Hesitancy

Hesitancy

So, at this moment, there are exactly seven minutes before midnight, at which I turn 31. I need to get something off my mind and continue with my blog the way I intended it. Once this is done, everything else I want to talk about should come pretty easy.....

So the reason for the abrupt writer's block right after posting 4th grade is this. I was molested for many years and I do believe it started during that grade if not right before. It was not by a relative, but by my housekeeper's son. He was a few years older than me, and we went to the same elementary/junior high school, not to mention he stayed with us. I can't remember when or even how it started, but it continued for awhile.

As I said in an earlier post I think my parents must have figured out something, otherwise why the hell would they have sent me to School Counselor, because I forged their signatures on notes my teachers sent home, I think not.

As I grew older I never felt comfortable in my own skin, I never wanted to date, I always wanted to keep my friends real close, I was never comfortable with intimacy. For all these years I have been able to mask all my fears from the outside, but unable to mask them from myself.

I will never forget when I had a conversation with my mom and her friend, Susan Lowenstein, who was an extraordinary woman and psychologist. (remember I am using alias') The conversation went as follows, paint me a picture. That was it, not deep thoughts, no how are you feeling today, just paint me a picture. Not sure when this was (as you may figure out later, I will be saying that alot, my timeline is so fucked up from blocking out certain memories, that I forget when events happen and sometimes events all together), but here was/is my picture. A dark alley; the night had painted the bricks all around me a deep navy almost black color; there stood a little girl with her back to wall with a light that shone on her from the sky; she was wearing ragged clothes and had dirty hair and had a single tear that was running down her cheek. That was my picture, and that little girl was me, and there are times, that I still see her. I am not sure what Ms. Lowenstein, and my mom though at the moment, but I now finally know what it meant for myself.

Welcome to my blog!

It is now 50 minutes passed the hour that my birthday started. I am going to stop for now because as you all know, I have bootcamp in just a few hours. I said what I needed to say, in brief expect, more in depth as time passes.
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