Love, loneliness and trust

Hello again to all my readers. I had a good vacation, but it's also good to be back. I wish you all the best for the new year!

I spent the week-and-a-bit that I was away with my head deliberately stuck in the sand. We cut ourselves off from radio, TV and newspapers, and even ignored out cellphones most of the time. I banned my history and any form of child-abuse as topics of conversation. We immersed ourselves in the beauty of nature and in each other. It was wonderful. I managed to go an entire week without one nightmare.

Of course, I knew all the time that I'd have to pull my head out of the sand and face up to reality again. PTSD will always catch up with you. Real life is full of triggers. But I learned something: I caught a glimpse of what life can be - a life that is centred around love and hope, not fear and pain. A life without loneliness.

A letter to those who love abuse survivors

This is an adaptation of a letter I wrote to my girlfriend. Unprepared for the side of me to surfaces when I am triggered, she did and said all the wrong things in her attempt to help. In my hyper-emotional state, I rewarded her efforts with what can only be described as verbal abuse. When I had finished the letter and re-read it, I realised that there much be many other partners of abuse survivors out there who have to deal with confusing emotional outbursts from their significant others. So I post it here, in the hope it will help someone else understand.

Darling,

First I want to start with an apology  I know that at times it is difficult to live with me. I know that sometimes I react in ways that are confusing. I promise you that I try to act like a rational adult, but sometimes I can't. I want you to know that it is not your fault. I accept full responsibility for my irrational and hurtful actions. It is my problem, and I am the only person who can change it. I am working hard at this, but it is still a work in progress and probably always will be.

However, I don't accept the blame. All the blame goes to the men who abused me and in doing so, rendered me emotionally handicapped.