In the very moments following dissociation, and I mean exact moments following it, your consciousness is left partially voided, partially ruined. There is a vaccuum that exists; it is a strange state. Time stops completely, space is also non-existent and you feel your entire surrounding, all the of the input from every single sense you have as if they were happening inside of you.
In my last therapy session, about 5 days ago, I saw this moment; I saw a particular one. It was quite clear and quite distinct; I am hanging by my feet, tied to the ceiling, partially naked, in the basement. Underneath me there is a bucket, in case I throw up. I have puke in my hair, puke in my nose and I feel nauseated. I was raped and tortured and forced into unconsciousness by 3 men. But right this moment they are gone; upstairs somewhere to drink more beer while I slowly come back to myself.
When i saw this event, I felt incredibly sad. I don’t know why I feel more sad about them leaving me like this versus them raping me or torturing me; but I guess it shows clearly how much I didn’t count, I was just like an animal they wanted to butcher.
The fact that they got away with it is really hard to deal with. REALLY HARD.
But I think that the fact that it happened, while so many people were in the know, is even harder.
During the same therapy session, i also saw some events between age 7 and 12. That is a no go zone for me, despite the fact that I’ve been doing therapy for 8 years now; I cannot go there. I’m simply not strong enough. And I was particularly angry at the therapist for taking me there. Like WTF!!
At some point must have built up endurance, enough of it that my grandfather and uncle decided to get more creative. And so they started fucking me up my ass WHILE my head was underwater. And they’d bring my head up once in a while so I could catch a breath and so they could keep going.
That also makes me so sad. I mean I hear stories about war crimes and torture done in guantanamo bay; but I doubt it got this bad. Plus their targets were adults, not 7 year old kids. And these people commit suicide.
I won’t commit suicide. But I can tell you I wonder what life would be like if I didn’t have to fight with myself at every step I take. EVERY FUCKING STEP I TAKE, EVERY DAY, EVERY HOUR, EVERY MINUTE.
You don’t know what it feels like. you never will.