whiteknightswendigo

[whiteknightswendigo]

Mental Health Monday Join us every Monday at 10AM PDT over at https://www.twitch.tv/whiteknightswendigo to join the conversation. Guest host @unphiltrd Credits to @boswellox for the edits

[whiteknightswendigo]

Mental Health Monday Mental Health is so important. Building a community of like-minded people is just as important. Come join the conversation at https://www.twitch.tv/whiteknightswendigo every Monday @ 10AM PDT

[whiteknightswendigo]

Mental Health Advocacy

Building a community of empathetic, compassionate people who support each other when times are tough and celebrate together when times are good is so important for our mental health. We as humans need a sense of community and in that, we find our identities. So why not surround yourself with people who genuinely want to see the best for you? 

Join the conversation every Monday at 10 am PDT at https://www.twitch.tv/whiteknightswendigo 

We look forward to seeing you there!

Credit to @boswellox for the edits

[whiteknightswendigo]

Hurt people, hurt people. Let's stop this cycle of pain.

[whiteknightswendigo]

Losing Myself to Find You

The love I feel shatters my heart and glues it back together with gold. The pain breaks my soul into a million shards of glass and melts it all into diamonds.

The empathy I hold for others happiness and sorrow does both of these things in the exact same intensity; almost as if it were my own.

I am losing it. The most beautiful thing about who I am.  Becoming a human devoid of all feeling. Lacking all empathy.

I don't want to lose the piece of me that feels so deeply.

If this piece goes to sleep, how can I be sure to wake it back up? If this piece wanders the black abyss of nothingness, how do I find it again?

I am abandoning the most prized corners of my soul... to help you heal.

[whiteknightswendigo]

I AM WORTH IT

I was talking with a friend recently about how they feel like they hang onto the little slivers of happiness for as long as they can because each day is such a damn challenge. I empathized because I feel that deep in my soul.   I remember just how exhausted and angry I was that I had to wake up and fight another day. Over and over and over again. How I constantly felt that even on the good days, there was an impending doom. A skinless monster with jagged teeth lurking in the shadows. A massive swell coming for me, just waiting to pull me down to My Ocean Floor yet again.   And while I can’t say that those days no longer happen, they are far and few in between. I have grown to recognize most of my triggers and have collected a large chest of tools to use when I can feel the swell growing.   I’ve upped my game on self-awareness and upped the friggen anti on self-care.  

And with all of that came self-love.  

FUCKING FINALLY!

I can see this beautiful soul inside myself asking for all the things that she deserves. And have realized that I am the only one who can give her those things. I deserve the world. I deserve peace within myself. I deserve to be loved in the ways that I need. I deserve the effort it takes to achieve all the things my heart desires. I deserve the effort it takes to feed my soul.  

I am getting there. Day by day. One little step at a time. Piece by piece, I am putting myself back together after being a shattered shell of a human for so very long.  

I AM PROUD OF MYSELF

I AM EMPOWERED

I AM WORTH IT.

[whiteknightswendigo]

BREATHE

Today I am feeling so... ungrounded?  

Like a giant ball of restlessness and anxiety. So much so that I physically feel nauseous. No amount of remembering to “Just breathe” has been enough to satiate this raging beast within my belly.  

I know the steps I need to take moving forward are absolutely necessary to live a healthy life. One filled with positive growth and healing. So why is this hurting so bad? Why is this causing me so much stress and pain?   It seems to me that I go through phases. Phases of excitement for the future. Feelings of relief and peace with my decision.  

And then this phase.  

The one that has me thinking; “Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to just stick it out. What about all of the things I'm going to lose if I move forward with this?”  

And all of the worries that come with changing my life in this way.  

“What if the kids and I end up homeless? What if I can’t afford to put food on the table? What if I have to move home and stick myself and my children back into that type of toxicity... JUST TO ESCAPE THIS TYPE?!”

Half of me is sitting here, wishing I had the guts to do what needed to be done much sooner. And the other half has me knowing that I wouldn’t have learned the lessons I needed to had I.  

I guess I just need to trust myself.   I’ve got this.  

I can do this.

I WILL be ok.  

I Just Need to Breathe.

[whiteknightswendigo]

Boredom

These last two years have been unbelievably chaotic. Between the trauma therapy, the healing, learning to set and upkeep healthy boundaries and to stand up for myself. Reminding myself that I am a good fucking human who cares and loves. Learning to love who I am and accept the things I cannot change.  

Man, I am exhausted.  

I have lost all motivation to do anything at all. I have all of these hopes and dreams locked away inside my heart, with no determination or give a shit to do anything at all about them. And I am trying to find solace in it. Trying to remind myself that now that I have broken the trauma drive within myself, I deserve to just rest.  

Relax.  

Learn what really matters too me.  

I read a quote a while ago that went something like;

“When we are no longer living for our trauma, peace can look a whole lot like boredom.”

Peace too me can look a whole lot like a messy kitchen or piles of laundry on the floor. It can look like pizza for dinner or ignoring the world for a day and just watching a silly tv show curled up in bed.  

Or it can look like boredom.  

This is the part that confuses me though; is it really supposed to be this hard to sit down and write what's on my mind? Especially when writing has brought me so much joy and clarity in the past? Why am I struggling to spend quality time with my kids? Why is it that the video games I used to enjoy, aren't bringing me the joy anymore?   Is it the monotony of my life? Is it because it's just the Same. Damn. Thing. Day in and day out? Have I lost all motivation because when I do work up the determination to do something for myself, I am interrupted every 5 minutes by someone needing something from me?  

I'm not sure what any of it means. I just know that this is where I need to do some introspection. I am learning, that I will never stop learning.  

Especially about myself.  

[whiteknightswendigo]

Sexual Abuse

I applied for a police file today. This file contains a report I made when I was 9 years old and it consists of the grooming and sexual abuse I was subjected to by a trusted adult.  

This man was one of my friends step dads.  

I remember my friend, myself and a couple of the other girls that lived on our street would roller blade up and down the block in front of our homes. Afterwards, we would go to this mans house and cool off from the summer heat with a glass of juice.

This house was beautiful! A two story home, sided in pastel yellow. Massive stained glass windows in the main living area invited the light to brightly shine in as we sat in the air conditioned living room drinking our juice.

He would often invite us girls over, even if his step son wasn’t home. He was friendly and charismatic. We were all instantly drawn to him. He fooled every single one of us.  

These were the times he groomed me. He would turn on the TV and sit down on the far end of the couch. I would sit at the other end on the floor. He would cover his lap in a small couch blanket, ensuring I could clearly see underneath, his erect penis pulled through one leg of his green cloth shorts. And he would slowly stroke himself, smiling gently as if to reassure me this was normal. I remember this happening over and over again. Being the small child I was, I had no idea this was wrong because I trusted him. Mother trusted him. And if it was so wrong, why did I enjoy it?  

Eventually things began to escalate. This man would invite us over to play hide and seek in the dark. We went down into his basement, where he had turned off all the lights. Then he'd pick which one of us to count with him while the other two found a hiding place. This time he picked me.  

He directed me to a furnace room. The room held a wood work bench on the wall directly to the left upon entering and the furnace and water heater to the right. He followed me in and shut the door behind us.  

We chatted for a minute and I listened with my ear pressed up against the door in an attempt to hear the shuffling of feet from the other side.  

And then he told me to get down on the floor on my belly to peak under the door crack. He said maybe I would be able to see where the other girls were hiding if I followed their feet.  

And he got down on top of me. His erection pulled again through his shorts and rubbing on my butt. I was wearing a short jean skirt and I could feel his penis underneath it as he rocked back and forth on me.  

I don’t remember what happened next. I don’t remember him getting off of me. I don’t remember leaving that room, or finding my friends or even leaving his house.

I eventually told Mother what had happened. But she didn’t believe me. She told me I was a liar just looking for attention amidst my parents ugly divorce. Only after my friends mom told Mother this man did this to her girls, did she realize the truth and took me to file a police report. I don’t even remember how long after. But by the time anyone could do anything at all about it, we were informed he had fled the country to New Orleans, and there was absolutely nothing we could do.  

I wrote a few journal entries about him. But I didn’t go into detail about any of the events that took place. And I tried to move on as best I knew how. My body holding the memory but my mind thankfully forgetting.  

Until I was raped again at the age of 17.

I’m 17 years old. My best friend of 3 years at the time was dating a guy. He was a terrible human being and had her wrapped around his finger. I knew something was wrong right from the start but she loved him and I loved her. And hey, his dad was never home so it was a place to party.  

This night, it was just the three of us. Drinking beer and whiskey. Singing to songs and dancing. My best friend ended up passing out and so it was just me and her boyfriend.  

I announced I needed some fresh air and so was going for a walk. He insisted he come with me and proceeded to tell me that he had never been with a woman aside from my best friend and was wondering what it was like. I should have turned around that instant and went back inside, but stupid me thought I could talk him out of cheating on her. Let him know that its never ok and if he’s that curious, he needs to leave her. I didn’t clue in he was hinting towards wanting to have sex with me.  

We walked until we reached the neighbourhood park where I sat on the steps of the playground. He walked up to me and spread my legs. As he picked me up off the playground and carried me over to lay on top of me in the grass, I begged him to stop. I repeated over and over again “This is wrong. You can’t do this. This is wrong. Please stop.” He pulled down my shorts and penetrated me.  

I continued to repeat through a shaky voice on the verge of tears “{name} please stop. This is wrong. You can’t do this. Stop.”

He eventually did. I think the guilt set in. Lifting himself off of me he muttered “Ok fine’

I am not the only one of her friends he did this to. There were more than just a couple.  

This event set off a whole chain of trauma responses. I just froze. I kept quiet and didn’t say a word to my friend about what had happened. I was so worried she would never believe me.  

A few months later I finally told her. And I lost her friendship for months. Until she realized I was telling the truth. He had done this to her other friends. And eventually to her.  

It brought back all those terrible memories of my first sexual abuse I had hidden in the dark crevices of my mind.  

Every so often after that, I would google my first abusers name in New Orleans. Just hoping to find an obituary, a court case. ANYTHING AT ALL to let me know he wasn’t getting away with what he did to us. Nothing ever came of it.  

Until 2019 when I looked up his step son on Facebook. We didn’t stay close but had seen each other very infrequently over the years. He had a rough life. Struggling with the law and with drug addiction. His Facebook page was his obituary. He passed away a few years prior to my looking for him again. And then it dawned on me that this wretched man probably sexual abused that poor boy too.

Allen Young was convicted of second-degree rape and sexual battery in 2018. He admitted to repeatedly sexually abusing a girl over a four year period between August 2008 and October 2012.

This man is only receiving 23 years for the rape charge and 10 for the sexual battery. Only 23 years for all of the destruction he has caused for this young girl. And no years at all for the 4 lives (that I know of) he forever altered here. And one he had a hand in taking.  

I applied to receive an email copy of the police report I filed in 2000. I want to know exactly what this demon did to me. And with this information and police file in hand, I plan to reach out to the New Orleans prosecutors that convicted Allen Young. And inform them of the damage he has done here.  

Maybe… just maybe… they can charge him with this too. Maybe he will rot in prison with no chance of release until he is 6 feet underground.

Maybe he will never have the chance at freedom.  

He doesn’t deserve it.

[whiteknightswendigo]

Mothers Birthday

Text Message: Dec 8 2020

“The reason you cannot get a hold of me is because I’ve blocked all of your contact information.  

I’m going to be 30 this year, and only when you found out you’re sick did you even attempt to have a meaningful relationship with me. 28 years of neglect. 28 years of no supportive, loving, nurturing mother. 28 years of never hearing I love you or receiving a hug. 12 years of an absent grandmother for my children. It’s pretty sad that when I say “My mom” to my kids, they have no idea who you are. They know you because you are {my Brothers} mom and nothing more.  

When you began to reach out and attempt a relationship, I was hesitant but open to accepting what the relationship might be. Even if it would never become the one I wanted. But then you pushed all of the blame and responsibility of my trauma onto me. You told me everything was all my fault and I chose all of the terrible things that happened too me. You told me I chose to be born to an emotionally neglectful, dishonest mother. To a physically abusive, narcissistic alcoholic/drug head of a father. To be raped and to lose a baby. Just to name a few.  

You completely washed your hands of any and all parts you played in my trauma. Taking zero responsibility for the things you did and didn’t do.  

You completely devalued my feelings.  

You told me I am the best I will ever be.  

And so, for my own mental health and my healing journey I have cut off all forms of contact with you for as long as I need. 

Do not go through {my Brother} or anyone else to contact me.”

October last year was the last time I allowed her to berate me and make me feel worthless. This text was sent to her after a phone call and string of nasty messages she decided to send. It took her 2 months to realize she couldn’t get a hold of me.  

The amount of time with which we’ve last talked isn’t unusual. We would go almost an entire year without so much as a text. No phone calls to ask how I am or get up to date on the latest goings on in my life. No asking how her grandkids are.  

Complete radio silence.  

So many of my birthdays she had forgotten, yet I always remembered hers.  

The first time she forgot my birthday I was 14. And then every single year after that until I turned 28.  

The days leading up to her birthday this year I spent my time thinking about how I would feel when this day comes. I dreaded waking up because I was sure it would be tough. Birthdays are important too me. It’s one of the ways I show the people I love that I am grateful they were born onto this planet. That I am grateful for them coming into my life.  

The muscle memory to reach out and wish her happy birthday is still there, but today isn’t painful like I thought it would be.  

Today I am drifting.  

It’s just another day.

[whiteknightswendigo]

Self Love

I am grieving. Again.  

I feel like this shell of a human. Watching the world move by me without any acknowledgment that I am standing here.  

There’s just so much pain left behind, blackening my soul and hardening my heart. So much hurt engraved into the very core of my being.  

I’m constantly looking for some sort of grand sign that everything will be ok.  

A piece of me fantasizes about being able to see into my future so I can decide whether this life I’m surviving is worth it.  

I am just trying to feel it. Trying to love myself while I move through it.  

[whiteknightswendigo]

Confused Ramblings

So my husband asked me to write down want I want out of sex.  

What makes me feel good and bad. What I hope to get from it. What I like and don’t like.  

But the thing is, in my mind, sex has never been about what I need. It’s always been about fulfilling a duty within a relationship. It’s so deeply enmeshed into my self esteem and self worth that I have forgotten to take a look at what I really want.  

Maybe I can’t even do that until I unravel and release myself from what I have been conditioned to feel.  

So where do I start…  

Logically I know I have been taught to believe my worth is tied to the amount of physical attention my significant other pays me.  

If he isn’t having sex with me then he must not love me.  

He’s seeing someone else isn’t he…

He watches porn instead of initiating sex with me because I am not good enough.  

Right?

I know these are things I need to let go of. But how do I do that? Just knowing isn’t enough. How do I get myself to believe that I am enough even if sex was off the table? How do I learn, deep down in my soul, that I am more then that and I have much more to offer?

I have tried convincing myself that I don’t care. I’ve tried coming to terms with the fact that sex just isn’t going to happen often in our relationship. I’ve tried telling him how the lack of intimacy makes me feel. All to no avail. I still feel unloved if we don’t touch.  

So how do I heal this piece of me? Or do I even need to? Maybe this is just who I am. Maybe I need physical affection and that is how I feel loved. And maybe that’s ok. I do however, feel like I need to learn how to not blame myself for the lack of intimacy. It isn’t my fault. It isn’t because I am not pretty enough, or not good enough for him. It just isn’t about me.  

Easier said then done.  

[whiteknightswendigo]

Drunk on a Monday

One turned into two. Two turned into five.

It’s 6pm on a Monday evening.  

Husbands working late again leaving me alone to deal with our 4 kids. I feel like he does this on purpose so he doesn’t have to be here. Doesn’t bother to let me know when he thinks he’ll be home. Doesn’t bother to let me know he’ll be late until he’s ALREADY late.  

I’m feeling hopeless and lost and alone. What is even the point anymore?  

[whiteknightswendigo]

Day #14

Day 10,950

It’s actually only Day 14 but it feels like an eternity.  

I feel like I’m in an oxygen-less freefall. Slowly suffocating while I plummet into a cold, dark abyss.  

I wish it wasn’t so easy to trigger me and send me reeling into a rockback.  

It is so frustrating and confusing. I feel like I am able to slowly claw my way up the side of the pit, reaching just high enough to take a sharp breath of air, only for my hands to fail me and slip off the edge. Sending me careening towards the bottom once more.  

The worst part about it is deciphering if this is a trigger from my past and something I need to address internally and fix on my own, or if I am justified in my hurt and anger with the other person and should work on it with them.  

This feels like a cage I will never be able to free myself from. Grasping at the bars, wildly shaking myself back and forth whilst screaming in an attempt to break free.

But the cage is in my head, and the bars of my own fear are what confine me.  

[whiteknightswendigo]

Failure

Day #13

Today I am frustrated. I know what I want to do. But I have been unable to make myself do it.  The sheer levels of de-motivation I constantly feel. As if I’m frozen in a block of ice unable to free myself and run towards my goals. My feet encapsulated by rock hard cement. It’s exhausting to even think about where I want to be, let alone the steps I need to take to get there.  

Is it rooted in fear? Probably…

Fear of what though?

Fear of what others may think of me…

Fear of not being good enough…

Fear of FAILURE.

[whiteknightswendigo]

Day #12

Rockbacks

I can feel myself slipping again; another disparaging rock back lurking in the shadows. Patiently waiting to wrap its icy arms around me, waiting to drag me into the black ally where my screams and pleas cannot be heard.  

I cannot wait until these rock backs feel a little less daunting. Until they become just one bad day out of many good ones.  

[whiteknightswendigo]

Chosen Family

Chosen Family

My oldest daughter is currently visiting her family back home and my grandparents want to take her for a day or two. I’m not sure how I feel about that. I love my grandparents so very much, but I just don’t know that I can trust them to respect the boundaries I’ve set in place regarding Mother.  

I’m worried that even though they’ve agreed not to, they will call Mother behind my back and invite her over while my daughter is there.  

I’ve explained countless times why I’ve needed to distance my family from Mother, but the response is always, “But she’s their grandma. Don’t do that to her.”  

I don’t care if you’re my blood. If you are an unhealthy, toxic person for myself and my kids, then you are not my family.  

I am slowly building my own “chosen family”; a community of imperfect but loving and supportive individuals.

I’m confident I would not have been able to even begin to have deep, meaningful and HEALTHY relationships with these wonderful people if I hadn’t broken myself away from the toxic cycles and pain my blood has caused.  

I’m finding power and confidence in this journey to healing through self love and knowing that I have every right to set and uphold boundaries.  

It’s ok if people get upset because: “Those who mind don’t matter and those who matter don’t mind.” - Bernard Baruch