ummm…yeah, it’s like that.

Dear Doc,

I’m having a pretty big spin out today. I’ve been a lil outta sorts, but not in an angry way. It really started last night while I was chatting with a friend online…

You know, many of us suffered abuse as children. It’s a disgusting fact of life that,  I believe, has spared no generation since time began. There is no type of child abuse that doesn’t leave a scar. However, there are some types of abuse that devastate you…that level you like a bomb went off in your soul. You grow up keeping secrets; your own and those of your abusers. The more twisted the secret, the quieter you keep. Even as a child, you are keenly aware that there are things so wicked in this world that nobody would believe they even exist unless they actually saw the evil with their own eyes. Even more so, the gravity of the consequences, should you tell a living soul, could cost you your own.

Having been a keeper of wicked secrets, I have flown under that particular radar for almost my entire 50 years of living. Until last night, during an online chat with a friend. He just came out and asked me if I’d experienced a certain type of abuse. I was so taken aback that I answered him before I could think of a way to avoid the question. I don’t like to lie, so I don’t, but I will avoid the fuck out of pretty much anything that would be more easily lied about. Yep…I’m not as hard of hearing as some think I am. 😉


Doc, I guess that, what I really want, is a guarantee that this will go away.  I don’t want to discuss it, and I don’t want it to be at the forefront of my mind. If you could see what I saw, and experience what I did, you’d understand why. It’s the same reason that I don’t watch gory movies, or movies with demons in them. It’s why I don’t do a lot of things. It’s why I didn’t fight back at Randy’s party that time…or ever. I just can’t fight it, or what it did to me. And now, I’ve gone and told someone. I am ashamed. Humiliated, really, though that was never his intention by asking that question.

I cannot bear the thought of being thought of, in any way, as a victim. I know you don’t understand why, but I can’t explain it to you. It’s just the worst thing anyone could ever be. And I know that I could’ve figured out a way to…I don’t know…but even children can do something about things like that. Right? I had one teacher who, I think, would’ve listened to me. I’m not sure she’d have believed what I had to say, though. I couldn’t risk it. So, yes, I’m fucking indignant about some of your diagnoses because they make me sound like a stupid bitch. Your labels make me feel guilty and wrong and so goddamned ashamed. I know it isn’t your fault. And, I’m not mad at you. But, you have to try to see things from where I stand. I know you do try, but I’m not sure that you’ve led the type of life that allows you to really consider depravity on a certain level.

You know that I never told Bennie? I think he knew, because I do have some strange habits. Even though I’m a Christian, I still make and carry charms and have a few ritualistic idiosyncrasies. I know God doesn’t like that and I really need to change it. I guess that I’m afraid to. I wish I could say why, but I don’t think you could handle it, Doc. You’re such a kind person and you’re so peaceful that I would never want someone like you to know.  There are some very bad people in this world. That’s what I know more than anything. There are some really great ones, too. So, I just want to really try to be like them and forget the other stuff. Ok?

I better go, Doc. I have only slept three hours in the last two days. I feel amazing and horrible at the same time. I feel like bugs are crawling all over me and, now and then, I see one on my arm. They don’t look real…it’s like the kind I told you about. It just drives me absolutely nuts. But, I’m good. In fact, I’m kinda great, sleep or no sleep…my life is changing, already.

Okay, I’m outta here. Fat Pat ain’t gonna listen to himself! 🙂

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