self portrait of myself and ‘self portrait’

Originally uploaded by jayfherron.

I’ve tried to write the following about five times and each time I submitted it the words got lost…it is frustrating because my computer skills are lacking and I think the problem might be something I do unaware…computers?
What I was trying to express last week -the night the problem began and all my posting attempts went void…..was-
I began going to group therapy the day after I see Charlotte-the therapist I’ve been seeing almost two years now. I don’t like the group…don’t care much about the other guys or the doctor but I think alot of it is because of tension about being shut into a closed office that has nothing for light but lamps-too reminding of barracks D and the closet upstairs.
I have found that it is interesting only because this one other guy says things that sound like things I could be saying-his emotions are just tuned in the same way mine are-he says things that are so ironic and unusual for me to hear because they are statements based on feelings that he has that are feelings I understand and always thought they were confined in me alone. That-I admit,makes this group idea a bit more appealing.
I was trying to say the other night that I am weak and afraid and sometimes I fall. Oftener than I like…I fall. Most usually it is the Wednesday night after the two days in a row of therapy -therapy days are very strange for me through out most of the rest of the day…I feel like I am trying to wade through mud that is chin deep and everything seems in slow motion. I am very tired from each day-both days begin by walking through both hospitals ( they are connected by a tunnel) and working to get mysrelf accustomed to being there and avoiding the deja vu feelings that make my skin crawl at times when I am inside a large place-the breathing sounds of the people and the mechanical sounds of the buildings reach in me and bring on fear-the fear expressed in my painting.
No one ever wanted to know what happened to me in the Navy-the Navy certainly had no interest so far as the naval intelligence officers reaction indicated. The shame and humiliation of what I did in the weeks afterward were shameful enough and made me look like I was enjoying myself….who can understand this?
My mother once asked-wanting to know how to admit my brother had something to do with the demise in my life…and wanting not to know also. When I started to tell her the story could only go so far…she would’nt allow me to go the length to say how those days in barracks D ruined me. I’d get so close and my mother would change the subject….yet on the other end of it-she would tell me the filthiest jokes that truckers might tell truckers but mothers don’t tell thier sons. I repeatedly tell her not to when she readys to share one of her ribald tales. She persists anyway .
To carry all of these effects from the pains endured during those days at barracks D all of these years-alone…and working around them to try to find a life regardless has been work. Therapy is both exciting because my therapist-Charlotte-is not binders and paper….she is real and it is uncanny how she recalls anything I’ve said in the past two years and has such accuracy in my details-never has that happened,but going through it in my head…we may not always talk about the rapes but they are always in my head,is work too. There are things in my memory from those days in barracks D that I don’t want anyone to know-even her , and she knows bunches and bunches of things that makes her the sole listener of my life…there are things that sicken me in my stomach even as I’m thinking about them as I write. I am so ashamed of the things I ended up doing willingly because of fear of my captor-nazel voice hello mister guy….you have to read all of these entrys’ to understand.
I wish they had killed me back then. I died any way but my carcass kept living and moveing on through the muck of it and eventually parts of me came back to fill in some of the places in my body that were void. But never have I lost the sound of the nazel voice guy calling me mister and never does the scent of urine and toilet cakes leave my nose-recalled at any time I enter a restroom somewhere. Never do I go to the toilet and wipe myself-needing to spend time being sure all is clean….never do I pass a day with out that memory-ever!

It has beaten me up over the years that the reminants of this has been so lasting. I tried to drink it away day after day and that never worked-worsened things really-so did the hard drugs….the worse thing. I wanted to die and yet could’nt find the strength to kill myself-the one time I did and was seconds away from it someone discovered me…almost an impossable thing because I live so far out in the woods. I had a rope tied around my neck and it was slung over a branch and tied to the bumper of the car and I had the car in ‘drive’ and my foot was ready to stomp the gas…and someone drives up into my yard-and I was caught. I’ve since over come that urge but still think it would have been better if theyy had taken the rest of my life back there at barracks D instead of leaving the thinking feeling part to remember forever and forever have it s effect on me.

5 Responses to “confused…”

  1. melissachickie Says:

    Nothing is more horrible than feeling like at some point during the rape or rapes that we had some choice in it. You didn’t. You didn’t have the choice at all. Maya Angelou wrote, “You did then, what you knew how to do,
    and when you knew better, you did better.” I believe that statement is true for both of us. We were learning to survive through what was done. I always wondered why Oscar didn’t kill me either, but then I know now he was too much of a coward to do that as those men were. I tried killing myself also, but awaken to hearing myself breathing. Now that was a pitiful moment for me. When I was first dealing with the remembering part of all of it, all the flashbacks were quite vivid. I had a hard time dealing with knowing Oscar wasn’t present and that those feelings were not overcoming my being. I learned through establishing my own boundaries and voicing out loud, “Stop!” that I could take healthy control over flashbacks I don’t want to relive or think about. It works shouting out loud, “Stop.” Try it, if you feel that the memories and flashbacks are too much to handle. It may make you feel kind of crazy, but from my standpoint I rather feel a tad crazy than torment and victimize myself.

  2. Roxy the Killer Says:

    That was an incredibly powerful entry.
    I wish I could say more about it, but I’ve never been great with heartfelt words. Please just know that you’re doing an amazing job explaining a situation most people understand and judge. By sharing your experience, you are not only helping countless “secret readers” to realize that they aren’t alone, but alo that it’s all right to admit to pain— and that they can find the strength to live past it. From your blogs, I’m not sure if you view living on as a strength (in fact, you write that what happened to you destroyed your life.) But to me, the fact that you’re brave enough to write about your experiences and that you’re alive to do so, is both a strength and an inspiration. (hope that didn’t sound cheesy, I meant every word.)
    Keep blogging.

  3. jayherron Says:

    Roxy the Killer…I appreciate your words-and they seemed heartfelt to me,and nothing sounded cheesy to me…you and others that come to find what I write,those who comment and say the things like you have said-well,it helps me,and I know it comes from a higher place and is meant to strengthen me.
    Thank you Roxy the Killer.

  4. GodIsWithMe Says:

    Dear Jay,
    I stumbled upon your website after reading a story about Debbie Smith who was raped in 1989. Your story touched my heart. Please know that God loves you and I completely believe all of the stories in the Bible. I don’t know why you had to go through what you did but God knows and it is great that you are telling your story to help others. You will be in my prayers.
    Love in Christ,
    God Is With Me

    • jayherron Says:

      Glad I inspired you to comment,well…we must all look to Job to understand! He had quite a conversation with those other fellows to explain Gods Wisdom,faithfulness and love! peace

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