Graphic in Nature, Discretion Advised!

Ok, to clear the air before I begin, for those family members who read this, please, let this subject be, and don't bring it up to me...A simple hug will do :oD

There is a pattern to the way I'm thinking, happens every once and a while. Yes, it usually tends to happen close to, or during ToM. TMI? I warned you...
It's been known to happen that during these times I suffer and become a Mental Hostage. Yes, my memories take me hostage. There are so many experiences I'd love to erase permanently from my memory bank. I don't wish to un-experience them, just forget they ever happened. I know I've learned from them, but I just don't care for them to assault me quite as often as they do. They invade when I'm in this quirky, not-quite-me mood. I find myself constantly shaking my head, like that will rid me of the images. "I don't want to think about this" seems to be my mantra during these times. Simply because I have no other way to get them to stop, I have to blog about them...getting them out usually does the trick, usually lets me sleep peacefully and forget about them until next time.
Tonight I'm being assaulted, and they won't leave me alone, flashes and pictures of times where I had my most embaressing moments, my most degrading moments, and all of those mortifying thoughts that I want to leave behind, because I'm a better person now.
Are you ready to read them? I'm not even sure I'm ready to type them...

I was young, probably about 11. I was at my grandmother's house for the summer, as usual. She was partying, and had rented us kids a bunch of movies to watch. A few of us had fallen asleep in the living room watching movies till super late. I was asleep on the floor in front of the tv, with my older male cousin in next to me. My aunt was sleeping on the couch, and I was out of her sight because there was a coffee table between us. I woke up to my older male cousin, running his hand up my leg and resting between my legs. Not knowing what to do, I pretend to wake up and run to the room where my other aunt is sleeping, and crawl in bed with her, crying as quietly as I could, wishing I could just die. I still have trouble treating that male cousin as a human being whenever I'm forced to spend time with him. I never told anyone, until my Mr.

When I was 13 I had my first boyfriend, even though I had a fair amount of people in my grade who had a crush on me, I chose a most unlikely candidate to actually "date". Over the summer between 8th & 9th grade we dated, and there were many pleasant memories to be had. One night we had sex in my basement, it was my second time, and it was his first. He was the first person I had ever thought myself in love with. Puppy love, of course, and after we did the deed, he stopped talking to me. Dropped off the face of the planet, and he moved before the start of the next school year. I never found out why things happened that way, but I was very hurt, and vowed never to date anyone in my school again, and I never did.

The end of that summer I went to a party at an aquaintance's house and got completely, black-out, loaded. I got beaten up, by a group of people who were there, two sisters, and their brother. I woke up the next morning with a hangover, a concussion, and a backseat that needed to be cleaned of vomit. That year I dropped out of school because the boys in the cool group sexually harassed me at every opportunity, and even a few of the teachers sneered at me when I was in their presence.

Flash forward to the year I was married to my first husband. Things weren't working out for us after we got married, and I asked him to send me home for my 19th birthday so I could think our relationship over and take a break. I began going to nightclubs alone (mainly because I didn't know anyone who would go with me) and dance the night away by myself. I met this guy named Jason, whom I eventually slept with. All I can remember about him is the way he ran his hands through my hair, and him asking me me if I was finished yet so he could climax while we were having sex. I've never felt so degraded in my life. I remember thinking, this is the end of marriage, and it was.

My marriage is breaking up, and I hook up with a college guy after a night at the bar dancing, and after we finish our business, the van I had been driving that belonged to my first husband, has been towed. I had to phone him in the wee hours of the morning to come and pick me up and pay the impound fee to get it out, with my neck covered in hickies from the other guy, clearly stating what I'd been up to. I felt so deeply ashamed I couldn't meet his family members' eyes again after that.

After I got a job (under the table) and got a room from one of my co-workers, I began sleeping with a roomate who lived with us. I attatched myself to him, and almost felt like I loved him. He was my rebound victim. I got loaded one night, plenty of drugs, plenty of Tequila & Whiskey. I was partying with he and his friend (who happened to be the oldest son of the person who I was renting from), and when I woke up the next morning I was naked in my bed. When I asked them what happened they said I wanted it. A week later I tried to kill myself with a bottle of pills and some liquor, only to have said guys dump the rest of the pills before I could finish them, and keep me awake with them the whole night and the next day by watching movies and going for drives in the fancy racing mustang buddy had. They kept telling me nothing that had happened was worth dying for. Not long after that incident, I had blocked those actions out of my mind and started heading to clubs again, after getting dressed one night, I asked him how I looked, and he replied that I was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen, and then he turned around and walked out to go be with the mother of his daughter whom he was trying to reconcile with, as she'd forbidden him to ever look at me.

Forward again, I've met my Mr, and we're slowly working on dating. He's brought me over to his friend's house to play pool, and I was still trying to function in a normal way, where I didn't need to use my body to impress people. I do a dirty little dance up on my Mr, while he turned twenty shades of red, in front of his friend, that floored them both. No clothes came off, but I'm mortified every time I think of this memory, as I can't believe I was ever that uncouth.

It's a rough part in my marriage when I was clubbing with my "best friend". I had met this guy at the bar, where we exchanged emails after a full night of conversation. Nothing dirty was present in that conversation, not even flirting, but after I sent him the first email, he began sending me suggestive messages, and even though I asked him to stop, he kept sending them. All I wanted was human companionship, and he bottomed out. Not long after my Mr read those emails and accused me of cheating on him. I got pregnant with H in the aftermath, and we couldn't decide whether we wanted to stay together or not. A tormenting time for me.

After saying good-bye to my "best friend" because of another incident, I phone her on impulse one night, and not long after, we head out dancing again, in celebration of her sister's 19th birthday. She gets loaded, and I stay sober. When I drop her off at home, she begs me not to move to Ohio with Mr. When I get home at 4am, I confront my Mr, and all I can remember is the look on his face when he says "I knew this was going to come back and bite me in the ass". I felt that I got what I deserved, considering how my last marriage ended, and proceed to loose 20 lbs in a month because I'm so stressed I can't eat.

It's the day we leave BC. It was raining out, and the week before Thanksgiving (in Canada). We're saying good-bye, and my step-father is crying as he's hugging the boys. I remember thinking, Oh my god, my daddy is heartbroken because I'm taking his grandchildren away. I couldn'tve loved him more if I tried, and I've never been so disappointed in myself for not being more of a firm person and telling everyone I would never leave Canada to live elsewhere with my kids. For the next four months I do nothing but mope about how disappointed in myself I am, and begin to find ways to try and move on, when I feel heartbroken myself...for failing me. Even in the aftermath I would rather follow, than make a stand and deal with the consequences, terrified that I may have made the wrong decision and scar my kids for life.

Here and now...I'm tormented by these thoughts, and though my life (and relationship) is volumes better, and everything has worked it's way out for the best, these thoughts have somehow worked their way back into my life to assault me and keep me from sleeping peacefully. I'm having nightmares where these incidents are nearly robbing me of my sanity. When I wake up I'm feeling agitated, and depressed. I don't want to think about them...I want them to go away. God, I hope when the hormones have run their course, I will be able to sleep peacefully again. I'm praying that I can remember what kind of a person I've become, and that it will pull me through.