So Confused...

i am so confused. so so confused. i hate little me. i hate her and blame her for everything. she's the only one i've ever been allowed to be mad at so all my anger goes there and i'm VERY VERY VERY angry. pardon me for not being pretty about this but i've got to figure this through so i'm just going to let it all spill out so i can sort it out.

i hate her. i wish she'd never been born. she was stupid. stupid and weak. if she'd fought him harder. or resisted him more. or been able to go away in her head better. if she'd not succumbed to his tactics. something... something... none of this pain would be if it weren't because she was too whatever to make it go away.

don't even start with me on the "none of this was her fault" bologna either. i've heard the arguments - he was bigger, he was stronger, he would have killed her if she'd done those things... don't you think i know that? that was life and death! she had the gall to be born, why didn't she have the gall to end it? it WAS to the death, but she caved. and now this pain is killing me and it's all her fault. if she'd fought him, he would have killed her - good - end of pain. if she'd dissociated better, i'd be still buried - good - end of pain. if she'd not succumbed to his tactics and believed his lies, i'd have the strength i need to finish this and heal. every time i hurt, it's because she did it wrong. i hate her.

but then you get the arguement - she had no choice. she was so small. she did the best she could with what she knew. that hurts. it's true. it really was. but until now i had her locked in that closet all safe and tucked away - they couldn't hurt me any more. she demands to get out - to be part of me... that's not fair. i'm an adult now - don't i get a choice?! do you think i WANT to live with those labels? to live with that past? PEOPLE!!! NO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

but then...if i keep her locked in that closet... i'm doing the same thing my mother did. denial. her idea of healing is closing the door - locking it like a gazillion times - barracading it - bricking over the barracades. sheetrocking the brick. painting over it. putting furniture in front of it. pretending it never existed and calling that healed. dear God, that's exactly what i've been doing... this is NOT healed... not even close.

so what am i supposed to do? "face it" they say. "face it in all it's awfulness and accept it for what it was and move on"... so stinking easy to say. feels so impossible to do. because if i face it i have to live with it. forever. have to live with those labels i never wanted.
I CANNOT BE WHAT HE CALLED ME!!!!!!!!!!!
I WILL NOT BE WHAT HE CALLED ME!!!!!!!!!!!!
there's so much pain. so much awfulness. so many horrible things that i don't want to be a part of me. things i don't know how to live with that happened. and that little girl... little me... she was made to believe all that. to behave based on all that. to... no no no no no no no no no... it's like asking me to jump off a cliff... nobody seems to understand the consequences. everyone thinks this is just a little hop...that i'm being so stubborn because it's like 3 feet down.
IT'S MORE LIKE THREE MILES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

i don't know how to do this.

if i accept her, i accept him and all that he was. all that he did. all that he said. all that he forced her to be. and i accept this world as a place to be utterly alone - a place where there's really no rescue and bad people can do whatever they want - a place where even mommies look the other way - a place where "free will" means no one is safe... not even the kids i minister too... not even my own children. this is like a mini multiple personality thing. as long as i hate her and keep her at arms length, i continue to hold some semblance of control - it all happened to HER. the minute i allow her to be me - it happened to me, too. who in their right mind volunteers for THAT?! i am so sick of trying to explain to people the enormity of that. i just dont know how to explain it in a way people understand without using the words that say it all... this is MY blog... maybe i will...

or maybe i won't. saying it only makes it real. makes it hurt more. makes it harder to run from. harder to hide from. harder to figure out.

i'm so confused...