The Real Demons

We just passed Halloween, the day where we essentially celebrate ghosts and demons by pretending to be someone else. I love Halloween. But, I have experienced real demons. It’s not something I care to revisit at any time, not even annually.

The subject of Judge William Adams shook me like an earthquake. The tremor was so intense that a number of bottles on my shelf plunged to the floor. This has conjured up very old, very dangerous demons.

Repression is a defense mechanism I had to cultivate. Prior to that, I carried the burden of the emotions that those memories conjured up from their brimming cauldrons. Then, a cycle is perpetuated from those. The circular motion of violence is born, doling out vicious events with dire consequences. Repression is amazing in it’s function. Get over it.

I do not attempt to invoke pity. In fact, I’d rather be despised than pitied.

Get over it has to be emblazoned on my family crest in centuries past along with Suck it up. I learned my lesson by developing pneumonia and somatopsychic symptoms over the summer. It should have inspired me to do some “fall cleaning”. I failed to check under my bed for the boogeyman. Funny, I didn’t see him – I spent most of my summer under there attempting to locate my black leggings.

I need a sounding board. But, I have to divulge some more sordid details of my past before I can get to that.

Yeah, we’ve covered the child abuse in my life. Unfortunately, that paved the way.

I’ve covered my tumultuous relationship with my high school sweetheart. What I didn’t mention was how he violated me. Ugh. I can’t even bear to use the appropriate word: rape.

I trusted him. I consented and then changed my mind. It was physically painful. He pinned me, and smothered my screams in a pillow. “Why didn’t you stop?!”

He lit a cigarette and smiled. “Oh, shut up. You liked it.”

It’s haunting.

I was determined never to be a victim again. That inspired my mutually abusive relationship following. “Love The Way You Lie” on Youtube can give a visual representation. It was the first and last time I ever intentionally harmed someone. I just wanted to hurt him as badly as he hurt me on the inside. I wanted him to wear those battle wounds and carry them with him for the rest of his life. Because I knew I would.

I’m ashamed as much as I’m hurt.

I accidentally opened this Pandora’s box. These memories flooded in with all of the emotions that have infected my brain and stirred my disease. It has colored my world. I am angry, bitter, paranoid, and sullen all at once. Now that the box is opened, what do I do now?

What can ward off demons? Because I know holy water in a super-soaker won’t do it.

9 thoughts on “The Real Demons

  1. Repression is that double edged sword. While it works, it keeps all the negativity away. And then the dam breaks and everything comes flooding out. I wish I knew more so I can help, but sadly I don’t have a past that really allows me to empathize. All I can offer are some sincere condolences about the pandora’s box opening, that’s happened to me a few times and there’s nothing to do except for letting it pass and let it close up again.

    • Yeah, I sort of figured this was my only recourse. I thought about taking some extra time to journal it. However, I am very concerned about perpetuating this. I don’t want to indulge it and have it get completely out of control.

      Should I go through it or just ride it out? I’ve been doing better throughout the last few days while riding it out. But will that help me in the long term?

    • It’s ok. These things happened so long ago. I do feel the pangs now and again when the correct stimulus is presented. I’ve generalized some of the responses out a little too far, I’ll admit. That’s why I need a touchstone to keep me in check. Is this really a threat?

      Many thanks for your emotion and thoughts. I guess these things happen. I’m just so angry and embarrassed about how I blindly let it happen.

  2. You are a very brave woman, Lulu, for making it through all of this and for breaking your silence, years later.

    I can personally relate to repression, but not on a subject like this one. I hope this post inspires other women (and men) who have been through such traumatic, horrific experiences to come out from the shadows, to know they are not alone, and to let go of any shame they may still be carrying.

    Love to you ~

    • Thank you, my dear Ruby. You are so incredibly kind to me and hold me in the highest regard, even when I don’t think I belong there.

      I am ashamed that I raised my hand to someone. I will never get the chance to apologize. Even if I did, I don’t think I’d even want to give him the satisfaction, because he’s just as guilty as I am. And that’s the problem right there. I’m not sure I’d want to apologize and I’m not sure I can forgive.

      When the whole ordeal with Avi was finally over with, I used to be able to say, “We just brought out the worst in each other. We were two people who were fundamentally incompatible in a vicious cycle.” I can point out his flaws all day, but it’s taken me some time to admit my fault. Mutually-domestic abuse is hard because there are no definitive victims and perpetrators. There are so many shoulda, woulda, coulda’s. But most of all, I wish I would have had the sense not to raise my hand back at him and the strength to walk away the first time I ever packed my bags.

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