Process? WTF is that...

3.01.2016 -
These past 3-4 weeks have been the most confusing, exhausting, overwhelming weeks. That feeling of how could things possibly get any harder and then they do. The battle I just went through has been a long time coming and has left me with so much going on inside I haven’t been able to process anything on my own. Nothing. It’s just a mass mess of painful and overwhelmingness. It has scared me. I’m finding myself questioning everything and everybody.

I don’t know how in the hell I am supposed to feel. What I am supposed to feel first. What am I supposed to process first. What do I dare touch first.
There’s anger at my father for his obvious unchanging sickness. I am angry at my mother for not ever taking a stand, for not showing she cared, for taking the abusers side, for helping the abuser, for playing it cold, for still playing games with me now. I am angry at all the people that filled his side of the court room. For the people who said the abuser was the victim in all this. That the abuser deserved mercy because "his family has suffered enough". What do they know! I am angry that not ONE member of my family stood up against him. That they sat on his side of the courtroom or didn’t come at all and left me to fight alone. I am angry that they say one thing and do another. I am angry at the games and manipulation in my family. I am angry at the triangulation between siblings. I am angry I am still the scapegoat. And how the hell am I supposed to even process this shit again? Like what the hell does that even mean at this point. How do I process things that feel like daggers in my soul. All these people that show validations and empathy for the person who destroyed my body and mind.

And yet in all this anger I’m relieved I got to see with my own eyes at court where people actually stood. Relieved that I had a DA that fought like hell for justice and the team of people some I had never met that saw through the bullshit of my family and their friends. Relieved I am able to have the strength to step away and out of my family’s circle as needed without feeling guilt anymore. Relieved I had the army there with me I did have by my side squeezing strength into my fingers and wrapping me in comfort when my heart was feeling like it was being crushed and knifed by a dozen knives.

And the most unexpected emotion of the day was humor. As soon as my father stood to say his few words before the judge I felt this laughter of disgust and disbelief yet mixed with “not really surprised” well up inside me. The same old bullshit, the same underlined anger, the same manipulation, the same fake emotions that I could now see through…it was still him. The same monster disguised. The same asshat who snuck into the dark at night. The same groomer. The same manipulator. The same pedaphile. The same man hiding behind false humility and lies and "Jesus Christ my Lord and Savior”. He had been caught, I spoke up when he thought I never would, he had lost his power, and his games to try to walk out of that room a free man were in strong play. And I watched my aunt hugging my mother as he talked. I watched my brother sitting with his wife's arm around his shoulder patting his back. I stared at the back of my uncle’s head wondering HOW?! I watched his friends sitting in their seats their heads hanging. I looked at the rows and rows of people and my heart felt pity. Relief. Disgust. Humor. Not just anger. I remember being in their lifes just 5 years ago and it makes my hairs stand on end. Looking in from the outside I wonder now, how in HELL I ever survived as long as I did, and played those games as long as I did.

And so how. How. How do I process the feelings of panic I felt. The feelings of vulnerability in front of a room of people who’s actions where showing they had no empathy or care for anyone but the abuser. How do I process feeling like I was sitting in a lions den sharing the most painful and vulnerable gruesome parts of myself with my father sitting with his back to me, his nose in the air, his lawyer sitting there as if waiting to try and pounce on me. My body telling me to run, and never stop. My voice feeling like a thousand bees stinging my throat. Stumbling over words and sentences of a stupid damn 3 page statement. Trying to explain what your heart, body and mind has been through with something so traumatic.

How do I process one of my father’s character witness coming over after he was sentenced and handed over to the sheriff’s department and graveling at me feet, apologizing and saying he didn’t agree with what his friend did…well buddy your words and actions sure don’t match there. Did he ACTUALLY expect me to talk to him? To shake his hand in the middle of my panic attack and high emotions and desires to literally crawl under the seat and curl up in a ball? Did my sister who snuck up behind me and grabbed me around my neck and whisper I’m sorry I love you after everyone left the room expect a response from me after sitting on his side of the courtroom in the shadows of the back corner?

How do I process people actually feel sorry for my parents? That they can empathize with their “suffering” in this mess? Their “suffering” that has been caused by THEIR choices and THEIR actions not inflicted upon them by someone. How do I process the fact that my father stated he thinks he is owed an apology? That I started this, I got him caught, he was found out and they think I am still to blame? How in hell were there people there from our old church sitting in silence and gloom in the back of the room. How the hell is this a game, a pick a side gamble, choice? Why are some so willing to hold their arms open and continue giving chances to people who have done nothing but give worthlessness and distrust and have played games.

How do I process that I have to accept being the outcast in my family. That putting energy into my family means pain on my part. How do I process when I think something is going well, my sisters are healing and then everything blows up in my face again and it feels like I lost everyone once again. How do I process the betrayal of having not a single one of your family with you in the courtroom, or willing to stand up for what is right; how do I process the incredibly unimaginably painful. Having to keep on facing being the family loner, the scapegoat, the one that doesn’t want to be in the unhealthy triangulation and game playing and manipulation.

I feel like I am standing on the edge of a black abyss of emotions with no way around it to move forward but to jump in and crash at the bottom and break open into a million pieces and then heal those pieces and put myself back together again and start climbing terrified up the other side of the abyss. And I’m avoiding it. I stand at the edge my obsessive counting keeping me from dealing with too much, my mask wearing for my kid’s sake on point, my raw and real hiding behind it trying to peak out every now and then. Knowing if I try to jump in all at once or alone I will have a mental breakdown. So I cope. I wait…for my therapy sessions.

And so...I feel like I am currently standing on the edge of a black abyss with no way around it and to move forward I must jump in and fall and fall and fall and fall and crash at the bottom and break open into a million pieces. And then I have to heal those pieces, and get help, and find support and put myself back together again, heal, recover and then start climbing up the other side of the terrifying, seemingly impossible jags and steepness to get back out of the abyss. And I’m currently avoiding it. I know to what depths and magnitude I face. I stand at the edge and let my mind race and my repetitive counting cope my brain, and fight all the symptoms of PTSD as best I can. I put on my mommy mask when I need too for my kid’s sake my raw and real hiding behind it trying to peak out every now and then. And all the while feeling if I try to jump alone I will have a mental breakdown. I won’t be able to handle the years and years of pain and trauma that will overtake me let alone all of this currently. I try to keep surviving. I remind myself that my monster is behind bars. I need to process that first. Somehow, I have to fight through all the faces that were in that courtroom and get to that truth. The one truth for sure I can stand firm in. He’s locked away. He’s gone. So I cope through as best I can and wait for my therapy sessions. For the slow slide down the abyss and then stopping to cling onto a rock until I can slide down some more to cling onto another rock. For me its baby steps and that’s okay. Because I know and I’m moving and I’m doing the most I can handle in this confusing shit hole of hell.

“Don’t Quit. You’re already in pain. You’re already hurt. Get a reward from it.”

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