Which came first?

I have noticed something really interesting today.  I’ve been aware for a long time that many people seem to find me easy to talk to and confide to in, but never really gave it too much thought.  If I am honest, it’s probably because a situation has never arisen before, where the information that has been confided to me should really have been discussed with someone else.  And that got me thinking.  Somehow, I must send out some sort of signal that makes me seem more approachable and the question this raises for me is this – have I always been approachable and that is part of how I ended up a victim, or has this part of me developed because of all that I have been through.

To me, it’s a really interesting question and one that, because I have come so far over the last few years, I can actually face and mull over without getting mired in the ‘why me’s’ and ‘what if’s’. 

So I wonder, has this approachable part of me always existed?  And if it has, was that what made me prey to Alex’s attentions?  Is there a facet of my personality/make up that rendered me susceptible to the abuse?  And if so, is there any way that I could take that knowledge and use it to help others who would otherwise not have a clue.  Because really, being approachable is a good thing.  It enables others with burdens the chance to offload on someone else.

On the other hand, does this part of me exist because I was a Victim?  Is it because of the trials I have survived that has brought out this part of me?  And then, does that not mean that something good has come out of something terrible?  Do I in fact owe Alex a strange kind of thank you?  Because I love it when people come to me when they need someone to talk to.  I love the fact that people who don’t really know me very well find it easy to confide in me.  And it gives me even more reason to go on and adds to my self confidence and sense of self worth.

Either way, what Alex did to me robbed me of so much, but as I have healed, it seems that I have got back what he stole with interest.  Because I have been in such a terrible place I can better appreciate the things that to others would seem small and inconsequential.  I was talking to a friend the other day and the words I spoke have stayed with me ever since.  These days I appreciate the bad things in my life because without the darkness, we would be unable to appreciate the light.  The dark night sky only serves to draw our attention to the beauty of the stars.

And so it is in my life.  I can look back on my life and it makes me appreciate even more, all that I now have.

Musings and ramblings

Who would have thought that coming to work in a war zone would introduce me to other Survivors!!  It seems so strange to me that I came out here to help myself heal and whilst that has happened, I have also met up with other Survivors and have been able to help them on their path to recovery.

It was not something that even crossed my mind when I applied for this job and when I shared my blog on Facebook I never thought that any of my new friends and colleagues would be affected by my posts.  Yet this is exactly what has happened.

The first approach was not a complete surprise if I am honest.  I had already got to know the person involved, but had never been in the situation where I was able to question them about their past.  But I just got that feeling.  Something like recognising parts of myself in someone else and knowing where those parts originated and how they came about.  The revelation that this person was also a Victim raised mixed feelings in me of course.  Firstly sadness that here was another person who’d had their childhood stolen, then happiness that my blog had given them the strength they needed to talk about what had happened to them.  Because being able to share our pain is really important.  We all experience it differently, but it is nice to know we aren’t alone.

The second person was a shock at first, but once I had reflected on it, so much made sense.  Isn’t it funny how sometimes things are staring us straight in the face, but for whatever reason, we just don’t see it.

But since then, I have become firm friends with both of these people and it has only added to my belief that I really am helping by working out here.  Maybe not in any big ways, but a little at a time.  And my determination to keep working on this blog has been reinforced.

So, to those who follow it, I am sorry that I have been so erratic in my postings over the last few months.  My new environment has been very distracting and I admit, that as I have healed myself, I haven’t felt the need to post as strongly as I did before.  But I can now see how selfish that is and will make every effort to mend my ways.  My healing continues, and hopefully by sharing it with you I can reach out to others who will be helped by my ramblings.

I am thriving!!

Right now I am feeling somewhat reflective.  I have just returned to work after a five week holiday and stretching in from of me is another 6 month tour.  It’s purely my choice of course, but I have started really thinking about why I am here and what I hope to get out of it in the end, especially in the light of the events of the last couple of weeks.

To be honest, when I returned this time I did not get the posting that I was hoping for.  I was deeply disappointed, but accepted the fact that everything was not about me out here, so decided to get on with the job in hand and make the best of it.  A few days later an opportunity arose which I would never have had if I’d got what I wanted originally.  I am now heading in an entirely different direction, but am still want to focus on the reason I came here in the first place – to serve.

Then we had our ‘incident’ and I started to really think about my reasons for taking on this job.  Was it really entirely selfless or was there an element of selfishness in the choice?  And the more I have thought about it, the more I have realised that the two go hand in hand.  Yes, I want to do something for others.  I want to make other people’s lives better in any way I can.  Because at the end of the day, this is what makes me feel worthwhile.  This is what gives me a reason to live.

And then it struck me – I have never felt this good about myself!  I have never had this much self-confidence!  And for the first time ever, I am not putting on a front or a performance to fool people into believing that I am something that I am not.  I am actually being me!  The real ‘me’ has finally come to the fore!  I am stunned.  And I am overjoyed. 

I’ve accepted that what has happened in my past is just that – in the past.  It no longer has a hold over me and the pain is no longer unbearable.  In fact, I really, truly know that my past has made me a better person in many ways that more than make up for all that was taken from me.  I finally believe that I have moved on not from a Victim to a Survivor, but from a Survivor to a Thriver.  And it gives me such a thrill to be able to type that, knowing in my heart of hearts that it is true.

I think I will probably be posting fairly regularly over the next few weeks as I need to record all these feelings that are flowing through me and all the thoughts rolling around in my head.  I also want to share it with those who follow my blog, especially those who have given me so much support over the last few years.  

Thinking!

I’ve been thinking quite a lot since my last blog post, about the fact that now I am feeling so much happier and more confident, I am telling fewer people about the issues from my past.  In the main, I rarely mention these days that I am, in fact, a Chronic Depressive.

And while I am sure I will continue to thrive, I wonder how I would cope if the rug was suddenly pulled out from underneath me.  For example, right now my job is my life.  It fulfils the need in me to serve others and almost every day something comes along to reinforce the knowledge that what I am doing makes a positive difference to other people.

I know my boys are doing okay back home without me.  I have the support of all those who really matter to me and many I would never have expected it from.

But what if things go badly wrong?  Am I strong enough yet to deal with it?  Especially when I am so far away from all those who know me, who may recognise the signs and who could possibly pull me back from the edge if it comes to that.

So, I think about it and wonder whether I should be ensuring that those around me over here are aware of where I have been and what could happen.  Should I take a few people into my confidence and spill the whole sorry story?  And give them some idea of what to watch out for?  Or would that be feeding back into the guilt I’d most likely feel, because people are worried about me?

And of course, it all comes back to the question – have I come far enough from the brink to ensure that I won’t fall over the edge again?

Changed for the better

Today I was looking back over the last two years and considering all that has happened.  And it amazes me!  Truly, I am not the same person.  In fact, very little remains of the woman who believed she was so worthless that people would be better off if she was dead.  I don’t know how much of it can be attributed to the various therapies I underwent or the different medications I still take, but I do know that three major factors have contributed to my moving away from being a Survivor and becoming a Thriver.

First and foremost – my sons!  Without their support in the days following my failed attempt, I know that I would have tried again – successfully.  I learned enough to know exactly where I went wrong and how to combat that failure.  That knowledge will always be with me, stored in the back of my mind, like a security blanket.  But my boys were amazing, taking me in, caring for me and not just telling me but actually showing me that I was loved and valued.  Yes, it took me a while to accept that their actions were more than a mere familial reaction, but eventually that understanding came.

Secondly came my return to the stage.  Not only did this provide me with a route towards escapism – it also let me do something that I know I am good at.  And as a result it allowed my confidence to begin building.  Naturally, being surrounded by like-minded people helped, but the fact that they were and still are a wonderful group of people was an added bonus.  I know that I have true friends who care about me and will be there for me when I need them, just as I would be in return.  And amazingly, now I can accept that.  I no longer feel that I don’t deserve it.

But the final factor I believe, is the one that has made the most difference, something I would never have been able to do without the first two.  And that is coming to Afghanistan.  I know I only work in a shop, but on a daily basis I get the opportunity to serve men and women who have made a conscious choice to put their lives on the line for their country.  When they come to me, hot and tired, stressed or sad, I can share a smile, help them to laugh. 

Of course I do provide access to the cold drinks and other items that they need, but to me that is actually only a small part of what I do.  I have seen it day in and day out – that expression of deep satisfaction as I hand them a cold drink with a smile on my face and even a little banter.  The exchange of money seems inconsequential in the grand scheme of things, though it is obviously a necessary evil.

But to think that not so long ago I believed that I was worthless and now when someone calls me a legend or an angel, I can smile and say ‘it’s only a pleasure ‘, without feeling like a fraud.

2 Years Later

A couple of things happened today which have made me realise just how far I have come in less than two years.

To put things in perspective consider this – two years ago, I started putting in place my plan to end it all.  I believed that my life was worthless and that no one would particularly care if I was no longer around.  In fact, I believed that everyone would be better off without me there to mess up their lives.

Less than two years ago, I put my plan into action.  I can now say that I am happy that my research was not quite as good as I thought it was and I failed.  And funnily enough, now that I know where I went wrong I have absolutely no intention of using that information now, or in the future.  Never again will I grant HIM that power over me.  Because I can now accept that my life does have some value!

Okay, so I still have low self-esteem and I still doubt myself a lot, but the way I feel now bears no resemblance to the way I felt two years ago.  The incidents today have shown me that.

Neither occurrence was anything huge – simply customers making positive comments about me.  One stated that he loved coming into the shop at the end of a hard day and seeing my ‘beautiful smile’.  His words, not mine.  The second incident actually involved a group of younger customers, frequent visitors to the shop.  After bantering back and forth with them, which mostly involved me insulting them and them trying to defend themselves, one of them turned round and told me I was ‘a legend’!!  I was somewhat taken aback and laughed – only for these young men whose work involves them risking their own lives for others, to assure me that the banter we share regularly in the shop cheers them up and distracts them from where they are and why they are here.

I realised that I do that!  Yes, of course, that is why I wanted to come here, but the offshoot of it is that my own self-esteem has been boosted.  I actually feel better about myself and not so bitter about the life that Alex stole from me!  How is that for a positive result? 

And the strangest part of it all?  I enjoyed the compliments!  They made me feel good.  Instead of laughing it off and believing ‘I had them fooled’ I accepted that I had made a difference to their day and I felt good about myself.  Even now, hours later, I still feel positive and satisfied that I have done something worthwhile.

Drought and Rain

This post is totally off topic and like nothing I have ever posted before, but considering the unusual situation I am now in and the fact that it is Mother’s Day I feel justified in sharing something different.

I may be in the middle of a war zone, miles from my home and my roots, but that doesn’t mean that I don’t get the news.  And the latest thing to catch my eye is talk of a drought in England.  Now remember, I am on a military base, in the middle of the desert!  And of course, I grew up in a country where we knew the true meaning of drought!  It wasn’t a case of we didn’t get enough rain during the previous rainy season, but rather we didn’t get ANY rain in the previous rainy season.  Or the one before that.  Or the one before that!  And it brings to mind a funny but rather fortuitous event which I’d like to share.

As I have said before, my mother was a very active fundraiser in our community when I was growing up.  She staged many a variety show, pantomime and fashion show over the years with the proceeds going to various causes.  Around 1985 (I am not too sure of the exact year) she decided to stage a fashion show with a bit of a difference.  Instead of using the theatre as the venue, she decided to use the pool deck of the local hotel.

As per usual, the fashion show was not merely a bunch of models walking up and down the catwalk, but included appropriate routines to show off the clothes to their best advantage.  The catwalk itself ran along the side of the swimming pool and the audience were seated around the open terrace.  The issue of rain was raised on a number of occasions, but naturally we all laughed and brushed it off.  After all, it hadn’t rained in Redcliff for 4 years!

One of the routines we did was during the sportswear section of the show.  It involved a number of girls and women, wearing various items of sports gear, doing an exercise routine a la the dance workouts that were so popular at the time.  One model, who shall remain anonymous, had great difficulties mastering a specific section of the routine.  It wasn’t that it was complicated, but more a case of she wasn’t a dancer and therefore was unaccustomed to memorising a series of steps and movements.  She really tried, but we teased her endlessly and no-one had much hope that she would get it right on the night.  In fact, it was often jokingly stated that if she did get it, it would probably pour with rain..... have you figured it out?

She did get it right on the night!  And the silly moo then proceeded to jump up and down and proclaim to the audience at large ‘I got it!  I got it!’  The rest of us endeavoured not to dissolve into fits of giggles and to continue with the routine in a professional manner – as the heavens opened and the rain we hadn’t had for the previous 4 years descended on us within the space of about 5 minutes.  And no!  We didn’t just run inside!  We were too shocked!  We just stood there like statues.  Just as the audience froze in their seats.  And once we were all well and truly soaked, everyone rushed for shelter!  Amid much laughter. 

It speaks a lot about our community that no one asked for their ticket money back.  It also speaks volumes that the local club immediately offered facilities for us to relocate the show and continue.  An hour or so after the heavens opened, we recommenced the show.  Maybe the environment was not as attractive, nor did we have the catwalk or decorations.  Instead of a dressing room, we changed in the toilets.  But there was no mistaking the joy in the room – the drought was broken, we were all well and a member of our cast had got it right!  And my amazing mother triumphed again!

Where ever you are Mom, whether you are looking down on me and watching over me, I miss you and I love you and I thank you for giving me so many wonderful memories to share with those I care about.  Happy Mother’s Day to the best Mother anyone could ever ask for xxx

Loss

Well, for the first time I am writing a blog post not knowing when I will be able to publish it.  Op Minimise is on here, for the second time in as many days.  In fact, it has now been on for more than twenty four hours, after the first instance lasting nearly 8 hours.  And it has made me think and reflect on the feelings of those affected by what has been going on here.

I know how it feels to lose a loved one.  Losing both my parents within 6 months of each other was nothing short of devastating, probably made worse by the confusing dynamic within my family.  My parents were among the few people who I had told about what Alex did to me and although their initial reaction was not exactly supportive, once they got over the shock, they did the best that they could.  I fully understand that they found it difficult to talk about and to face up to.  As a parent myself that makes sense to me.   I know that if I was in their position, I would feel that I had let my child down and failed as a parent.

And yet, I have never felt that way.  I don’t believe they let me down and I do not blame them for not protecting me from Alex.  I formed an unholy alliance with him, as a result of his veiled threats and although I tried in small ways to lead people to an awareness of what was being done to me, I can see now that it wasn’t enough!  Not in the less aware era of the 1970’s when child sexual abuse was not something that people were really aware of.

But to get back to the point of this post.  Losing a loved one.  Yes, I lost my parents, but I cannot imagine the pain of losing a son or daughter, a husband or a wife.  I can only think of how I would feel if I lost one of my sons and my heart breaks for the family and friends of those who have lost their lives here over the last couple of days. 

There is an air of sadness across the camp although most of us do not know exactly what has happened.  We are probably less informed than those back in the UK which has led to a lot of speculation.  I’m not sure whether what we are imagining is worse or better than what has really happened (if anything could be considered better in the circumstances). 

But it certainly makes one appreciate one’s own mortality.  Two years ago, I didn’t believe that my death would affect those around me, as I thought no one cared that much.  Now I realise how mistaken I was.  But I also realise that my own self-worth depends a lot on my sons and their well-being.  And because of that, my heart goes out to those who have lost their loved ones.  I pray that they have a strong support structure to help them through the days ahead.

It's back again

I suppose it was inevitable, but I really had hoped it wouldn’t happen!  It’s back ... not debilitating – not even close to the level it has been in the past.  But back just the same.

Of course, I am talking about the Depression.  Yes, I know it was never truly gone, but it was so well masked by the medication that I honestly believed I had a handle on it.  I didn’t need the therapy any more, nor the support group.  Or so I thought.  And strangely, the fact that the Depression is back makes me more depressed!  I know the Doctor has told me that I will most likely battle with it for the rest of my life, but I was beginning to think that it would just be odd moments that would be numbed by the tablets.

Not so.  It’s a real kicker!  I feel inadequate and broken.  The feelings that I am not good enough are lurking in the back of my mind, niggling away at my consciousness and causing me to question everything I do and say.  Please, don’t think that I am saying that I feel anywhere near the absolute low that I experienced two years ago, because I don’t.  But the sad fact is that I need to accept that this is it.  This is what I will have to deal with for the rest of my life. 

And I look at the people around me and wonder how I would have turned out if I’d had their life.  Not so much their opportunities or lack thereof, but the sexual security with which they grew up.  I am again finding myself hating Alex for what he stole from me.  As much as I am telling myself that I cannot let him ruin the rest of my life, right now I am finding it hard to believe that.  I can’t seem to fight it.  The anger is building up inside me yet again and I admit, I am frightened!  I just don’t know how it will manifest itself this time around.

I question whether I will be able to control the destructive tendencies that take over my psyche.  One way or another, I always end up doing or saying something that results in pain.  Pain for me and pain for those who care about me.  And that is the one thing that I am clinging on to ... this time around I realise that there are people who care about me.  There are people out there to whom it matters whether I live or die.  And that makes the difference!

What is it?

A rhetorical question – what is it about me that makes people comfortable?  I honestly don’t know what it is but for some reason I seem to be able to talk to anyone and generally, people respond in a friendly manner.  In fact, in many cases if they are given the opportunity they will confide in me.

I don’t understand it.  It’s not that I don’t love it – I do!  But I question why it happens time and again.  Yes, I have learnt over the years to show my confident and together face to the world.  Very few people can see past the facade to the me who is cowering inside, dying cell by cell as I fear that I am being judged and found wanting.  So is it that false confidence that pulls people or is it something deeper?  Maybe a sense of the pain inside me?  Is there maybe some kind of signal that I give out that let’s people know that I have suffered and through that suffering, learned how to cope?

I stand in a shop each day, serving customer after customer.  I greet them all in the same way – with a smile and a friendly hello.  Of course, there are many occasions when I am dancing around, singing along to a song on the radio or generally goofing about.  But my nutty behaviour only seems to bring out the smiles.  And the chatter commences.  No matter what level the customer, how important their job or how tough their day, they mostly seem to respond with a smile and a willingness to chat. 

And it starts me wondering again – why are they willing to talk to me, a complete stranger?  Why are so many of them happy to discuss their personal circumstances with me when they really don’t know anything about me? 

In fact, I feel truly blessed.  I am thankful every day that I have – well, whatever it is!  I wish I knew what IT was, but I am grateful!

Differences

This is way off topic , but working with our Locally Employed Civilians (LECs) today brought home to me the way different people deal with various races and cultures.  I have always believed that we are all created equal and the only difference is how we deal with what we get in life.  Obviously some of us are more fortunate than others and receive many benefits in our lives, but I believe who we are is defined less by what we have than by what we do with what we’ve got.

Despite what happened to me as a child, I believe I had a good childhood.  I had a secure home, in a nice area.  I never wanted for clothing or food.  My education was well taken care of and really my only limitation was my lack of self-belief.  But my parents also raised me in such a way that skin colour meant very little to me.

Obviously, due to the law of the land, my exposure to different races was somewhat restrictive, but when the barriers came down it actually meant very little to me in real terms.  The confident and secure front I put on means I will happily interact with anyone – my problem lays within me and not with those around me.

Over the last couple of weeks I have been lucky to be exposed to a culture that is totally new to me.  I want to grow as a person and so am endeavouring to learn the local language.  Yes, it is hard and slow, but amazingly it has earned me the support and respect of our LECs.  And yet today I saw how a lack of respect for people of different races and cultures can directly affect how a person performs and behaves.  Never before have I seen this so clearly and it does make me look back at my life and wonder if I have always been fair and respectful to others.  I’d like to say that I have, but how to be sure?  I wish I knew!

--

'I believe that friends are quiet angels who lift us to our feet when our wings have trouble remembering how to fly' 

No, you don't know how I feel

Talking to a young squaddie today made me realise that no matter what your underlying problem there are still many parallels.

I’m not going to go into what his issue was, as that would be betraying what was told to me in confidence, but I can talk about the issues that it raised for me and how it relates to my own experiences.  It brings up the burning question – why do people believe that they know how you feel when they’ve been in a similar situation?  We are all unique; we feel things and react to situations differently.  And there are always contributing factors that differentiate one situation from another.

Okay, yes, I admit it – I am not the first one to have been sexually abused and as child and sadly, nor will I be the last.  But that does not mean that another victim would feel what I felt or react in the same way that I did/do.  I’m not trying to take away from the suffering of other victims, but my pain is unique to me.  You can have a basic understanding of what I feel, but you can never truly know.  That is not to say that I don’t appreciate it when someone offers me support and comfort, but it does mean that the eternal platitudes – I know how you feel, I’ve been there, etc – only result in the walls going up.

I would never have got to where I am now without the love and support of my friends and my boys, but ultimately the path to complete healing is mine alone to navigate.  I just hope that I can use what I have learned from my own experiences to ease the burden of even one person over here.  That is why I am here!  That is what keeps me going when the road ahead is dark.

Moving right along

Well, not entirely sure how to format when posting directly on to my blog, but as I am in an unusual situation this will just have to do for now.

Before I go any further, I would just like to leave a message for anyone new to my blog.  Yes, I am a Survivor of Child Sexual Abuse and that topic is central to my blog.  It isn't necessary to go back to the beginning of the blog and read all the postings, but it would certainly help to put things into perspective and give a much clearer picture of who I am and why.  So...

My journey as a Survivor continues.  To bring this blog up to date, here is a run down of where I am now and how I ended up here.

First of all - where am I?  Afghanistan.  Or to be more precise Camp Bastion in Afghanistan.  And that naturally leads to the question of how I ended up here.

Well, it must have become blatantly obvious to everyone who knows me by now or who has been following my story so far, that I have exceptionally low self-esteem.  I feel valueless and like a waste of space most of the time and to compensate I do things to help other people, even if it is only to make them smile.  By doing that, I then feel that I am worth something.  Yes, yes, yes, I have been told hundreds of times that I am better than that, but no matter how hard I try I just can't believe it.

So, I heard about a job that involved working in the shops on military bases in Afghanistan.  Upon investigating it, I found that the whole ethos of the organisation (which I cannot name) is to bring a little bit of home to troops serving in war zones overseas.  Staff are recruited as much for their skills as for their personalities and their outlook on life.  A prerequisite is an ability to smile and listen, no matter how difficult the situation.

I jumped at the opportunity and after a six month battle with illness, here I am.  And I am awestruck!!  How could someone like me be given such an amazing opportunity?  At first, upon landing here, everything seemed somewhat surreal.  Then, whilst travelling by bus between camps I witnessed a casualty being flown in ... suddenly where I was became all too real.  Up to that point, despite a number of explosions and the constant sound of aircraft, 24 hours a day, I felt more like I was on holiday! 

Even more sobering, the next day when Op Minimise was announced - a soldier had died and all our lines of communication with the world outside camp were terminated until his or her family had been notified.  I almost held my breath for the next few hours, waiting for Op Minimise to be declared over, thinking of that poor family, receiving such devastating news whilst we all lived another day thinking only of ourselves.  It has certainly made me think.