A Journey from Victim to Survivor…to Living Freely

When Healing ROARS!!!

on January 16, 2015

Healing often comes in quiet whispers.  And, there are some times that healing ROARS!!!


Healing is roaring…healing has me at the computer typing and reaching out.  Healing has me picking up the phone to call my psychologist.  Healing has me blaming the right person, instead of myself.  Healing is roaring.


An hour ago I got a phone call from the man responsible for raping a toddler, a pre-schooler, a child-sized me.  The man who would use his hands and angry words on my mother.  The man who was horrific to my little brother.  I gave up using the title of “dad” long ago.  However, I guess that biology cannot be entirely denied.  The man was my father.


2 years ago, in the midst of the worst of PTSD nightmares, flashbacks, shaking, tear-filled hours spent with my skin crawling and my mind reeling, he decided to “reach out” for the first time in many months (maybe a year or so?).  At that time, I told him via text that I never wanted any contact with him again.  He pulled out something about me not being able to keep him from his grandchildren and I panicked…getting in touch with a lawyer friend on Christmas night.  The lawyer friend assured me that there would not be anything that could be done, except if he went through my ex.  I let my ex know about the abuse and told him that my “father” was to never have contact with our children.  My ex agreed.


So, to be contacted today was a surprise…except…I had a feeling…I’ve been watching my phone these last few days because his brother, my uncle, died at the age of 82, on Tuesday.  My brother and I each decided that we would not be going anywhere near the funeral because we have each decided that we will not be in contact with this toxic, evil person.  I didn’t pick up when the call came through…when the number popped up, I knew…I couldn’t have told you what his number was, and yet, in seeing it, I knew immediately.  He left a message.  A long message blaming everyone (except himself) and everything for all of his problems, with a slight bit at the very beginning and very end that said he wanted to see me and the kids.


And, I started to shake…and, breathe shallow…and try to figure out how I can keep my children safe from this monster.  For the first time in a long time, memories of the abuse came up without being flashbacks.  I didn’t hurt myself in my increasing panic.  I messaged a friend.  I called my psychologist.  I blocked his number, but not before texting “Do not contact me.”.  I deleted the last remaining family members off of my FB page so that he can not be getting “inside information” about me or my children.  I moved around when my body wouldn’t stay still.  I’ll use my hands to knit when I am done typing to keep them moving, too.  And, I am blogging.  Not a day or week after it happens…but, now.  I am writing now.


In doing all these things and, there will be more skills to use as the day progresses, I am ready to shout “YOU DO NOT HAVE CONTROL OVER ME!!!!!”


Healing often comes in quiet whispers.  And, sometimes healing ROARS!


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