IF SOMEBODY FINDS IT....MEH....

`````I've realized what has kept me from blogging in the past little bit. I had told only two people that I was keeping this blog, and I trust them implicitly. I've also been very secretive about the topic matter I sometimes cover; specifically, the fact that I write about victim's rights and childhood abuse at times. For you see, I had only told those same two people about it.

`````When my friend's book came out, and he too started his blog to promote its sale, I posted a comment. That's when my little hobby came to light. That's also when he found out about some of the issues in my past. I'd been very hesitant in making any comment on my friend's site, for fear of any common acquaintances or people at work figuring out who I was. Why? There's still a stigma to being a victim. As though a little kid deserved what happened to them. Despite my degree, and all the courses, I should certainly know better. Intellectually, I do. Coming to that acceptance is something else. I still feel that people can hold it against me. I haven't wanted to log on for fear of finding a comment from somebody who knows me.

`````I began my blog because of my migraines and the medication. I don't know if anybody saw the video from a month ago of the newscaster "losing it" on air, but sometimes, words elude me. This makes me hesitant to speak, for I fear that I sound either stoned or "slow." Neither option is good. I take Topamax to deal with my chronic headaches, and a side-effect for me is that the word is sometimes "there," but just won't come.

`````Writing has also always been a way for me to work things out; a way to come to terms with what's really bothering me. As a child, I've written that books helped me cope with my depression. After my encounter with my friend's father, I fell into a deep and profound despair. I read everything that I could find in the library even remotely related to the topic. I was probably the only ten year old who knew complex psychiatric terms.

`````So, why should I still feel this shame? I went on to study to Criminology. When I look at old school photos of myself, I know that I was no match for an adult male. I can have no way of knowing who I might have been had this not taken place. I understand that it changed me. I know that our system of justice would never let me take this person and lock him up, starve him to half his weight, force him to take laxatives and other unknown substances, exercise himself to the limit, injure himself physically....No; all of this would be classified as torture. Yet, I did it to myself.

`````If somebody finds my blog and wants to complain about it, so be it. I've decided that I am not going to stop writing (unless my computer finally dies). I could not help my friend, all those many years ago. Given the stigma I feel, I can only imagine what she must have felt like, as a child. I understand now what she must have gone through, and I grieve for her. But it's time that all victims stop incorporating the pain and guilt as their fault. I wish that I could find comfort in religion, as I could then believe that these evil people got theirs in the end. Alas, I see people opting to do bad deeds and not suffering in the least. Enough has been taken from me. In some parallel universe, there is the girl and the woman that I might have been. Every so often, I catch a glimpse of her. She is not me; she doesn't keep people at arm's length. She is the person who took on all challenges, who could out run every other kid in school and won a top athletic award. That woman, the one that I am not, scored high academically. I refuse to be denied the ability to write because somebody might see it. I still dream that one day I might write something that saves another kid the grief.