I’ve been thinking about the memories that I have been having. They are dark, ugly, and intensely horrifying. Sometimes, I don’t actually think on purpose, they just come in to my mind. Others times, I try to make some sense of them, which I have also learned not to try too hard to do. They perplex me. They make me feel…I don’t know…bad. That’s all that comes to me right now. I feel bad. I feel bad for thinking them. I feel like a bad person. All the time.

Last night I was out with my husband and my mind wandered as he drove towards home. I thought about the themes that my memories have displayed. There are buildings. I have several memories of being driven to, taken to, and carried to buildings. I also have memories of being in buildings, not knowing how I got there. They are sterile in nature. Concrete walls. Dark, gray, eerie, gloomy. One is brighter on the inside, with light yellow walls and smooth white floors, like a scientific lab, with gray beds that look like hospital stretchers lined up along the walls. The windows are long and narrow and line the top of the walls…too high for me to see out or others to see in from the outside. The frames are black and splits each one into two rectangle shaped panes. In this building I am sitting with my wrists bound to a chair. The feeling in my body is totally gone. I feel nothing. I only see myself in this chair and a woman standing in front of me, slightly off to my right side, with long dark hair. She is wearing a white lab coat and is holding a large, thick, long needle that moves towards my arm. She says to me, “This is going to hurt.” I remember nothing after that.

In another very dark building, I remember laying on a very hard surface that I want to describe as concrete. My first memory on this was violently and repeatedly getting my head banged on that “concrete table.” When I remember this, I feel the jolts in my body and the sickness from what was happening. I was a child. Maybe 9-10 years old. I don’t know for sure, but that’s what it feels like. I want to cry but I’m too scared. I don’t know why it’s happening or who is doing it but I sense maybe it could be my father. I am not sure about this, though. There is unbelievable rage happening all around me as my body is pounding up and down and my head ricochets upwards with each rhythmic growl and grunt I hear coming from the one who is hurting me. In my second memory involving this table there are men surrounding me. I see their shadows and I can hear sounds but can’t make out specific words. It feels like a dream. A man stands between my legs and repeatedly thrusts his body into mine while gripping my thighs with what must be very large hands as I feel them tightly wrapped around my entire leg, or maybe I am just small compared to him. I am gone emotionally. I don’t know what I am feeling…nothing actually, I just see this happening. I also see a doorway to my left, with a white glow coming from beyond, as I lay there and stare at the darkness above me.

In other memories I see hallways and tunnels. In one I feel my legs dangling as someone carries me away and in another I am walking down one and enter a concrete room with a dingy, yellowed window, with 8 small panes. There are boxes all around me and a man and a woman under a blanket in the corner. In another memory, I see myself in a vehicle that stops in some sort of dark tunnel at a “toll booth” type building. There is a girl with dark hair inside. The man driving the car brings her into the car. There is a gap in memory here, but he later lifts her out of the car and back into the booth type building. The next thing I remember is looking out the car window and seeing her stare at me and look down at her leg. I look too and her foot is missing and her leg is bloody and hanging in shreds. She isn’t crying. She just stares at me. The next thing I remember is a man driving me away through a tunnel to another building.

I had another memory of standing in the woods. Everything is brown. There are leaves on the ground and tall trees surround me. In front of me, to my right, is a girl hanging lifeless from a tree. Her long, dark, wavy hair hangs down over her face and dangling head. Her shoulders are slumped and her feet are bare. There are men standing all around. One standing right next to me (my father?) and others further off at varying distances into the woods. There are three men talking near a gray pick-up truck that is parked in front of a concrete block building with long dark windows at the top and a black steel door. I don’t move. No one is helping her. No one is even looking at her, except me.

I had a dream about 10 days ago that involved my husband and children. In my dream, he was driving us all somewhere and he passed out in the car. I jumped into the drivers seat and managed to get the car pulled over and stopped in a church parking lot. Then he gets out of the car and started wandering and he disappeared around a pond and passed out again. I send my children away and told them I would call an ambulance. The children drive away and my husband is wandering again and fell into the pond. There are many people around and it was raining. My phone wouldn’t work. I started asking people to call 911 for me but no one would acknowledge me or help me. I went into the church and asked someone else and they wouldn’t answer. I was crying and walking all over the church, into the dark hallways and into the basement trying to find anyone. I was panicking and wet and my husband was missing and in the pond. I asked some children to help me. They just looked at me. Everyone I asked just looked at me. I asked a woman to call 911 and I think she did so I went back through the dark hallways and basement to get back outside to look for him. I had no shoes on and found some outside the door and went looking for my husband and the police. No one would talk to me. There were people and pick-up trucks in the pond but they were not looking for him. I didn’t know what to do. No one would help me or talk to me and I was frantic and scared and just looking for help and no one would help. I woke up at this point of the dream and I just cried.

Buildings, dark hallways, basements, needles, lab coats, groups of men, pick-up trucks. Driving in tunnels. Other young girls in distress with no emotion on their faces. Never knowing what’s going on or where I am or how I got there. It’s all in my thoughts and memories and dreams. I was piecing it all together last night and finally broke the silence in the car and asked my husband if he thought my father could have been part of a cult. He simply and quickly said “yes.”

His answer surprised me. I asked him how and he listed all the activities my father is involved in and how “cult like” they are. I felt stupid for asking and dropped the subject. My feelings now are still “I’m bad.” How could I even think something like this? I don’t even know if any of this is true. I have no concrete proof outside my thoughts and I am constantly second guessing everything I say, think and do. This…me…is crazy.

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12 thoughts on “Finding Themes…

  1. It is good you asked your husband. I’m sure he told you the truth. My first husband asked me if my father slept around on my mom. I said, “Of course not. My father is religious.” He said, “He talks like he does.” My husband was right. I found out years later.

    I am so sorry you went through such horrific things. For some reason, we children feel like we are bad because of it. I know a blogger who went through someting like you did. I’ll go get her address.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. It’s interesting how we blame ourselves so much for what others are doing and become so blind during the manipulation as to what is really happening to us…just the way they want it, I suppose. We definitely need others to help us see sometimes.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. You are and will never be bad…I am so sorry you are having such dark and awful memories..I also recommend Imani’s page above..She has been through similar experiences, as well as Alexis Roses ‘Untangled’. Trust your memories..Sending you much love and strength ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Deep down I know this is true. I think it’s that frightened part of me that takes over and convinces me that I am the one who is bad, reinforcing the messages of my past that were programmed in to me to make me think that way. And yes, my therapist is very good with helping me process these as they come, but in a balanced way and at a slow pace. I get so overwhelmed pretty quickly and I shut down and can’t talk anymore which is so frustrating sometimes. Something triggers me into silence and I can’t share what’s happening in my head even though I might really want or need to. He knows when I need a break from processing and he’ll shift the focus onto other important things like my faith and self care and stabilization, which I appreciate.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. I’m a ritual abuse survivor. It sounds very much like SRA memories 😔 You’re not crazy…it’s just your past was. Have you read the book Untangled? By Alexis Rose. I think you’ll relate to it a lot based on these memories xx hugs

    Liked by 1 person

  4. I started reading this and my breath caught. It’s almost as if you stepped inside my head for a moment. I’m so sorry for what you went through. You are not bad, and you are not crazy. I believe we tell ourselves we are crazy when the truth is far too overwhelming. Be gentle with yourself.

    Liked by 1 person

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