Hi Jana

At some point. I just haven’t had a lot of time to read recently. I have been focusing more on relationship counselling stuff.

I did finally finish all of that reading and I am trying to get back into reading spiritual things again. It’s not Buddhist, but Daoist that I’m currently reading. The Book of Master Lie by Lieh Tzu. I do believe all of these things are interrelated.

I’ll post a good story from it soon when I come across one. 😊

Love, peace and best wishes! ❤️🙏

*trigger warnings for this journal entry*

I tried fighting her for a while before I was successful. I didn’t understand what was happening to me when I was younger. But when I hit puberty I knew that what was happening at home wasn’t normal. I was being sexually abused by my own mother.

I remember having a school project once and I was asked to bring in photographs of when I was younger. I asked my mother and she said that she didn’t have any. So I looked through storage and found some. I took them into school and I was told that I didn’t have to do the project. The teacher chose not to report the pictures. When I asked my mother about them she said that my father’s friend had taken them.

My brother was initially raised as a girl because my father wanted a girl. Our father left when I was young and he was also a violent alcoholic.

Back to my mother. She would buy me see through underwear and make me model it for her. She would often make us strip before beating us infront of each other. She would request nude cuddling. She tried grooming my friend and gave them translucent underwear too.  Fortunately, my friend refused. When my period came, she tried to force herself on me to teach me to use a tampon. Fortunately, I managed to fight her off.

But there were many times when I wasn’t strong enough to. She would tickle me while I was undressed and I would beg her to stop. And to leave me alone. And I would start trying to fight her off me. And then she would suffocate me by sitting on my chest (she was a very plump woman and I was a tiny anorexic because of starvation, young girl) until I passed out.

I was terrified of dying during these times. I practised holding my breath every night. So I might live next time it happened. I got very good at holding my breath. I cried myself to sleep silently every night, the sound of me crying annoyed her.

She would often describe to me at length how she was planning on killing us in our sleep. And I learned to sleep very lightly incase she tried.

We were known to social work when I was older. But she threatened to kill us if we talked. Social work didn’t care about the neglect that they were aware of. I remember calling and saying that there was no food at home. They took us out for lunch and dropped us off back at home with no food in the house. I didn’t call again.

My brother was violent. He would assault me and strangle me when he didn’t get his way (I had to make sure that we followed our mothers strict rules when she wasn’t home because she would know if we broke the rules and punish us).

My mother tried to give us away to other members of the cult.

Guilt was not the reason for staring those stories. Empathy was. I have no judgements. I understand. There is nothing to fear.

My mom quite literally blamed me for ruining her life. She dreamed of being a professional athlete, or a famous singer and I ruined her chances of that happening. She claimed that before she had children she was not like how she was after. That we turned her into a monster. It wasn’t her fault, she didn’t know any other way and was just doing what her parents did. We made her like that, we made her do the horrible things that she did. And that I was just like her.

I was afraid of becoming like her for most of my life. I fought tooth and nail against it. I hated her. The last thing in the world I want to be is her.

I don’t like being blamed. Other people have blamed me too, not just her. My adopted mother. My husband. Someone else always has to be to blame for some people.

We are all responsible for our own actions.

And more often than not, there is no one to blame. Life happens. Mistakes happen. It is no ones fault.

It must have been difficult to be a single parent of two children. But it wasn’t our fault for existing. And we didn’t make her become who she was. She could have fought harder for help instead of giving up.

My adopted mom was already a mess before I ever came along. My husband has been suffering because of a combination of trauma and stressful circumstances.

If there’s one thing I know is that everyone makes mistakes and that is okay. Teaching taught me that. All we have to do is learn from our mistakes and try to do better.

Next, I imagine the perfect place that makes me feel most safe and happy. Everyones will be different, but this is mine. You can bring whoever and whatever you want with you. The goal is to describe it in as much detail as possible similar to before.

All of the pets I’ve lost in the past year are there. They are all safe, happy and healthy. We are all reunited and it is a joyful experience. The cats purr and rub against me and let me stroke them as much as I want and of course, beg silently for food. They always want cuddles when they are hungry, they know that I am easily bribed. Naturally. I give them all of their favourite treats. Wet food! Chicken! Fish! As much as they want. The loud meowing in excitement starts as I bring the food and the softer meows come from the quieter cat. One makes smacking noises as she eats quickly. The other eats slowly savouring every bite.

Of course, my dog is there too. Impatiently waiting. Huffing with excitement. Hey, don’t forget to feed me too. Come on now, you know you have to sit. She sits begrudgingly, eyes shining with anticipation, she practically vibrates with excitement. She is always a hungry girl who loves her food. Her favourite food is chicken too. They are nothing, if not predictable. Here you can have as much as you want. She jumps excitedly as I bring the food and ask for her to sit once more. Which she does with a reluctant whine. Okay! She gobbles enthusiastically.

After she is done, I hold her and stroke her fur. And I take her for one last walk to our favourite place down the beach.

After doing these exercises, distraction is best.