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Abuse Anxiety I'm only human PTSD The People Behind My Eyes

To Touch the Authentic Me

When I was a kid and I moved around from home to home, I had the legal right to contact Jehovah’s Witnesses and talk to them. I contacted them every single chance I could.

Since I had so much contact with Jehovah’s Witnesses through various avenues, it stands to reason that I’d run into some of them now. I ran into the daughter of a woman my sister and I stayed with. She knows me. She remembers how bad it was and what we came from. She knows my birth name. She knows I have multiple personality disorder. I felt naked standing in front of her but I couldn’t help but think to myself, Faith, you lived through impossible situations. Your reality, Faith, is that you lived when others didn’t. That means something. That took a lot of work. And I’m still alive. That means something. It takes a lot of work just to exist. Yeah, my mind is fractured and my body is … broken…. but how amazing is it to have an opportunity to truly live in freedom from … them? How amazing and …. nauseating. The memories and nightmares associated with enduring her makes me nauseous but they do not erase the fact that I have an enduring spirit and that I truly understand what it means to be free.

There’s so much to say. I want to keep writing because I don’t want to leave it in my head or forget. I’m going to keep writing until I’ve eased the burden in my head of holding these thoughts.

I keep trying not to cry. I feel so many things after running into that lady tonight. Sadness, anguish, grief, longing and more sadness pours out, but I also feel that same strength I felt as a kid. That same quite little girl I used to be is still in me. The same quiet girl had a fierce will to live, to explore, to learn, to see. That little girl changed to be what my mother designed, but I can still feel the person I was before that change. I can still feel the little girl before her innocence was gone. It’s taken over 2 decades of therapy to do it, but being able to touch the authentic me again is worth having endured 45 years of life. It truly is.

As a child and young adult I survived vacations with her, shopping trips, spa treatments, hunger, rape, living in cars and sleeping on the street. I survived foster homes, filthy homes, mice, maggots, mold and my mother’s voice on my mind. I survived her.. I did. I sure did.

Faith
11:29pm EST April 11, 2017

This entry ends with I have nothing and everything.

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