Trigger Warning: Discussion of future child sexual abuse.
Everything you are about to read is allegations and has not been proven in court. There is a dearth of justice in the world, especially for the young and vulnerable of this land. It may or may not be true. Be the judge. Even without a jury, the judge is a powerful witness.
It is long past midnight, and I am wide awake, although I have taken enough tranquilizers to strangle a horse, I am not dead. never Dies. I want to live. As torn and torn as I am, this is all I wanted.
I’m crying, I’m crying. However, I can’t help but notice that the monsters are receding. It’s as if they languished in the air around me.
I can breathe, lie still, and not feel myself falling, floundering in terror. Memories come back to us of what you did to me late at night, with the help of my older brother.
There are more horrific memories that are emerging but have yet to reveal themselves. I am this week’s Lifetime movie. I am a victim that one can only look at through the lens of a true crime. However, I live, so everyone should think well, and it wasn’t that bad. It wasn’t Elissa Lam Budd or JonBenet Ramsey Budd.
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I’m experiencing a feeling of disbelief. I’m fighting for territory here and I’m begging someone, anyone, to make space for everything she did to me and forgive me for letting her do more. Because she went back, and because she did not realize and realize how much she had done, and how much she was still doing, and even planning to do.
Two years ago I started practicing meditation, and one year ago I started EMDR therapy. If I get out of your way, you’ll tell yourself everything: the actions I took to permanently disable me.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s long past midnight. My body will not leave consciousness. He doesn’t want to die. The terrible feelings lurking deep inside me flare up more and more as we get closer to three in the morning.
Yes, of course. This gets pretty dark. I’m very sorry. Please come back if you are squeamish. I am. But here we are.
It’s long after midnight and I’m wide awake.
What I’m about to tell you might scare you. It may disgust you and you may be inclined to doubt its authenticity. I do not blame you. I did for decades.
But that’s what psychopaths depend on – our inability to believe their relentless and deliberate quest to paralyze, maim, and psychologically annihilate their victims while they smile and pretend it’s not happening.
They are not narcissists, although they can look the same in a certain light.
But at the end of the day, narcissists are still human and cause a relatively normal amount of harm to their loved ones. For most of their lives, a narcissist can act like selfish children, but they are still human, capable of love and growth. I know and love many of them
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Experts say that there is little qualitative difference between psychopaths and sociopaths, who may be born by narcissistic mothers who do not touch them, and perhaps barely even look at them. They run companies, governments, and car dealerships. They are often great salespeople. They show charm.
Some more than others, depending on what they want and how long they can go between meals. I suppose there might be a sliding scale of psychopathy – Ted Bundy and Jeffrey Dahmer on one end, and Vladimir Putin on the other.
But where do women fall on this scale? I don’t know. The science on this matter is not as clear as it could be.
Mothers sexually abuse their children. that happens. It’s rare, but it happens. If you don’t believe it then you’re a good sign. You will have a role to play in the sad and sick drama. You will act as their shield, covering their actions with complicity. yours.
When you are no longer useful, you will be eliminated. Women play drugs and even poison a long game and in the end hide behind their patience. No one blames a dedicated caregiver who never compromises his care, beyond yours and mine. Does this sound sexist? Good…
Be careful of what you are sure of, as it will make it easier for you to be deceived.
Psychopaths are like us: they study, manipulate, lie, hide, and at the same time measure you, mirror you, gain you, control you, and isolate you.
They make very good mirrors. For the wounded, their laser-like focus can make them feel loved. But it’s just medicine. Don’t confuse the two.
Every action they take is calculated, planned, rehearsed, and written down. They depend on you not caring, or not doing what we do, and projecting our needs and desires onto them. So they can be almost impossible to detect. It’s a challenge, but throw them a curve ball, do something outside of their expectations, and their mask will fall. Pay attention to the ones that reveal. It could save your life.
A psychopath needs a mirror too, and that’s the role of the victim. It should bring them comfort and perhaps a feeling of love. Love is like presence. Love as a witness, attention, and complete and abject terror. This, my friends, is a love much stronger than you and I may ever realize.
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It’s long after midnight and I’m drifting into theory, for your sake. I hate to take you into the abyss so early.
We have become accustomed to these sick and terrible waters together. You are reading about my atrocities for the first time, and I am writing about them for the first time. You are my witness among a cloud of witnesses, your interest is my lifeboat.
I think of all the people I’ve known and wonder if they read this, what it will mean to them—if any of it will explain my past behavior driven by tangled feelings of sadness, fear, and cavernous need. I do not think so. A person can only see through the lens of their suffering and upbringing.
So what stopped me from becoming a mom? God knows she tried. It may have worked for my older brother, but not for me. I stood up defiantly, which only exacerbated my abuse. She wanted control and complete submission. She sought to destroy us all and then became our only savior.
While I should be damaged beyond repair, I am not. I challenged her anyway and continued, and even now, my defiance grows with every keystroke. However, as I expand into my true self, more memories crowd my fragile confidence. It’s here, pressing, hurting, and growing in size.
I’m in this strange land where the world I thought I knew doesn’t exist but where I’m going has yet to take shape. The life I live, a remnant built on invisible trauma, collapses under my new weight, and the life I see dimly through the vapors rising before me can no longer support me.
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It should hold me hopeful, as annoying an answer as I find that. And your interest. It’s almost three in the morning. The faint outline of unimaginable horror appears within me. I can’t push them back or tell myself this is all a dream anymore… I have to try to sleep, even if I feel like I’m dying.
It was long after midnight, long enough now that I could take more tranquilizers and live.
Sexual abuse of children and minors is incredibly common. According to the Rape, Abuse, and Incest National Network (RAINN), 1 in 9 girls and 1 in 53 boys under the age of 18 have been sexually assaulted by an adult. Girls are more likely to be victims of sexual assault; The organization reports that 82% of all victims under the age of 18 are female, and those who experience assault and abuse are more likely to develop mental health problems such as depression, PTSD, and substance abuse.
