Christmas preps.

I don't ever remember my parents telling me that if I wasn't a "good girl" I wouldn't get any presents. Or just get coal. And I think that is appropriate. If you haven't guessed, I haven't told Bug that either. Though I have been tempted at times. In my mind though... putting that sort of perspective on Christmas, that it is about receiving gifts, it is no wonder everyone expects to get gifts. Isn't it all about giving, and Christ centered? How He gave everything for us, so we must do our best to give back by serving others? I haven't talked to Bug about what he wants for Christmas. I haven't pointed out to him that there are gifts under the tree for him. What I did... was take Bug to the toy section of the store, and asked him to pick out a present for Baby. *he isn't bubbling anymore since he has grown two teeth, so his blog name has changed once again* What I did... was help Bug wrap Baby's present that he picked out. I helped him write a note to Baby. Then we put it under the tree, me pointing out how good it felt to do such things.

And then Bug said, "Mom. Baby want's to open it now." Yeah... I'm sure.

Well, I tried.

Silly Me....

Maybe I just thought I already talked about it. Maybe I just wished people would know so I imagined that they really did. No matter the reason, I hate hiding. I'm sick of hiding and refuse to. So here is the truth. The ugly truth that probably most of you don't know or never realized. If you don't know if you are ready to read or know the ugly truth or may be hurt by it, please stop reading now. I won't be offended. The last thing I want to do is hurt people.

I can't hide anymore.

So here it is.

I'm sorry in advance.











I was sexually abused when I was a child.

There it is. The ugly truth.

You don't need to know by whom. Please don't speculate on who done it. It has happened, and we can all just go on with our merry lives pretending everything is grand right? "Just put it behind us." It does no good to dwell on past mistakes and wrongs. Right? Right??

No. And yes. When a child is abused, they separate themselves from themselves. Call it a survival instinct. With something as traumatizing as this, the emotions have to be dealt with at some point. As far as the perpetrator, it is true. It is no good to dwell on past mistakes. I have forgiven him, so no one needs to know who done it.

But I can't "just let it go". Because sometimes... no... all times, what happens in our past affects how we act today. Some things have more affect than others. Something as traumatizing as this is hard to accept sometimes. But I need to deal with the emotions that I have hidden... no run from my whole life. Right now I'm cleaning out the closet. I can't live like this anymore. I have recently realized that I (irrationally, I know) feel a lot of guilt. Please don't tell me that it wasn't my fault. I already know that. Knowing ≠ feeling.

When you clean out a closet, dust arises. I'm in for a long stretch of ugliness. Or at least it feels like that. I can't just hide it and pretend everything is happy-go-lucky anymore. I used to. Which is why things like this can exist. Survivors learn to be very good actors. Except to their moms apparently.

I'm pissed off because I thought I had already gone through this. I have been through counseling before. Many times in fact. I thought I had been healed. And now I'm back at square one. Well... past square one. Deeper down than square one.

My parent's home used to be a safe haven for me. A sanctuary. It has always been that way for me. I hadn't ever moved the entirety of my childhood. They have always lived in the too small house for nine kids, with the unfinished basement. There have been some improvements. No one is sleeping in an unfinished bathroom with blankets for walls anymore, but that might have something to do with the fact that my parents are the only ones living there now. But at least the unfinished bathroom has walls now... at least as far as I know. I don't pay much attention to those sorts of things. Usually when I'm down there I'm trying to keep myself from screaming. I was only scared of the basement.

The guest room is now currently in the basement. The only queen bed for guests is now down there. Well... besides the hide-a-bed... but when I wake up on that bed I can't move for a bit because of the back pain. Thanksgiving eve. We went to visit family. I tried to sleep down there because sleeping in bunk beds wasn't appealing to me. I wanted my honey's arm around me. I didn't even get close to sleep before I was practically running up the stairs with tears running down my eyes.

I have felt uncomfortable at my parent's house since. It kills me. My only sanctuary this whole time has now turned into a house of horrors. It isn't because the spirit isn't there. It may be because I have cut myself off from anything spiritual. Feeling this enormous guilt has given me the impression that I'm not worthy enough to pray or feel any sort of love from anyone. I know it is false. Knowing ≠ feeling.

So there it is. I'm not asking for any sort of advice. I am going to counseling for a reason. But I just can't hide anymore.

Stop following me if that was too much for you. I'm sure the posts will get worse. I'll try to keep things light with pictures and cute stories about my adorable kids. But count on these sort of posts. Because I just can't keep it in anymore.

MIA

I apologize. I haven't been blogging in a long while. Reading or writing. I have 96 posts that I haven't read of blogs that I keep up with.

Just know this.

I am alive and well.

We are surviving. Some how.

I'll post more details on that later when I can find out how to do it tactfully and sparing the ugly details that I'm sure no one wants to read anyway.

I can pull through this. God willing...