that in some cases there's nothing I can do except "hold on for the ride."

One tool that I've found useful is what I call "freeflow journalling." I've heard others refer to it as "freewriting." Basically whatever thoughts, sensations, words, images, etc come to mind, I write it down -- without worrying about using proper punctuation & grammar (or even whether or not it "makes sense," for that matter).

There are several reasons I've found this helpful:

1) It gives me something to do while I "ride out" the traumatic memory.
2) It helps me sort through what happened afterward so that I can process it.
3) It sometimes lessens the severity of the physical aspect(s) of a flashback (maybe because my hands are "occupied").
Here's an example of a "freeform" journal entry that I wrote about a year ago when I was triggered by simply hearing someone say the phrase "Just take it all." (Note: I added some punctuation to make it SOMEWHAT easier to read.)

-----------------------------------

Just take it. Take it all. Stop your fucking complaining. Can't. No room. Stop. When will he come? Please God, No MORE! Arms over my head. Tight. Wrists. Pillow. Face. No air. Can't breathe. My duty. For my children. I can do this. I CAN'T do this. Lord, give me strength. Help me Jesus. Help me. Yea though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil. Thy rod and thy staff, they comfort me. Burning. Enough. Searing. Too much. Go away. Arms numb. Make it STOP. So dizzy. Gonna throw up. So gross. Gagging. Salty. Over me. In me. Dribbling on me. Musky smell of him. Smothering me. Holding me. Fading. Drifting. YOU ARE MINE. I am his. I am gone. Disappeared. Where did I go? Darkness. Don't fight it. Let go. Wandering. Lights. Turning over. Spreading. Slipping. Again. Here we go again. No more. Please God, no more. Hurts so bad. Stretching. Splitting. Tearing. PLEASE let him be done. Mind over matter. He's spitting on me. Says that's good enough to go again. Mad at me. I'm dry he says. Better that way. Spits again. Good enough. It's NOT. Sticking. Pulling. Feels like he's tearing me apart. He likes it. Says I'm so good and tight. Every stroke burns. Agony. Searing pain. Deeper. Harder. Stabbing straight through me to the other side. ALMOST DONE, he says. STOP SHAKING. SHUT UP. Just a little more. Thank God. Hold on. Slipping away. Almost finished. Is he? COME AGAIN. I can't. Can I? Thrusting. Counting. Two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, twelve, fourteen, twenty, sixty nine, HUT. I miss playing football. Think about something else. Anything else. Deeper. Harder. He says he's done. Please be done. Finally. Breathing. Gulping air. Curl up in ball, knees to chin. Is he gone? Have to pee. No, I can't. Too late. Burning. He's still in me. GET IT OUT. But he's gone. Not there. Need ice. Ice. Find the ice. Make it stop. He's gone. Don't care where. Away from me. Quiet. Curl up in a ball. Make the pain go away. Lord, please... Why ... Why ... Why... Is this how it's supposed to be? Am I so weak that I cannot do this? Help me submit willingly, Lord. My body is not my own. It is his. Strengthen me, Father. Need to sing. It will be better one day. I just need to trust. Singing -"All the way my Savior leads me, what have I to ask beside? Can I doubt His tender mercy, who through life has been my Guide? Heavenly peace, divinest comfort, here by faith in Him to dwell. For I know, whate'er befalls me, Jesus doeth all things well; for I know, whate'er befall me, Jesus doeth all things well." Tears. More tears. Why? What is wrong with me? Am I a horrible wife? I must be. This is my lot, my portion in life. I shouldn't let it upset me. God is in control, this is His will for my life, so who am I to question it or complain? Singing-"Day by day, and with each passing moment, strength I find to meet my trials here. Trusting in my Father's wise bestowment, I've no cause for worry or for fear. He whose heart is kind beyond all measure gives unto each day what He deems best -- lovingly, its part of pain and pleasure, mingling toil with peace and rest" . . . God must approve of this, otherwise He wouldn't allow it. And it says there will be pain mixed with pleasure, so I guess I should be thankful even through the pain.  This must be what He wants for me, and I'll just have to accept it. Lord, help me accept it .... Singing-"Have Thine own way, Lord, have Thine own way. Thou art the potter, I am the clay. Mold me and make me after Thy will, while I am waiting, yielded and still" ... I need to just yield. Lord, help me be still and yield. I confess my weakness, my frailty, my inability to properly submit to my husband as is my duty, my inadequacy as a mother, and my incompetancy as a housewife.  I humbly bow before you, Heavenly Father, and beg for your mercy. Haven't you punished me enough? I know I don't deserve to be rescued, but I cry out to you, oh Lord. Footsteps on the stairs. Coming up. It's him. He's back. Wants more. Shaking in puddle. Still singing. Want to believe. Hands trembling. Ice melting. In the doorway. His face. Sneering. Ridiculing. God won't hear me because I'm a slut. Worthless whore. Why am I singing to a God that can't hear me? Or doesn't care to listen? He throws hymnal against wall. Says we need to pray. Pray for my forgiveness. Pray that God will help me submit. Pray that God will forgive me for my weakness. That He will forgive me for my unwillingness. Pray that God will have mercy on me. Pray that God will make me a better wife. God help me take it all. Take it all. He wants more. No, Please, no more. Please, no. He says he'll be "nice" and only do my mouth. Please no. Please. On my chest, he's so heavy. Choking, gagging, suffocating. Bite down. Slap! Let go. Stop. No more. Finish yourself. You have two hands. Will I watch? Video. Awful & disgusting. Makes me watch. Hate porn. Skin crawling. Sick. He can't come. His arm is tired. YOU FINISH. My job. My responsibility. Take it all. Swallow. No. Sick. Gross. BASTARD! Gag. God help me. Darkness. Slime. Room spinning. Pillow soft. Quiet. Fading. Take it all. Just take it all.

Never Right Again (free writing)

I am so confused. I hear people's stories about how they have suffered at the hands of their abusers and each one is heartbreaking. They talk about being beaten, broken, and brutalized by their boyfriends or husbands. I have seen their scars. They talk about their black eyes and broken bones . . . and I feel jealous. My abuser rarely left marks on me . . . oh, to be sure, he LEFT HIS MARK . . . but usually not in any visible way.

Why were they lucky enough to have been beaten to a pulp? Why were they fortunate enough to have had their faces marred? Why were they allowed to have PROOF of their abuse? Why couldn't I have had that?

I know that it probably sounds twisted for me to say that, but I feel so empty. He left some physical scars, but most of my wounds are in my soul, where nobody can see . . .

The one thing that I thought was my own -- my body, my sexuality . . . this he took from me. Whenever he wanted, however he wanted, and for however long he wanted . . . I was just a piece of meat to him. A free whore. As his wife, I had no right to say no.

He owned me.

I can't even begin to describe the incredible physical pain . . . for those of you who have given birth to children without any anesthesia, you can maybe relate. Rape is inhumane. It is not only the sex -- it's about domination, control, and humiliation. I don't understand how he could do it do me over and over again and NOT CARE that he was hurting me. He simply DID NOT CARE. to the contrary, he seemed to ENJOY hurting me, and would say things like, "oh yeah, that's the way you like it, isn't it?" or "hurts good, don't it?" It still doesn't make any sense to me.

Over the years, I was reduced to nothing . . . a lump of flesh that did his bidding. Night after night I would lie in my bed and wait for his footsteps. There was no point in trying to go to sleep until I had "done my duty." It was worse to fall asleep only to be awakened later. I don't know how many times I woke up with his dick in my face, with his hand on my throat, or with his hands pawing roughly between my legs or groping madly at my boobs. The sheer terror still grips me sometimes at night, and I wake in a cold sweat expecting to see him hovering over me, waving his dick in the air, and saying:

"WAKE THE FUCK UP, BITCH -- I'M HORNY!"

He has never shown a bit of remorse. In fact, he denies that it even happened.  And now his feeble attempts to reconcile "because I've been going to AA and I'm sober now" just DISGUST me. As if somehow I CARE that he's not drinking now.  As if somehow the drinking "made him do it" . . .  what about all the times he was stone cold sober? 

I don't CARE if he's sober now. I don't care if he's in counseling. I don't care how much he SAYS he loves me. He doesn't know the meaning of the word LOVE.

How could you claim to love someone and then hold them down and fuck them up the ass, even though you could see they were bleeding and in excruciating pain? How could you claim to love someone and force them to suck your dick til they throw up from gagging on it? How could you claim to love someone and then whip them until their ass is raw? That's not love . . . I don't know what the hell it is . . .

Is he psychotic? Is he crazy? Is he just plain evil? What made him like this?

And, the buring question that I still can't find an answer to:

What is wrong with ME?

How could I ever would have been attracted to someone like that? Why didn't I SEE the warning signs? Why didn't a RUN SCREAMING the first time he raped me? Why did I believe that somehow it was "okay" . . . or think that he would change?  How could I have valued myself so little that I would let him treat me like that? How many years of his torture did it take before I quit crying out . . . before I quit fighting him . . . before I quit feeling it at all . . . before I ceased even being a person?

I don't even remember.

And now . . . now that I'm supposed to be "free" . . . now that I'm away from him and trying to start over again . . . why do I still feel trapped by the memories? Why can't I break free?

I DON'T WANT TO FEEL LIKE THIS ANYMORE!

I'm so tired of hurting. I'm so tired of trying to explain to people why I left without being able to TELL THEM why. How do you tell your family that your husband is a sadistic monster that raped you whenever he felt like it?

There are no weekly "study groups" at church for discussing THAT!

Marital rape is just something you DON'T TALK ABOUT with anyone . . . EVER! Even now, the only person I've been able to talk to about this stuff is my therapist. And there are STILL some things I'm not even comfortable discussing with HER . . . things that I don't even have words for . . . things that I don't even want to think about much less talk about.

WHAT IS WRONG WITH ME?

Up until about a week ago, I didn't even feel angry. I just felt such incredible pain and sorrow . . . I feel like I've LOST 14-15 years of my life that I will never get back. But now . . . now that his family is pushing me to try to think about "working it out" I feel so much rage and anger and I don't know what to do with it. For so many years I never allowed myself to be angry because if I showed even the slightest emotion, whether it be sadness or anger or whatever, my "punishment" from him was that much worse. I simply learned to "turn off" my feelings. 

But now I know that I NEED TO process this stuff and let myself FEEL IT. But I don't even know what I'm supposed to feel. Is it "right" to feel angry? What am I supposed to do with this pain? How do I make it go away?

Right now I just want to make him suffer. I'd like to see HIM writhing in agony with a beer bottle shoved up HIS ass and tell HIM to

"SHUT THE FUCK UP AND QUIT CRYING LIKE A FUCKING BABY!"

Is it wrong for me to want him to suffer? Is it wrong for me to want him to feel my pain, to know what he did to me, how badly he hurt me? I just get so angry when he won't even ADMIT TO ME the things he did. Was he so drunk that he doesn't REMEMBER? Did he blackout? I tell myself that, because that's easier for me to swallow than the idea that he's just so heartless and cruel that he doesn't give a damn.  But what about the times he wasn't drinking at all . . . I can't deal with that . . . with knowing that the same person who could call me his "honey bunny" could do that to me . . . I just can't wrap my mind around it. 

Ironically, his family thinks that I'm the one who's being a heartless bitch for not forgiving him and being willing to at least go for counseling. What good would it do for us to go for counseling?

I HATE HIM!

And no amount of counseling is going to change that. I went through 14+ years of LIVING HELL with this man (and I use the term man very loosely) . . . 14+ years of unspeakable torment and pain. And now I'm just supposed to "forgive and forget?"

I DON'T THINK SO!

I'm just not READY to forgive . . . and I don't think I'll EVER be able to forget . . . so many times I lie awake at night and WISH THAT I COULD FORGET. Oh, how I wish I could FORGET!

What I wouldn't give to feel "normal" . . . to feel like a human being . . . to feel ANYTHING at all besides terror and confusion.

I don't even have a CLUE what "normal" is supposed to feel like anymore. I wish somebody would tell me how I'm supposed to feel and what I'm supposed to do now. I feel so very lost and alone.

What is love? Does it even exist? Or is everybody out there just acting out a "fairytale charade" to make people like me wish for something that can never happen?

I see families . . . husbands and wives . . . children . . . and they look so HAPPY.

What did I EVER DO that was so wrong that I didn't deserve that? Why couldn't I have had that?

Didn't I deserve happiness?

I hate myself for letting him do those things to me. I hate him for taking everything from me. He took my dignity. He took my life. He took my soul. And then he LAUGHED at me, spit in my face, and called me his "BITCH."

That's all I ever was . . . just his fucking BITCH.

Maybe that's all I will ever be . . . because right now I don't feel like I'll ever be right again.