I always struggle when I discover new ‘types’ of trauma in me. My mind struggles, it resists. It says: no Martin this isn’t possible. But then again the pain is so real. I went to see Sandra on tuesday, I’ve been in shock since then; strong, electric, dialectic shock. At the same time there is relief; another piece surfaced so there is less tension inside… but dealing with it, fuck. Seriously?
I shed a few tears, ok; many by my standards. I wanted to stop them, but I was tied up upside down to a tree. My uncle’s friend Gae was there, he was the one pushing for this to happen. To think that my father made him feel so welcome to abuse his children, offered them on a silver platter is beyond belief. WHAT THE FUCK.
I love my sister, my younger sister, I always have. But she’s been fully brainwashed by my father with his lies but mostly the guilt he imposed on his surroundings. And now I am the evil one, “le méchant”. I mean sure it’s easy to point out that I have “evil” demeanour, facing a problem like this isn’t for the light hearted. But my heart is throbbing inside and it is all coming from a place of love. On the surface tho, my father acts like the victim, and I am the perpetrator; because “he didn’t do anything to us”. directly. sure. whatever you fuck face. As in, he isn’t the one who abuse us. Sure, but he was there, he was aware, he enabled it, he amplified it. But that, no that doesn’t count.
So when I go visit him, and ask questions and he calls the cops on me, he tells them I’m potentially a danger to myself; and he tells my family I’m evil. Yet I ask questions, which cause him pain somehow. It awakens his dead heart a little, and he realizes the hurt he has inside and he gets chest pains, and arythmia and then blames it on me. So my sister thinks that I cause this to him. Of course, je suis méchant.
Well let me tell you how I felt when I saw her being abused for the first time, under my eyes. By my uncle and gae, and gae was the one pushing, he was pushing hard. I felt guilt, that I had brought this to her. I felt like so far this abuse shit was well contained into my universe and I was doing everything I could to keep it that way; but now there were other victims. I felt helpless, I wanted to stop them, I left my body at once, and invaded theirs trying to stop them; it slowed them down but only a little. And then I felt sadness, love for her, I did everything I could to protect her emotionally with my presence. I would have given my life so she would never need to live through this. They were violent, she was pretty drunk; which most people will feel makes it less hard on her, but it isn’t true. It mostly means the effects will be deeply unconscious and will always haunt her.
I felt guilty, so guilty. for not being able to do anything. For being stuck there; with no way to help. And so fucking drunk. And lost. what is this? what was this? do they even make horror movies that contain shit like that? I wonder. I’m not a big fan of horror movies, I don’t need to watch horror movies to live those kind of emotions, i have plenty inside. So I have no idea.
While in therapy, and let me explain what this ‘therapy’ is. Cranio sacral is a gentle massage of the central nervous system. the most pressure applied is 5 grams, the weight of a quarter. She moved her hands like 8 times during the whole 1hr session. There is barely any talking, she asks me to describe what I am going through once in a while, maybe 5 times during that particular session and then she repeats it. And so, whatever I see comes from deep inside, and isn’t suggested. Nobody told me anything about this, nor do I spend hours of my time torturing myself with the thoughts. If I did, I’d be crazy; what I do is feel. I feel the shock. This shock feels old, rusty, at a pretty high level of drunkenness. In the other therapy I will locate it on the lifeline, lower it back into it’s spot and weld it there with the help of Emmanuel; but right now it’s too ‘fresh’.
I have a hard time being concentrated, I’m all over the place. I feel insecure, unworthy of anything, I couldn’t save my sister. I feel guilty, as if it was my fault somehow. And I would so much want to relieve her. In fact I did, once.
I was in my parents house, I must have been 24-25. I think. She was sitting in the living room, and in deep despair. I played piano for a while, that was fun, but then my sister worried me a bit so I went to her and I put my hand on her upper back, halfway between the heart and the neck. This is a very sensitive area, you get straight access to people’s souls. I went in, deep, and replaced horror and despair and any negative emotion with a form of structure, I did this for like 20 minutes maybe and in the process I was absorbing her pain. It was intense and she didn’t know what I was doing and honestly I didn’t either. Then my dad showed up and she was waiting for him to drive her somewhere so they left and then, I felt like exploding in tears. And I did, I cried for like 10 minutes non stop, deep throbbing in my mothers arms. I was letting all of the sadness and despair out that I had took from my sister. I was holding my mother so strongly during the process that it felt like I would break her, she was holding me like a baby. It wasn’t my pain, it wasn’t hurting, I was just crying. I never cry like this unfortunately, my inside are frozen still, I can’t cry like that; so it was my sister’s.
The problem is, I didn’t fully understand what I had done, I wasn’t sure what the effect was on my sister. But what happened to our relationship is she kept avoiding me for 2-3 weeks to a month. I thought I did something wrong, or maybe displaced. And that was hurtful, to feel someone so intimately as to go inside and absorb her pain and then she blocks you out. After about a month I finally asked her why, and she said “j’avais peur que si je m’approchais de toi, la douleur reviendrait.”. She was afraid that if she came near me, her pain would come back… yes, it worked that well. Had I been more mature i could have explained it to her, but I had never done that before. I had no idea what I was doing. But it worked. Needless to say her level of appreciation was low, or thankfulness or whatever you want to call it. My younger sister is very ego oriented. Strong, STRONG ego.
Sometimes I wonder what I am doing here, why I came back to this planet. It’s a good question.
The other memory that surfaced during tuesday’s therapy session is that my mother would sometimes come and look at the ‘abuse ceremonies’. Let me explain this in detail or try to. It might feel very far fetched or unbelievable to most people. If I have read your past lives, or if you have had episodes of telepathy with me, or if you’ve witnessed me doing or knowing things that are hard to explain (‘how is it possible’?), or if I have seen through your eyes before and described it; basically if you’ve known me a bit you will understand that the following paragraph is possible. If not, you might just think it’s crazy. But remember that it is not because something has never happened to you, or anybody you know that it is impossible. Don’t close the door, don’t lock yourself in a fixed reality. There is simply no need for that.
In a past life, my grandfather was the leader of a cult, a necrophilic cult. Dark shit to be sure. My grand mother was the high priestess and my mother was an aspiring priestess. That past life explains my grandfathers obsession with fucking me while I was unconscious. It also explains my grand mother’s complicity. And, finally. My mother’s half sleepwalking zombieness and curiosity about what she perceived about the abuse. Most of it happened in the forest, there was a fire, there werent any chants, or anything religious like that. but my mother overlayed a layer of illusion on it, like sleepwalkers do. That illusion was replays of ceremonies where she was kept outside, and this was to her, just another ceremony. And so from time to time, she’d come and peak, and I would see her and feel like everything would be alright, she’d stop this. But no, she was fascinated and stayed and felt left out. She’d try to make sure nobody noticed her, but I was outside of my body, I saw everything going on around those events. I even went inside of her and saw through her eyes; what she was seeing and she wasn’t seeing reality.
And so no, she didn’t save me, or my sister. She watched, and left. Her mind closed, in her dreamy world. And my hopes were shattered, and I knew, then that this wouldn’t stop unless I stopped it. and I was too small, not powerful enough to stop anything.
Talk about a lovely family. No support, no love, no interest, abuse, torture, drunkennes galore, near death experiences a galore. A manipulative father, a true asshole, who offered his kids as goods in return for favors; in return for getting his ass fucked.