Cherish Freedom

My Healing Journey From Mormon Ritual Abuse To Freedom

Fuck the Police… September 25, 2012

Filed under: My Story — cherishfreedom @ 10:31 pm
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Got a phone call today from this girl from the police victim services in my city… This is probably about the fourth time I’ve talked to her on the phone, and I honestly don’t know why she calls me. I don’t know what the point of the victim services here is. Apparently they are all volunteers and all they do is offer telephone support and refer you to services in the community that might help you (like counselling or something). Before this girl started calling me every week or two it was a guy that was calling me for like a month every week and at this point I feel like they’re fucking harrassing me. They don’t and can’t do shit for me, they know that, I’ve told them that. The city I live in has very VERY limited resources, and I have tried them all, the resources I am already accessing are the best and the only ones that will work for me. In fact, I informed these two volunteers of at least five different “resources” that they didnt even know about… They are both young, you can tell that by their voices, and they don’t know shit about the real world, I can tell that by the conversations I’ve had with them. All fucking optimistic, thinking the cops are gonna help me, thinking I’m gonna magically feel happy, it fucking pisses me off…. Finally the guy stopped calling me after I was pretty blunt with him about not wanting to talk to him. But fuck man, this girl starts calling me a week later…. I have been talking to them a bit, but my purpose is not to get “emotional support” (even though that may be what they think they are giving me…), it is to educate them on how FUCKED UP the police system really is. I tell them parts of my story to let them know that there are people like me who have been totally fucked around and victimized even more by the cops, THE COPS ARE NOT ALWAYS THE FUCKING GOOD GUYS….. I told the girl today that its a lie we are all told when we are kids…that if somebody hurts us it is wrong and we should go to the police and the police will get the bad person who hurt us. That’s a straight up lie we tell kids. The cops don’t help abuse victims… that’s why the reporting statistics are so fucking low, the victims know the chances of justice are so slim.

As to why some chipper, naive, young, victim services volunteers keep harrassing me by phone…. that’s because the cop I was speaking to here referred me to them and then never got back to me with the information she was supposedly getting for me. Long story, but this cop was trying to find out why the cops in the province I lived in my whole life have never ever helped me in all my dealings with them over the past 14 years. She got a bunch of information, but there was more…. it was fucked  up…..anyway… I haven’t heard from her in a couple months. I guess she figures victim services is good enough. Cops aren’t gonna help me no matter what I do.

Yes, I have a really huge issue with the police, the whole police system, the way it works. And specifically my dealings with them throughout my life. I have tried so many times to report abuse to them and they’ve called me crazy and a liar. Literally. Pretty much every time. I do know that much. I hate the police. They have traumatized and victimized me so much more than I was already being traumatized and victimized.

And now this cop in my new city, saying she was going to do just a small thing, get information for me. And she can’t even do that. No contact. Refer me to victim services. To these well-meaning but completely naive and annoying kids who keep calling and harrassing me. Fuck its annoying. I just wish that the cops would help…. I WANT justice. I WANT them to do something. I WANT some guidance and support as to what the fuck I am supposed to do to get these incompetent assholes to do something…. Fourteen YEARS of the cops calling me crazy and a liar….. Yeah I’m fucking mad…

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Torturous Memories September 24, 2012

Filed under: Abuse,My Story,PTSD,Ritual Abuse — cherishfreedom @ 11:52 am
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The days drag by so slowly when I have to live minute by minute, surviving the pain, waiting for a reprieve, a minute’s reprieve, then back to the pain again. It’s not that I am sitting here wallowing in my misery, in my memories of abuse and torment. I am working fucking hard, trying to do all the right things. I am fucking exhausted trying to do all the right things. Practicing grounding and mindfulness exercises from my counsellor, writing, making art, reading, playing with my cat, and on and on… The negative coping skills I am using are so few, I am trying SO FUCKING HARD. So, its not me…. my mind just won’t give me a break… The abuse and torture, terror and trauma just won’t go away, I can’t forget it anymore, it’s in the front of my mind all the time. And it’s HELL.

 

I told my counsellor I think what I need is to actually tell her what happened to me. I have never really told someone my story of abuse, just bits and pieces. I need to tell her what’s in my head, all the memories are tormenting me and nothing I am doing is making them any less… I just don’t know where to start talking. The memories I am having are so jumbled up. When I see my counsellor it feels so rushed, so inadequete, one hour a week…I have no idea what to start with…

 

My days of memories/flashbacks/nightmares are not in chronological order. One minute I will be triggered by something that will send me into a flashback of being in child porn at age 7, and then a half hour later I will start having flashbacks of something that happened at age 3, then age 21, then age 9. So throughout the day, I have had memories of all sorts of different abuses, often by more than just one abuser, and with me at many different ages of my life… And the memories are never ever in chronological order in how they come to me throughout the day or the week. Its fucking confusing! And exhausting!!! And then I go see my counsellor for one hour a week, and she doesn’t know very much at all about ritual abuse even, or my story, and I have NO IDEA what to say…I just cry, and get frustrated, and just have no idea what the fuck to say. And then she says things that are not applicable at all to what’s going on with me and I feel like she doesn’t understand me at all, which she doesn’t, because I wasn’t explaining myself, I was too overwhelmed…

 

Fuck….how do I start telling my story of being trapped in incest and a ritual abuse group/cult for 26 years? I need to tell someone what happened to me….and I don’t have the words. It’s torturing me and I need to get it out, but I don’t know what the fuck to say even when there is someone there ready to hear it…

 

“With a Broken Wing” Song by Martina McBride September 21, 2012

Filed under: Abuse,Healing — cherishfreedom @ 8:31 pm
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Even though I generally can’t stand country music, there are some songs that I just love because they are beautiful and the lyrics are so meaningful to me. I listened to this song on my ipod over and over again on my greyhound bus trip when I fled for the last time, from the province I was living before to place I live now. It still makes me cry, but it makes me feel strong too, because I know that my dad, the cult, nobody can fully break me, even though they almost did, so many times… I got away, and they will never break my spirit.
WITH A BROKEN WING

With a broken wing, she carries her dreams
Man, you ought to see her fly

She loved him like he was the last man on earth
Gave him everything she ever had
He’d break her spirit down, then come lovin’ up on her
Give a little, then take it back

She’d tell him ’bout her dreams, he’d just shoot ’em down
Lord, he loved to make her cry
“You’re crazy for believing you’ll ever leave the ground”
He said, “Only angels know how to fly”

And with a broken wing, she still sings
She keeps an eye on the sky
With a broken wing, she carries her dreams
Man, you ought to see her fly

One Sunday morning, she didn’t go to church
He wondered why she didn’t leave
He went up to the bedroom, found a note by the window
With the curtains blowing in the breeze

And with a broken wing, she still sings
She keeps an eye on the sky
With a broken wing, she carries her dreams
Man, you ought to see her fly

With a broken wing, she carries her dreams
Man, you ought to see her fly

 

 

Being Silenced September 19, 2012

Filed under: Abuse,Mormonism,My Story,Ritual Abuse — cherishfreedom @ 3:40 pm
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I want to go back to the city/town I lived in as a child (from age 10-17) and visit a whole bunch of the mormon church members there. There are so many unanswered questions I have. From many of them, the most involved cult members, I will never get any answers, and I would never speak with them anyway- there would be no point to speak to so-called humans as evil as they are. The mormons I do want to speak to are the ones who knew me as a teenager, when the abuse was at its most severe, and when I was going through the most hellish period of my life. The mormons who knew about the abuse and yet covered it up. Who did nothing, who silenced me, who were involved in the cult in a peripheral way, or not at all, but who I asked for help and they turned their backs on me.

 

My teenage years were not in any way what one could call “normal”. My first psych ward admission was at the age of 12, and that was to an adult psych ward because there was no adolescent psych ward anywhere near us. Between the ages of 12 and 17 I must have been admitted to that (and a few other) pych wards more than 20 times. This obviously made normal schooling impossible. I was technically enrolled from grades 9-12 at the same public high school, but did more than half of my schooling in hospital in distance learning books, or from homework sent home from teachers. I was the “crazy girl” at school, which I didn’t mind, I wasn’t there much anyway. I was a loner, my two friends were the deaf girl and the witch, hahaha. And when I was there I skipped class to cry in the bathroom. I was what they call “emo” before that existed (but with too-short thrift store clothes and long blonde mormon hair!!!).  Oh yeah, and I ran away from the abuse at home ALL the time, so I would be bounced from my parents house, grandparents house, friends houses, other mormons/cult members houses, Child Welfare placements, youth shelters, and psych wards…… from age 12-17…..

 

So that was my teenage years in a nutshell….I need to take a breath now!!!

 

As some of you know, I’ve been fucking ANGRY lately with all of the memories of abuse that won’t stop tormenting me. Right now I am angry not only at my actual abusers, but at those who could have and should have rescued or protected me, and didnt. I want to understand why??? Many of those people knew for a fact what was going on. Many of those people WITNESSED abuse happening, and actively worked to keep it covered up so it would never bring shame upon mormons or the mormon church. Many others I TOLD, even begged for help, and in so many ways they silenced me and betrayed me. Kept me and any other children silent and trapped and still being abused. I wish I could go right now and confront all of these people… I have a list of them in my journal… I wish I could talk to them face to face, tell them the impact they have had on me, and all of those other children. But, if they could do what they did then, they probably wouldn’t care anyway…

 

This is PTSD from Ritual Abuse… September 18, 2012

Filed under: Abuse,Ex-Mormon,My Story,PTSD,Ritual Abuse — cherishfreedom @ 5:02 pm
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Living minute by minute, second by second, this is what living with PTSD is like. Surviving each memory, each flashback, each terror-filled night, and breathing a sigh of relief when the mind gets a second of relief. When images of gore and torture, rape and beatings, screaming and suffocating leave your mind for a few minutes at a time you offer a silent prayer of thanks for the peace you get just for that moment…that tiny, short moment….

I am so disconnected from my body, so terrified of my body, and so in hate with my body that it means next to nothing to me. “Getting in touch with my body” means getting in touch with rape, blood, torture, evil, pain, bad bad bad bad bad…. My head is not connected to my body for a reason, it can’t be connected. My body has always been my enemy. If my body was connected I would be dead, plain and simple… This whole healing thing, I keep hearing about the body. What the fuck, its too soon!!! My body is my enemy, and people don’t seem to understand this… The cult, the ritual abuse, the sexual abuse and incest…it all made my body my enemy and I haven’t been able to live in it for a very long time.

I am so full of rage lately and I dont know what to do with it… Anger, rage, these are things I have never experienced (or been allowed to feel/express). I would never have described myself as an angry person but I’m fucking angry now… So many injustices that have never and may never be dealt with or even acknowledged. I want justice and there’s no such thing as justice for my abusers. I want to hurt them, I want them to suffer like they made me suffer. I want them to suffer like I still suffer every day…

These are the ones I want to suffer most, and first. The ones who abused me most, and who were in the biggest positions of power: (oh and by the way, they were/are all in the ritual abuse group/cult)

My mother and father

My Grandparents

A Psychiatrist

A Chiropractor

A Counsellor

A Family Doctor

A Babysitter and his father

4 Bishops of the Mormon Church

2 Stake Presidents in the Mormon Church

You know who you are if you ever read this…. I am going to expose you , you evil fucking pedophiles… I fucking hate you, and I am going to make sure you pay for this before you die….

YEAH I AM FUCKING FULL OF RAGE!!!!

 

“Animal I Have Become” by Three Days Grace September 17, 2012

Filed under: Abuse,Healing — cherishfreedom @ 5:33 pm
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ANIMAL I HAVE BECOME

I can’t escape this hell
So many times I’ve tried
But I’m still caged inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself
 
So what if you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal!
This animal, this animal
 
I can’t escape myself
So many times I’ve lied
But there’s still rage inside
Somebody get me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself
 
So what if you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become

Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal
 
Somebody help me through this nightmare
I can’t control myself
Somebody wake me from this nightmare
I can’t escape this hell
 
This animal, this animal
This animal, this animal
This animal, this animal
This animal
 
So what if you can see the darkest side of me
No one will ever change this animal I have become
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal I have become
 
Help me believe it’s not the real me
Somebody help me tame this animal!
This animal I have become

 

The Drug-Yourself Up Cure

Filed under: Abuse,Healing,My Story,Psychiatry,PTSD,Ritual Abuse — cherishfreedom @ 2:43 pm
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Things are so intense when you’re trying to heal from ritual abuse and incest. I don’t even know a lot of times if what I am doing can be qualified as healing, it is just surviving. Living minute by minute, getting through one flashback, one memory, one nightmare. Surviving one moment, and then another. There are so many times throughout the day I ask myself why the hell I am doing this… I want to give up. But what does giving up mean? Dying, committing suicide is the ultimate giving up, and I do think about that still, although I am almost positive now that I won’t actually kill myself. I could give up the “positive” things I am doing in my life, and give in to the depression, just stay in bed or something. But I don’t think that would work, my anxiety is too intense for that. So…giving up is not an option at this point. But I’m so fucking exhausted and I want a break!!!

 

I had an appointment with my psychiatrist last week. Some history on psychiatrists and I: I’ve had involvement with them for the last 15 years of my life, with almost none of that involvement being good or helpful to me. Psychiatrists, when I was a child, were part of the reason I was never believed when I told about the abuse, was never rescued, and was labelled mentally ill instead of abused. As a result I generally HATE psychiatry and psychiatrists, and it takes A LOT for me to trust one. However, the psychiatrist I see now is one of the very rare exceptions who listens to me, understands trauma and PTSD, and has actually helped me a great deal over the past 9 months. When I saw him last week I told him honestly that I was “gonna lose my shit” (lol) and my anxiety/flashbacks/nightmares were just getting worse and worse. He did a sort of intervention and increased one of my meds. The increase is quite a lot, and I feel conflicted about it… I am not taking as much as I am allowed to take, but it makes me tired and drugged up. Takes the anxiety away, but its frustrating as fuck to feel all zombified just because you’re trying not to have panic attacks all day long… It’s been a rough week… I go from wicked panic attacks, to total frustration and tiredness. It’s hard to figure out which is worse sometimes. At least I’m used to being a panicky mess, hahaha…

 

Is this actually healing??? I feel like what I really need is to talk a lot of shit through, but the problem is I don’t have the right people with enough time to talk about all the things I need to get off my chest… Drugging myself up is keeping me out of the psych ward, but this feeling sucks too… I need a therapist I can see more than once a week for an hour. I need an art therapist. I need a group for women sexual abuse survivors (or preferably ritual abuse survivors). I need a girlfriend (I’m gay) or at least some family that I can call any time of the day or night when things get really bad… I need people I can rely on in the good times and the bad times. I need people I can talk about anything with… I don’t think that healing is drugging myself up. I know its keeping me out of the psych ward right now, but I want to DEAL WITH THIS SHIT, not numb myself out and try not to talk about it…. I want someone to listen to me… I need to tell my story, my whole story….