ugh. Yesterday I had a looooooooooooooong talk with SabR and Kazi. First we discussed the recent 'drama': ( cut for irrelevance ) and then we moved on to sacred topics, talking of spiritual things, and after much reassurance, much encouragement, I opened up about something I'd never told anyone (except Hannah) before. It broke something loose in me, and I've been dealing with a FLOOD of emotion since, mostly depression and pain. I don't understand it, haven't found the root of it, but OH my heart aches. If I start thinking about it I weep. What I don't get is that when I talked to Hannah about it I didn't have this reaction, maybe because my heart wasn't ready to really open the door yet? Whatever it is, it's made me WAY FUCKING DEPRESSED all morning, and I finally sent Kazi and SabR an email about it because they had seen I was hurt afterwards and were worried that it was their fault. I sobbed through the whole email and had to keep blinking hard in order to see the screen, but I think it helped. Then SabR IMed me and was so understanding, and I feel much stronger now. Still very fragile though. It's going to take more processing before I can share it here, but I definitely plan to.

And my girls TOTALLY lifted my spirits by adding pro-belenen to their interests lists!!! LOL!!! I LOVE YOU GUYS!!!!!! and I totally have it because I'm very pro-me, muahahaha!

Ben and I had a major fight over something minor (which I now realize was triggering), and I way overreacted. And he got angry, and I got MORE upset because I can't STAND for men I'm close to to get angry, it frightens me and makes me act completely helpless, and then I hate them for making me feel like that and I hate myself for giving in. So we really didn't come to any conclusion, but he went to bed because he was exhausted... and I spent several hours iconing mindlessly.

ugh. I feel smushed.

I bet part of this is because I haven't been to church in weeks, so I've had nothing to refresh my spirit. We actually went to church last weekend but never got out of the car because we were fighting. I don't even remember what I was so furious about... and today I found myself immediately repressing the memory of what he did, so the first time he asked me I couldn't even remember what I was mad about, even though it just happened. My mind has a will of her own, and she has a habit of hiding stuff. She really needs to stop doing that to me.

I've been deeply struggling for the past day or so, fighting to keep my head above water... I read something about an abuse that didn't trigger me (which is good, it shows progress) but did make me terribly terribly sad. And I keep trying to let it go... but I can't quite seem to do it. And Ben's been having allergy/asthma problems... so I feel like I shouldn't add any burden to him, and if I told him I know he'd most likely feel worse than I do. I'm lonely.

I'm really really lonely. And my spirit has fought so hard for the past two weeks... I'm exhausted.

I just want someone to hold me... someone stronger than me... and I want the freedom to weep, rather than dropping a few tears and stopping up the bottle again.

I haven't forgotten you, some of your comments and posts have touched me deeply and I will respond, but I just don't have the strength right now -- and I know that me not having gotten more than 5.5 hours of sleep per day for the last week hasn't helped.

Last sunday, I had a 'relapse' of sorts, emotionally and spiritually. This is what was going on inside me. It wore me out to the point where I called in the next day and didn't go to work... slept all day instead.

Then Tuesday I went to group counseling, and I happened to be last to speak. I poured out my heart, basically saying all I had said in that post. There was silence for a few moments, and then my counselor began to talk to me. She got very heated, telling me that I should give up self-pity and make the choice to trust God... she said it differently but that was the gist of it. Some of the other women got uncomfortable with her directness (she was rather irate) and defended me, and she toned herself down a bit but didn't change what she was saying.

Meanwhile, my inner cobra was flaring her hood. I was furious. I held up my hand, palm toward her, and said, "I reject your judgement. That does not fall on me." I know the inner workings of me better than anyone except God, and I know that self-pity has not been a battle I've had to fight. I can't stand the role of the victim, and I certainly wouldn't wallow in it.

As she 'accused' and I 'defended,' I found myself growing stronger and stronger. I had had those doubts about myself, and as she caused me to face them head on, I realized how untrue they were. As I explained myself to her, I began to believe in myself more.

I know I have never stopped believing in God. I have never taken the easy way out! It's far, far easier simply to put aside these torturous questions and accept what someone else tells you is true -- but I refuse to do that. That's not always 'faith' -- sometimes it's just laziness, or a lack of passion -- or even fear of the answer. I believe that God is truth, and I believe that he is big enough to handle all my questions and pain and fear. I don't need to drop my questions; I need to seek the answer and be willing to accept it when I get it. No, I don't trust that God loves me, not right now, as much as I'd like to -- but some part of me must, because I still believe with my whole self that he IS Love, that he loves every human, and that he works in people's lives in response to my prayers. I've seen it, over and over again.

I don't know what it will take to get me to where I can believe that God loves me personally, deeply, fully, passionately, unreservedly, unconditionally...

... but I know I will get there.

At the end of the meeting, we all prayed together, including a specific prayer that God would give me the answer and that I'd be able to accept it, and then as people started getting up, my counselor apologized for being harsh, and I forgave her. And I asked for everyone's attention, and said that I could understand how they might feel upset with my counselor -- I would have been very upset had it been someone else she was scolding -- but that I believe that she was doing what God wanted her to. The result in my heart was positive -- not the result she was pushing for at all, but exactly the right result. I said that I thought her methods might have been somewhat questionable, but she was following God. After I finished my little speech, my counselor and I hugged, and I totally let go of any negative emotions I might have had toward her. I know she did that because she feels a little like a mother to me, and because she very passionately wants the best for me. There wasn't an unclean motive in her heart. (and I know she'd NEVER have gone off on anyone else like that, she was so completely honest; I kinda take it as a compliment) Another of the counselors came up to me and hugged me and thanked me for saying that, which filled me with the certainty that I had done the right thing. Hopefully it soothed any worried hearts.

I tell you what, working 9-hour days after 5 months (almost half a year!) of near-total physical inactivity is kicking my ass! But in a good way. I have discovered that I developed one good habit over the summer -- I drink a lot of water during the day now, and my sugar intake has been minimal, so when I drink a soda it tastes cloying after the first few sips. When I was working before, I bought a coke and a candy bar every break, and I was oh-so-tempted to do that again, but I resisted, and had water and a granola bar instead.

I have so much more energy now! probably partly due to the sensible sugar intake, but I think mainly due to the fact that I used to be so incredibly depressed that it was a huge struggle just to live, much less work and smile and be friendly. I am continually amazed at how easy life is now -- it's like living crippled and then being suddenly healed -- things that were a huge struggle before are just so simple now.

But that has its downside. I don't want to continue healing, I no longer have the drive. The only reason I'm giving it even this half-hearted effort is because I want truth that will comfort and give hope to other victims. I'm so angry at everyone with their sanctimonious bullshit! I have been healed in the basic way, I suppose, but the deeper places are still just as furiously wounded. If I think about it for any length of time I get so pissed. I keep asking, "WHY? how could God not step in?" and all I get is "You have to find your own answer to that question." I don't want that to be true -- I don't want to have to tell victims that. So I hope that it's really just that they're being private about it -- I know I won't have that problem!

And even deeper -- my relationship with God is so broken I can't even look at it. I know part of me never stopped loving and trusting him, but I have no idea where that part of me is hiding. Right now, my faith can't even be called faith. I absolutely believe that he exists and that the Bible is true -- I believe it mentally at least, but spiritually and emotionally, I just can't reconcile a God of Love to this image in my head. And I have no idea where to go from here. I kinda want to believe that he's trustworthy... but I kinda don't.

A kinda cool thing that happened at the support group -- I was sitting bored while everyone else was communing with God, and wondering why it was so hard for me to hear him speak. Suddenly I got this image of him coming up to me (spiritually) and starting to say hi, and my spirit jumping up with her hands on her hips and shouting, affronted, "Who dares talk to me?!?" It made me snicker. The best thing about it was that when he gave me that image, it was with a feeling of amused acceptance. Other people might see me as rude, obnoxious, arrogant -- but he sees me as, and I quote, "Fierce."

That did give me a bit of hope... but still no answers. I am so conflicted.

I just finished my 'homework' for small group counseling tomorrow, and I feel so drained. It's so hard to face... especially with me not knowing what really happened! At least, not knowing most of it.

Trust is the hardest thing to do when you've had someone violently destroy your most sacred self. I shake my head and think, no wonder I've always found trust a nearly impossible task. Even squeezing out just a drop is an exhausting process. I've learned to do it with most women fairly easily, but with males and authority figures (even worse, the two combined) I have made scarcely any progress at all. I trust Ben more than I've ever trusted a man -- but I hold back so much, stuff that I don't even realize.

I'm so full of rage. It saps my energy... when I finally let it out, what else is left?

I honestly cannot identify with my birth name at all anymore. I still think it's pretty, but it's so very un-me. Look at this thing:

( what my birth name means )

It's the most uncomfortable feeling, not knowing your own name. And poor Ben can only call me endearments.

I will be SO. very. happy. when I finally find it. It feels like a key to my soul. How can I get my inner self to respond if I can't even call her name?

counseling was horrible... I want to write but I don't have the words...

and it ended badly -- we had to end without closing any of the issues that were brought up, and I was angry and hurt -- I didn't hug her back when she hugged me bye and when she waved I just looked at her. I think I may have hurt her, I don't know. And yeah, I was angry at her, not just in general.

I was at least two different people -- one very angry and bold and strong and the other just a limp blob of pain. This was the first time I've ever actually felt the difference in my selves -- it wasn't just moodiness, it was a whole different person. And then there was the self that just watched, that self that I hate.

I need to be allowed to be weak, to mourn, to believe that I was wronged and I have a right to feel pain. Of course I don't want to stay mourning forever, but I cannot just skip that step... as it seems everyone wants me to do.

I have been in such a place of confidence and clarity (compared to my life before, anyway) for weeks, and to be plunged into confusion and frustration again is overwhelming. Since counseling, I've been exhausted and my body is reacting to my spirit -- I've felt nauseated and aching.

Oh yeah, and right after counseling I went and spent time with my dad, who was in town for the weekend. It's almost funny. It wasn't a bad time, exactly, just fraught with the usual feelings of frustration, disappointment, tension, and exhaustion.

I thought I would share my daily prayer/mantra for taking authority. It probably won't affect your life if you don't put your faith in Jesus, but for the Christians on my list, you should definitely try saying it out loud every day for a week -- it had such a powerful effect on my life. It wiped out so much of my confusion and frustration. And even if you don't put your faith in God, maybe you could try it -- I'm just curious to see if it would have any effect.

Basically, when we give our lives to Jesus, he gives us authority over ourselves ("For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and of love and of a sound mind" -- 2 Timothy 1:7; "I have given you authority to trample on snakes and scorpions and to overcome all the power of the enemy; nothing will harm you" --Luke 10:19). But learning to use that authority is never instant, and many people don't understand that and so they never seek to grow. It's even harder for people like me who have been through something traumatic. Our instinct is to separate from the pain and split ourselves into pieces, some of which we are aware of and some of which we are not -- some of which love God and some of which do not! That's how we survive, but it was never meant to be a permanent state. Anyway, for a long time my most broken pieces were the ones who controlled me, but as I have begun taking authority, my sheltered good pieces have risen up and begun healing, begun taking over. My confusion is so much less -- I no longer feel like I have static in my head whenever I try to quiet my thoughts. My fear is less; I don't have as much of a problem with flashbacks during sex; I'm not so afraid of people's disapproval... I'm coming into who I was always meant to be. And I think the primary reason for that was learning to take authority.

( so here's what I say )

Patricia actually gave me a simpler version, but I didn't want any part of my being left out, and I tend to believe that there are more than three parts to a person (I think the Ancient Egyptians were probably closer to correct in their belief of nine parts to a being, but I don't know what to call the other four possible parts), so I added bits. After I started taking authority over my body, I saw a huge difference in my dancing. Not that it's that great now, but compared to before it is amazing. I went from hopeless to actually learning.

Kristy was in town for a few days... Tuesday night we went skinnydipping, which was fun but would have been heavenly if it hadn't been for the fact that I was Unhappy with her. I don't really want to go into it, but basically I wasn't happy because she didn't treat me like family and she wouldn't be real (and I didn't even try to coax her, so no fault to me). I love her but I just can't connect with someone who has their heart locked in an iron box, and if I can't connect, what is the point? I had to fight with myself to even go skinnydipping with her, and that is one of my top four favorite things to do.

But yes, the skinnydipping was fun anyway. Rebecca kept her swimsuit on, but that's to be expected (silly modest girl). It was about 10:00, I think, so it was dark but not very, and we were swimming in the neighborhood pool (it's a lot more fun to skinnydip in a private pool, because then you don't have to worry about getting arrested). But oh, the feeling of freedom! There's nothing like it. If I had my own pool, I'd be so fit, because I'd do swim for at least an hour every night. *sigh*

Maybe I'll be able to convince Rebecca to go with me a couple more times this summer.

--------

I went to the first class in the restoration series (a group counseling thing for sexual abuse survivors), and I had a reaction that I totally didn't expect. I always look forward to my counseling sessions, but when I got to the class, I didn't want to be there at ALL. I felt raw and angry and confused. I wanted to go smash stuff to bits while screaming my head off. After the speaker finished, I just sat there (because our small groups won't be meeting until next week) and stewed. I felt rather nauseated and overwhelmed... so many emotions that I totally wasn't prepared for. They gave us a survey so that they could sort us into groups that have common ground, and when I was finished with the survey I just started writing, just pouring my feeling onto paper. Wonder what they'll think of that. Afterwards I went up to Patricia, who hugged me and asked me what I thought... and I talked to her a bit and suddenly got overwhelmed and started crying, hurting and not knowing why. So she prayed with me and I asked God why, and he showed me that I was hurting with loneliness -- that with my usual counseling it feels like we are working together for my healing, but in this setting it feels like I'm fighting a huge battle alone.

Patricia prayed with me... and then she felt led to give me a mother's blessing, and asked if she could, I stalled and she just hugged me and started blessing me. Unfortunately I wasn't paying attention, because my brain was still overwhelmed and I wasn't sure how I felt about that anyway... bah. I was very confused. But it soothed my spirit at least, I felt peace afterwards.

I'm feeling a bit better today because I ( wrote to Patricia ) and she ( wrote me back )

And no, I didn't go to bellydancing because I just didn't feel up to it... and I kinda wanted to but I had a hard time even getting out of bed, and I didn't want to push my body for 1.5 hours... lazy. And now of course I'm having second thoughts about it... when it's too LATE. What do you motivate yourself with when you can't see a goal? I'm disillusioned.

I was doing so well for a while, and now I'm sleeping for 10-14 hours a day and feeling drowsy for my waking time. I want to scream and flail about and kill and die. What is WRONG with me? Hm. I just remembered that I have been forgetting to take authority... and I think it also has something to do with Ben, but I'm not sure what.

*huge sigh*

My name no longer feels like it fits me. And that's sad, because I like the name Kristen, I like the way it looks and what it means... but it doesn't fit. Ben can't call me that during sex anymore, it snaps me right out of the mood. He calls me the Edheledian word for "Dragon-rider" instead. heh.

And Belenen... is close, but it doesn't quite fit either... I'm usually so good at finding names for things, but for myself I am completely lost. There is no name that I know of that calls to my true self. 'Bel' is closest, but that is only good as a nickname, not a truename, because it is too small and simple. I love to be called 'Bel' by others, but I can't call myself that... this probably makes sense to no one but me.

I'm lost, my self is lost, and I can't find her until I know her name... that is how I feel. I need a new name. I remember when I first read Revelations, I read "to she who overcomes, I will give... a white stone with a new name written on it," and I have treasured that in my heart and longed for it ever since. And I want a new name here, because I truly am a new person, and I want to live that.

How can I translate? How can I even understand my own heart?

Patricia (my counselor) got a new name, sort of. She was never called Patricia growing up, but always bits and pieces, Patty, Tricia, Pat, etc., and when she was healed God told her that she was now a whole person, and that her name was Patricia. Many times God gave new names to people when they began their callings... Abram became Abraham, Sarai became Sarah (from 'quarrelsome' to 'princess'!), Jacob became Israel, Hoshea became Joshua, Saul became Paul -- in the Bible a name represents the complete essence of a person and so giving a new name implies the beginning of a new life.

God gave me a nickname a few years ago, an english word that is not a name. It is the one thing that I consider too sacred to share openly. Perhaps that will change, perhaps not. But I want a name that means that adjective -- I want a name that makes me happy every time someone calls me by it, a name that reminds me of who I truly am. 'Bel' kinda does, but not quite...

P.S. I had a gorgeously fantastic evening out with my jedibubbles tonight... we went to the local coffeehouse and talked for a solid 5 hours, sitting on the green couch. Heh. I love the memories I'm making in that place. *happy*

Counseling this week was powerful, in a way that made me very uncomfortable. One of those "truths that you don't want to see" type things. So of course, I've been putting off writing it down... Bah.

I realized that I have idolized my intellect, used it as my identity and my protection. ( ... )

I don't know what to do. Patricia and I prayed, and I gave my intellect to God, but I'm still not sure what that means and it is making me very nervous. I don't want to have anything be more important to me than God, and I certainly don't want to continue to be trapped by fear of stupidity, but I'm just not sure how to change. Patricia was confident that God would show/tell me.

Saturday was exhausting... I'm still recovering from it. I got up early, went to counseling, then to bellydance, then came home and had sex, then went to church, and then went out with Del and Joe... And amazingly, I didn't lose energy until about 1 am.

So, this time at counseling, we realized that I had never broken soul ties with my perpetrators. I should explain that. I believe that every time you have sexual activity with someone, there is at least a small amount of transference, and a bond of some sort is formed. And that happens regardless of how meaningless the sex is... So basically, parts of my soul were wandering around with those people who molested/raped/whatevered me. So we prayed over it, and she took authority and broke the soul ties, and then prayed that God would gather those parts of me and bring them back to make me whole. I immediately felt lighter. It amazes me that we didn't do that a long time ago... it's such a basic step. I'm very glad that I'm no longer connected with those people, I feel like those connections had held me back many times... It was a short session, only 45 minutes or so (instead of the usual 90-120 minutes), but she felt God saying that was the point of the session, so we wrapped it up.

Before we left, I showed her my jewelry site on the computer in the office, and she oohed and ahhed, but she was at least as impressed with my html skills as my jewelry -- I wasn't sure whether to be flattered or miffed. ;-) (I chose to be flattered.)

She usually gives me a ride to bellydancing, but since it was a short session, she decided to go get lunch, and she asked if she could get me something -- she bought me lunch and a starbucks frapp, yummmmy. I always feel guilty though, accepting gifts like that. I wish I could just believe that the person offering is doing it sincerely, and accept it with ease.

On our way there, I asked Patricia how she got into dancing, and she told me that she had loved dancing ever since she was a little kid and she saw her first dancer -- a stripper at a burlesque show. The way she told that story convinced me that she would not have a problem with nude modeling and would quite likely be supportive. I didn't have the opportunity to talk to her about it yet, but I have definitely decided to.

( at bellydancing )

( sex )

( out with Del and Joe )

Yay! God so loves me -- I just got an email saying that Patricia's appointment Saturday cancelled, would I like to come in? Hell yeah!

I've been debating on whether or not to tell Patricia about my modeling and my journal, so I'm asking you guys for your thoughts. See, she's not at all Miss Prissy Fundamentalist -- she's been a bellydancer for 20 years, 15 professional; she's not one bit uncomfortable talking about sex; she uses 'vulgar' words without blushing or apologizing; and she just has a very open mind, from what I can tell. Still, she is around 50, and she might have hangups...

I feel that God is pleased with and proud of the openness of my modeling and journalling... but my belief in his joy in me is fragile, and if someone I very much respected as godly were to tell me that they think it's wrong/bad/whatever, it would give me doubt in God's support of me. (that is a temporary thing caused by my brokenness -- when I am healed, my faith won't be so weak)

Pros:
I would feel more myself, because I'd be open and honest with her. Right now I feel a little dishonest.
If she approves, I will feel so much more confident of God's approval.
If I feel more confident of His approval, I will feel more free to be honest and open with everyone, even Ben's parents and fundamentalist types.

Cons:
Tolerance is not enough. If she were to say it's okay, just borderline, then I'd doubt that God thinks it's beautiful, and that would be tragic to me.
If she disapproves, I'll lose a lot of confidence, for a while at least.
If she tried to talk me out of it, then I wouldn't trust her with anything that I consider possibly 'bad,' for a while at least, and that would make it difficult for me to learn from her.

[Poll #489005]

So Saturday I had counseling for the first time in three weeks that felt like two months. Blech.

I came in, told her all about what had happened the previous Saturday with meeting the lady at church and forgiving everybody, and then Rebecca and I forgiving each other... and she told me that God had told her that if I came in talking about forgiveness, to lead me step-by-step through a thorough forgiveness prayer, so we did that. It was a little emotional at times, but it didn't really faze me, and I didn't feel any different. She said she could see a difference in me already, and later Ben told me the same thing... mainly she said I have to walk it out, everyday refuse to pick up anger, resentment, all that shit.

I still don't feel different -- but for the past two days I've been able to go to sleep when Ben does and get up at 6:00am in the morning without a struggle. If you know me at all you know that is huge -- my whole life, even when I am happy I have a very hard time getting up before 10:00am. I don't know if this will stick, but it is a good change to not feel like sleeping from 7am to 7pm and then get up and want to take naps! I feel more alive.

I'm not happy that my next session is so far away -- the 21st. But I don't feel so much like I am wasting my life, because I'm not sleeping or drowsy all the time... and Patricia gave me some titles to look up to help me grow in the meantime. And starting June 14th there's going to be a restoration series held at the church that I will hopefully be able to go to... it's $125 but my 'scholarship' might cover it.

Oh yeah, I don't think I've said this before -- I'm going to counseling for free because one of the ladies at my church considers it her ministry to pay for other people's counseling; God points out people to her and she offers to pay for them. God was really taking care of Ben and I, because she gave us counseling for our wedding present, and we had to have it. I don't care to think about what we'd have done without it. We had couples counseling for about six months, and since then it's been just me. Ben had amazing parents and one of those families that you think went extinct 100 years ago -- they have a few small problems, but nothing like any other family I've seen. So he didn't need that much help. Me, on the other hand... I am so incredibly grateful to God for leading that lady to us (we don't even know her personally, she knew Ben's mom) and so grateful to that lady for following Him.

Wow... sorry I've been so anti-social, I just have so much to process, sooooo much has happened.

I've been wanting a mentor, someone who has been through what I've been through, is healed, and can help me like a friend (Patricia is great, but I can't call her up anytime and talk to her).
( well I found her, I think... and I forgave those who have wounded me )

and then we went over to Ben's 'rents house so he could play computer with his brothers (his dad is a comp. programmer, so they have three computers (or is it four?) that are just for gaming and homework (mostly gaming)) and so I could watch 'Calendar Girls' with Miss K (Ben's mom) and Rebecca and elya (who spells her name with a lowercase e). It was a cute movie... quite good at showing the different reactions people have to nude photography.

Afterward, Rebecca showed me an emerald ring, told me that Trevor gave it to her, and then said, "When he proposed." I was flabbergasted for a full ten minutes. What the fuckin fuckity fuck? I never even knew they were officially courting, though I did suspect as much from all the backrubbing and hair-petting.

And that made me really sad. Not so much because she might get engaged (she hasn't given him an answer yet) but because I missed it all. I missed all the 'ooo, boyfriend' stuff. (When Rebecca and I were friends, she had no interest in romance whatsoever, she was almost asexual.) Then I thought that I might not even be a bridesmaid, that elya would probably be her maid of honor, and I teared up a little. Our friendship was like a marriage -- our breakup was a divorce. Then Miss K came in and started talking to me, and I was already emotional from the forgiving everybody thing and the Rebecca thing, so I just talked and talked about how I've been feeling lately, how I can't get to sleep when I want to and once I'm asleep I want to sleep forever, all that kind of thing.

Then I remembered that I hadn't seen the dress Rebecca made for RenFest, and I asked her to show it to me... we went downstairs and she showed it to me, and we started talking ( about our used-to-be friendship )

And that isn't all that happened that night, an earthshaking change happened between Ben and I that resulted in wild sex, but good grief this entry is long enough already. I'll post about it later.

P.S. I'm pouting at you who didn't look at my earrings and fill out my poll. (but I'm very happy with all who did or will as soon as they get a chance!)

If you're wondering why I haven't commented on your fascinating posts, it's because I've been lazy and antisocial lately... also nervous about LJ in general. I will catch up though.

I hate the idea that someone can just waltz into my flat whenever the hell they want. That's basically what it says in the lease "during reasonable hours" which for me are unreasonable because I am in the habit of going to sleep at about 7am (when Ben goes to work) and waking up between 2pm and 4pm. And I sleep naked. And when I'm not asleep I'm usually naked (or in only bra & thong) unless I'm planning to go out. I hate clothes (unless it's cold). It makes me feel unsafe and spied-upon for the property manager to have a copy of the key to my flat. Ah, well, it's the downside to having a pleasant, cheap space to live in.

I worry that I'm just wasting time. My counselor is very busy for the next two months, which means I only have two appointments for the next month and a half. Maybe that's all I can handle, I don't know. I just want to dive in and get it all over with! I need to contact her and ask her what I can do so that the in-between time isn't wasted.

And I am desperately lonely.

But on a happy note! I have been so in love with Ben lately, so uninhibited in comparison to before! This taking-authority thing is amazing. Ben is amazing. Sex is amazing. That part of my life has been slowly and steadily improving, in such a sweet and steamy way. I hate condoms though, we need to get me on the patch again. (I take that back-- condoms can be fun, but not for sex 'cause I'm allergic to latex) Which reminds me -- my period was almost two weeks late, and when it finally arrived I was so delighted I shouted "Hallelujah!" Pregnancy would mean postponing counseling, and I do not want that.

so, I've been lousy at comments lately, sorry. I'll try to go back and respond some tomorrow...

Friday was my last day at work, but I don't feel like I've actually quit yet... Yvonne asked why I was quitting, and I explained, and she told me that she was also abused as a child... (this is everywhere, a widespread devestating disease that no one ever talks about. WHY?) She was very kind, she stayed and talked to me for a while until I got a steady flow of customers again. She also has been totally healed, she was able to sit through a thanksgiving dinner with her abuser (a relative) without fear or anxiety or anger... I have even more hope now that I know two people have been totally healed.

I had counseling Saturday, it was very very stressful. I don't feel like it was progress, but at the same time I do -- I was more open than before, I almost felt trusting enough to tell her about my modeling and my journal -- I feel sure she would approve, but that 5% doubt is enough to make me want to keep it from her. She's no 'religious' person, just someone who loves and follows God, but everybody has their hangups and her opinion matters a lot to me, to use drastic understatement, so I'm afraid to tell her. I feel like God thinks that both my modeling and my journal are fascinating and wonderful, but again, I have slight doubt, and I'm afraid to ask him, afraid to ask anyone who represents his voice in my life.

I think my heart is slowly pulling away from Paula and Spencer. ( ... )

And of course, we talked about forgiving my dad. She told me that a wound that deep is too much for us to forgive on our own, that I have to let God do it through me, with me... it's too much for me to understand, right now. She said it is simple, just that simple, a one-time decision, but hard to do. I want to forgive him, just so I can be free from all the pain my unforgiveness is causing me, but at the same time I don't want to forgive him, because in many ways he thinks he's just fine and I don't want to support that belief in any way... I'm very bitter when it comes to him, I've faced that and it's true. I don't like being bitter and untrusting when it comes to authority figures. But she forgave her perpetrator, and I'm 99.99% sure that my dad never touched me in any impure way (he was always very careful and cautious about NOT doing so), so don't I have it easy in comparison? I'm not even forgiving my abusers yet, whoever they are. Why is it SO HARD to forgive him? I think partly because I don't feel like my pain has been validated, I feel like I can't forgive something if I'm not even sure if it's wrong or not, and of course my parents would tell me that I'm overreacting and that I'm imagining things. But I want to get it over with. Yet I want someone to say, "that's terrible, I understand why you are so hurt, that was wrong." There are so many many things... mostly just how he treated me like less than a human. And told me repeatedly that my feelings and thoughts didn't matter, "I don't care how you feel" -- that exact phrase, many times. And now he wonders why I don't want to talk to him.

"Where do I take this pain of mine
I run, but it stays right by my side
So tear me open, pour me out
There's things inside that scream and shout

So tear me open, but beware
The there's things inside without a care
And the dirt still stains me
So wash me, 'till I'm clean...."

When I said that my day (saturday) was life-changing, I meant it, I wasn't being flippant. Okay, long day, lots of spirit changes -- first at counseling, then bellydancing, then church.

At counseling, Patricia and I started by picking apart the dream that I had after the last session, about three different houses, the open, breezy, beautiful one where I was naked and open and utterly content in my hispanic family; the house I lived in with my parents where ALL the memories pretend to be, even if they happened at a different time; and the skeleton of a house with an evil foundation. ( ... ) She explained that not all the parts of me want what I want. Some parts hate the fact that I didn't die (and still want to die), some parts hate God, some parts refuse to enjoy life, etc. And she said that God has given me authority over all parts of me, and I need to take authority and use it. So she gave me a thing to say, not a prayer or a mantra but similar, where I take authority over all parts of me and command the parts that don't know God to be silent and not interfere in my life. It's not a permanent solution, just something to keep me from warring against myself until I am one person. I said it, you know, but I didn't expect much of a result.

We also talked about my wish for parents ( ... )

Then I went to bellydancing, and oh-my-gosh. There was such a huge difference in my body's ability to connect with my spirit/mind. I mean, last time was horrible, I could see and comprehend but could not do. And part of it was this time I gave myself permission to fail, permission to not do it perfectly the first time -- but the huge difference was because of taking authority over myself. There was part of me that interfered with everything I did, and that part was forced to be quiet and stop blocking my dance. This time I danced in the in-between times, totally not caring if I was doing it wrong or if the other girls were looking. My body, my spirit, was so much more free, so much more alive.

And after that I went to church, and PJ gave an awesome sermon -- my favorite part was when he validated my feelings and current goal in life -- transparency. He said, point-blank, that transparency is something we should all strive for. That privacy is not something we should strive to protect. I was so excited, I clapped and cheered (no, I ain't kidding -- in my church nobody turns and looks at you funny if you do stuff like that). I think I was the only one thrilled with that declaration, though. Even the other "high I's" (extroverted hyper personality type) just kinda took it in -- but then I wasn't really paying attention to everyone else, so maybe some others were excited too. I'm so sick of the religious mindset that we're all supposed to hide most of ourselves and only share the 10% that we think others will consider 'worthy.' I'm delighted with PJ for saying otherwise.

I am strong, I am beautiful, I am true.

There's a room in my soul that's filled with pain. I've kept it locked up because pain makes me weak, and I can't bear to be weak. When pain happens to me now I deal with it rather than shoving it into the room, but there are years and many horrible experiences in that room, many that I never even processed enough to realize that they exist.

I've always been the strong one. ( ... ) I've never allowed myself to rely on anyone else, not really. Relying on someone means that if they don't come through, something is amiss -- I rely on people, but keep enough distance that if they don't come through, I say to myself, 'oh well, you knew better than to trust them, let's build an invisible wall.' Because I am so much more open than most people that I can build walls that they can't see -- I feel distance, but they don't. And then I either slowly paint the wall so that they're blocked out, or I tear it down again.

I'm at a crossroads now. I can either continue to yank the door open, snatch out a bit of pain, slam the door shut and work out that one bit... or I can open the door and not shut it and be overwhelmed and drowned and crushed by the pain, until I've felt it all and there is nothing left to fear. I can either spend the rest of my life trying to do it gradually while it slowly kills me, or I can be weak, let my guard down, and be useless for a time. And I know I will be useless. I don't know how long, but I know it will break me down.

I sound matter-of-fact, but this is the most painful ambivalence I've ever experienced. I've gotten past fear of the pain itself -- now all that's holding me back is fear of being useless, broken, and unreliable for a time. Fear of trusting in God and Ben to take care of me. It seems so puny and silly a fear as I write it down. I want so badly to not have to be a responsible adult; I want to be the one that gets taken care of... I'm sick of being responsible for everything, but I'm deathly afraid of letting go.

I had counseling this morning, and it didn't seem like we went that deep. Mainly because she's not sure that I am committed to getting healed (because of all the pain that comes with opening that stuff) and she's not going to push me. Yet when I got home and relaxed, I suddenly felt like my heart was breaking, and I cried and cried and cried because I felt... used. And Ben comforted me, but that was hard for me to accept because he's a man, and I really can't trust men right now. So I had two battles going on -- the struggle between accepting or shoving down the pain, and the struggle between accepting Ben's love or pushing him away. I actually won both battles though, now that I think about it. But good grief, every touch scared me, and the only place that he could touch me without me freaking out was my back. And at the same time I wanted the comfort of sex, only a little bit though. Good grief, the pain felt like I was being... abused. Like it was happening. But there were no thoughts with it, just the feeling. I couldn't get in a safe position either, didn't feel safe on my back or my tummy. But Ben was so careful. And I'm proud of myself for not shoving him away. I know I need to trust him, even though it's hard, and I know he's trustworthy.

I used to be ashamed to cry. I'm still kinda ashamed to admit it here, in front of other people. I feel like it's weak, like I'm going to be judged as a wimp who can't handle life. But that is a LIE taught to me by people who didn't want to deal with the guilt and discomfort of me being unhappy; they wanted me to stifle my feelings so that they could feel like everything was fine. Crying is just as natural as laughter, dammit, and it is necessary for processing pain. I refuse to believe that it's weak; I choose to believe that it is a honest expression and worthy of as much honor as any other display of emotion. (of course, crying for reasons other than strong emotion is different)

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Ashley and Kevin (a maybe-to-be-catholic and a born-catholic) went to my (very non-denominational) church today ( ... )

While at church, I had Spencer and Paula pray for me about this counseling stuff, and they both prayed passionately, and I felt their love. It was healing for me, I rested in it and felt stronger. And I feel sure that Spencer (at least, probably Paula too, but she's very busy and kinda forgetful) will continue to pray for me, and that is encouraging. Oh, and one of those little things that delights me -- I hugged Paula when I saw her today, and she said, "Hey! I missed you last week!" and I knew that she was referring to when I tried to catch her attention but she was preoccupied -- Spencer saw though, and he must have told her.

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PS. WHERE THE HELL DID flyupward GO?
PPS. If you haven't, please fill out my would-you-listen-to-an-entire-mix-CD-of-my-favorite-bands poll and my necklace design poll. It'll only take you a few minutes and a couple of clicks and it would make me very happy.

I went to counseling with Patricia this morning, and we didn't get specific this time either; just addressed the issue as a whole (by the way, she's so wonderful. She actually did her homework and read my entire file, and she wants to read my life story). I got very angry and afraid, was so emotional that I was shivering.

She told me that God showed her that I had built a wall around myself, and I could no longer see out. When I thought I was looking at God, I was looking at my own reflection in the wall, and essentially I had become my own god. So since I didn't have any love for myself, I saw God as having no love for me. After she said that I realized that when I was counseling with John, I was bringing up all these woundings that I had no clue how to handle, so I built a wall around myself -- the same wall that I wore from 4th to 10th grade, which God and I tore down together 5.5 years ago. Now it's back, and stronger than before, but this time it's between me and God instead of me and people. And I have to go through the dismantling again. And I have to trust and believe to even begin. Yet her seeing that gave me hope -- because I had proof of a sort that it wasn't that God didn't love me, but that I was blocking out his love. And I felt the truth in it.

Far more frightening, I realized that I had become convinced that God wanted me to go through what I went through, because deep down I believe that he doesn't care how I feel, but merely how he can use me to get his work done (because duh, that's how my dad treated me -- he told me repeatedly that he didn't care how I felt, he just cared that I did what I was told). And I'm somewhat convinced that after I'm healed he's going to want me to sacrifice myself for the sake of others, because he doesn't consider my body important. Now with my MIND I know he's not like that, but my feelings are independent of my mind on this subject.

Patricia actually cares about me. She's so patient, and I'm so real with her. I don't try to withhold my feelings for fear of offending or irritating her, and she accepts me and continues to treat me with kind honor; she never skips over any statement I make, but treats everything I say as important. She never wavers in her belief that God loves me (and herself), and that helps me to come closer to believing. And she says the word 'shit' with nary a stammer nor blush. Now that is the kind of counselor I want to be when I'm healed!

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She's making me read this book that I don't like though. It's about a woman who was abused and healed -- and forgave her parents (dad abused her for 15 years, mom knew about it) BEFORE THEY REPENTED. What the fuckin fuckity fuck?

I'm totally a Jonah on this right now. (Jonah was a man whom God sent to tell a city to repent or He'd kill them, but Jonah didn't want them to repent and be saved. Jonah wanted them to get what they deserved for being such wicked horrid people, so he ran away. God had to shipwreck him and have a whale swallow him before he agreed to go -- and he spent two days in the whale's belly getting convinced. When Jonah finally went and told them, they all repented immediately, which REALLY pissed him off.) I don't want victimizers to be forgiven. I don't want anyone to show them love ever. I want them to live horrible miserable lives and die and be tormented forever and ever. But God doesn't want that. I think I'm in the whale's belly right now, just got swallowed. It's gonna be a looooooooong two (or more) days.

P.S. sorry about the no comments lately -- I'll get to it tomorrow hopefully.

Tonight was my first counseling session with Patricia, so we didn't dive too deep, though I think we touched on just about every pain in my life. I felt very stirred up inside... BUT.

Patricia told me that she was abused from very young until she was 17, and she used to get panic attacks when she knew that the perpertrator was in the same city... but two years ago she was able to go to a reunion where she sat next to him, so close that their knees touched, and she wasn't at all afraid or angry or upset. All she felt was a little sorry for him.

DO YOU KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS? It means that there IS healing for us. We victims CAN get there. It isn't unreachable (she reached it in four years, and her abuse was much worse than mine) and it is possible for me to become the person I was designed to be, that "real" me that I daydream about. I can have my sexuality redeemed and be the fucking nympho that my true self is, I can get past all fear, I can learn to trust God (which is actually the hardest part), and maybe, just maybe, forgive my parents for not protecting me like they were supposed to (I don't really mean maybe, but that's hard for me to believe). And I know beyond any doubt that if healing is possible, I will get it. Probably not as soon as I'd like, but you better believe I will get there!

Of course, I have to dig up every single memory and work through it for that to happen, so this isn't the most gleeful thing in the world... but I have been given hope again. We can be healed, and when I am, I will actually have hope to offer to others like me. That was the worst thing for me, to think that God could allow one human to completely destroy another, that he could resist stepping in -- but now I know it's not complete destruction, healing is possible. Oh, almost as much as I long to be healed for my own sake, I long to be healed so that I can offer hope to others!

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...and I had always secretly thought to myself, 'So he was crucified and beaten, but that's mere physical pain; how can he know what rape victims feel?' Tonight Patricia told me that Roman soldiers are historically reputed for sodomizing their prisoners... so he did know what it's like. And he did go through what I went through. I feel closer to him, somehow.

This time we pinpointed the event that split me into the cobra and the waif... oddly enough, it wasn't one of those sexual abuse events. What I can remember is being about four years old, and telling my dad "no" for the first time. I can't remember what it was, probably something like he told me to put my toys away, but he got so angry... His face turned red and he pinched his lips together and told me something like "You're not allowed to say no." The effect of this was that from then on, I believed that there was nothing I could count on, and if I didn't perform, I might get kicked out, with nothing to eat and nowhere to sleep... and in every relationship I've ever had, I am afraid that if I do something wrong, then they will cease to care about me.

John says that when I am able to forgive my dad for all the effects he's had on my life, then my cobra and waif will be able to join. But before I can forgive my dad I have to have healing from all those things. My assignment, during the next two weeks, is to write down all the things that I need to forgive my dad for. Dayum.

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Essentially, my childhood ended at age four. From then on, in my way of thinking, I earned every bite I ate and every moment I spent under my parents' roof; I've never felt any obligation to them at all. I felt like I had employers, not parents, and I just don't have "family" feelings like most people. The bonds were broken before I even went to kindergarten. It makes me feel weird to hear people talk about how they love their parents or siblings -- mine were just housemates. I don't understand feeling secure in a family relationship, I don't understand feeling fuzzy about one's siblings, I don't understand wanting to spend time with one's family.
And of course Ben has a family that is unlike any you've ever seen -- absolutely the most functional family in this generation. So he wants to spend time with them, and I just don't get it. One at a time I like them... but all at once they frustrate me, because the family concept frustrates me. Yet sometimes I enjoy them all together... And any flaw in their family screams at me, because in my family I was the one in charge of fixing the problems, and I can't get myself out of that role; and everybody else just doesn't see it or ignores it. That, above all, is why I don't like family situations -- I feel like I need to make the kids behave and make the parents respond correctly, and it's incredibly frustrating. Not just in Ben's family or mine, but in any place where I'm around a parent and child. Apart I enjoy their company -- together I want to yell at them or run away.

To just give a quick summary this time, I learned:

1. If I feel guilty and I don't know why, it's false guilt, and I'm to throw it out. The purpose of my conscience is to let me know that, at my level of maturity, a certain action is to be avoided. Its purpose is NOT to make me feel worthless and deserving of punishment. (that sodomizing memory was apparently inflicted as 'punishment' without any explanation of what I did, leading me to believe that if bad stuff happened to me, it was because I did something wrong. Not true, God said.)

2. If I have an image of God as anything other than loving, it isn't a true image and I can/should throw it out. The Bible says God is Love.

3. God is NEVER mad/angry/etc. at me; when he looks at me he sees perfection, he sees Jesus; and how can he be angry at or disappointed in Jesus? God reminded me of the caterpillar; although it cannot yet fly, by all scientific tests it is nonetheless a butterfly. That's me; though I am not yet all I will be, in every important way I am already my future wonderful self -- and that it what God sees.

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Also, my Cobra self accepted my scapegoat self, and when they blended, the formerly-white Cobra turned violet and emerald, still with the same shimmery sheen. That took a lot of convincing -- my Cobra self had to learn that it was okay to fail, and that I needed to own my failures in order to stop being afraid of failing. My little-girl self had to overcome her intense fear of the scapegoat to allow it to join.

I'm writing this from a week and a half after it happened, and I have been much stronger since the blending of my Cobra and scapegoat selves.

Kristen is a happy gir'!
Theophostic again -- and an awesome thing happened. We went through ( a memory ) which planted in me the lie that what was sacred to me was silly to others, and asked Jesus what he wanted to say to me about that. He (Jesus) said that what people don't understand seems silly to them, but that whatever is sacred to me is sacred to him. He added that I am sacred to him. ( ... )

Here's the awesome part: I asked Jesus to wash me -- and I saw living water curl around my naked spirit-self, starting at my feet and swirling around my legs, around my belly, and finally flowing off my arms, and I felt cleansed. Then Jesus stood in front of me and reached out his right hand, palm toward me, and placed it over my heart. When he pulled his hand back, there was a beautiful, glowing silver brand on my chest. I couldn't see it very clearly -- it shimmered a bit -- but it was ovalish, with a delicate design -- so glimmeringly fascinating. When I die I'll be sure to look at it more closely. ;-) Then he pulled me into his lap and held me.

I'm not sure if I've mentioned it before, but when we pray through these things the sting is gone from the memory -- the first time I open the memory it brings up all those feelings, but after we pray through it I think over the memory and its power to make me feel violated is gone. If it isn't gone after the first prayer, we pray over the part that still bothers me until it's gone. I can flip through these memories and not feel any yuckiness: but until we go through ALL of them I'll still feel that tinge of dread at opening my mind.

More good news: there is a new part of my mind that I think is the beginning of a healed me, 'cause she looks like me. Today she told the beautiful cobra that she needed to stop hiding my memories and let me go through them, and the cobra agreed; so today was much less inner fighting and more actual healing. I've been dreading theophostic 'cause it has been such hard work to pry the memories out, but it will be much easier now. The cobra was very impressed with how Jesus handled the first memory, and very impressed with how much better the four-year-old looked; she actually smiled today.


The second memory was much harder; it was about my friend Karen. ( two-fold ) I've always been very connected with the spirits of those I love, so I felt much of her feelings as my own. We had opened this memory last time but not had enough time to go through it totally, so we went back into it today, and I think there must be a closely related memory still to go through, 'cause I'm not through being bothered by that one.

The most potent thing about that memory was my helplessness. I didn't know what to do (I was only seven) and my whole being cried out, "Do something!" but I was trapped by my youth and belief that older people were always right. So when we asked Jesus to talk to me about it, he stressed again that age/authority is not always right, and that truth is more important than authority. I asked how I could live that way, and he said for me to question everything I do with why, and if it is for authority other than him (or him speaking through others in a way I see as truth), not to do it. He also told me that he may have let me experience terrible things, but he never left me or looked away; he always had his hand over my heart. After he said that I felt a shield over me; when Karen's brother laid on top of me, I couldn't feel it, and I no longer felt helpless; instead I felt protected.

I also was terribly angry -- oh, I would have delightedly slaughtered Karen's brother had I had the chance. Last time John had asked if I would give my anger to Jesus and I said, "No." Today he asked again, and since Jesus had just built my trust I said yes, figuring that he's more powerful and can do more damage to Karen's brother than I could. Some of the anger began to slip, and I protested to God, "but it isn't fair that he should get away with it!" and he said quietly that no one ever gets away with it -- that doing such things destroys the soul more surely than AIDS destroys the body. Thinking on how merely being the victim can eat at a soul, my anger eased greatly; he may try to drown it in porn or drugs or whatever, but he'll experience a lot more hell than I ever will. After Jesus said that, I went through the memory again, and instead of seeing Karen's brother as a fearsome aggressor, I saw him as he really was -- a skulking, miserable creature, full of fear himself. I didn't feel pity, mind you, but I didn't feel hate either.

Lastly, I had to give up carrying Karen's burden. I can pray for her, but holding her wounds in my heart will do no good and cause me pain. That was difficult, but I'll start praying for her. I think she was actually my favorite friend, but as I grew up my mind hid so many memories of her that she has been a haze in my mind. She is a beautiful person -- I wonder if I will see her again.

This theophostic stuff is exhausting. Today we unearthed a demon who I let separate my soul and spirit so that I would not feel my spirit's pain. That's pretty freaky, right there. All this time I'm like, "Why can't I connect with myself? What is it that keeps me continually feeling half-alive?" So we found it. And at first he was arrogant and hissing at John, saying that John didn't have the authority to make him leave (which he didn't, 'cause I had given him that power) and he had his hand clenched around my heart. After I prayed, saying that I renounced the agreement, and commanded him to stop separating my soul and spirit, he let go of my heart like it burned his hand. But he still was arrogant, and John made him confess why he still had power, and he said that he had control of my ankles (and laughed). Apparently I made a contract, in deeds, not words, with this demon to keep me from falling (or failing) because I didn't trust the path that God wanted to lead me on. In return, the demon got to keep me away from living a full life. When I renounced that agreement, he crossed his arms and pouted, but didn't leave until John commanded him to in Jesus' name. Then he started to slink out like a resentful dog, and my spirit got irritated and also commanded him to go (in a shouting internal voice), and then he fled.

This stuff is a stretch even for me... seeing these things inside me without seeing them. It's like theophostic is in a sense teaching me to see the spiritual world (as well as cleansing me). My mind is in two main parts right now. One is a huge gorgeous white cobra, which when standing is six-feet-tall (not counting the coils) -- she inspires near awe in me when I see her. I'm just amazed that part of my mind is so incredibly beautiful. She kind of shimmers iridescent, and she projects a strength and wisdom that makes me love her. (the cobra isn't what I'd have expected, I like cobras but they aren't my favorite) The other part of me is a starved four-year-old girl. She is so delicate, with huge dark circles under her eyes and an intense, frightening vulnerability. The cobra wraps her up and holds her; and since she doesn't have much strength, the little girl sleeps almost all the time. And the cobra protects her, and hides the memories that would hurt the little girl. Unfortunately, you can't stitch up a wound when it has bandages over it, so all that stuff has to come up and be healed, one by one.

I now understand why I have such a hard time believing this stuff, and why so many of the memories don't make sense. John explained that my mind is trying to hide these memories, and the best way to do that is to make me believe that they aren't real. So these memories that are coming up have false images superimposed on them. (In a memory today I realized that I didn't recognize the man in the memory because my mind has superimposed an image of a Ken doll over him to make the memory seem nicer, prettier. It had also superimposed a picture of the wrong house to make me disbelieve the memory -- after some peeling we discovered this) He says that after I go through a memory that I truly believe, it will open up everything -- and it will hurt, but it will all heal much faster then. And how will I be able to believe the memory? I'll feel the pain of it. I both look forward to that and dread it. And I dread that one fact, whatever it is, that leads to the avalanche...

But after I'm healed, then I can believe that rape is not the annihilation of a soul, and that healing is possible, and I will be able to trust God fully for the first time. After all, how can you trust God if you feel like he lets humans utterly destroy other humans? He's all powerful, and killing someone else's soul should be where he draws the line, right? But if rape isn't the killing of a soul, if it is a terrible destruction that nonetheless can be healed on earth, then I can believe that he allows free will even to that point. And I believe that those who survive rape and don't give up on life are the most beautiful, strong, powerful people that live. As bad as whatever I went through may be, when I am healed I will be proud to be one of the glowing ones.

I brought up a memory ( ... ) The hardest thing about it was that it is so hard to believe, since it's such a bizarre thing... but I do believe it. I did recognize the man, couldn't tell who he was but I knew that I knew him. It wasn't a stranger. Nasty nasty nasty.... nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty nasty....... that word stays stuck in the front of my brain during these sessions. And I had been optimistic that we were nearly through (for one thing, I don't like this counselor's style; he's got a much more black&white picture of God than I have) but it doesn't seem like it.

The good part is, I can sing without closing off my throat now... I think it's because my spirit is more free and my faith is stronger, so I'm not so afraid of being myself. (and singing full-voice is about as myself as it gets) And Kaylene was so right -- there is a huge difference. I couldn't hear it before, but now I can tell when I'm doing it -- and I can open my throat and sing out. *happy girl, happy girl*

Theophostic counseling can be explained as the Christian version of hypnotherapy. Basically myself and the counselor pray and ask God to reveal to me the things inside me that have been buried -- like memories.

Last night I went to theophostic, a little nervous because last time (which was the first time) it seemed like we didn't get anywhere. We didn't pray through anything or uncover any lies, though we dug up some repressed memories. I was afraid that that would happen again, but this time it was different. Since we had broken down some walls in my mind last time, this time I was able to handle going back into those memories...

What I know is that I was sexually molested -- I don't know who the man is (I couldn't recognize him in the memory) and I'm not quite sure how old I was, and I don't know how many times, but I know that it happened. And I know that I had believed that I was unimportant (since he didn't care about my feelings or thoughts, obviously) but after unearthing that lie and praying, God told me that my feelings and whole self are very important... and that that man couldn't really dirty me. That his actions planted lies in my mind, but actions done to me cannot defile me -- only my reaction (in believing the lie that I'm worthless and defiled) has that power. Still workin' on believing that one.

Also, apparently when I was little I had told my parents something that had happened to me, and they insisted that I was making it up, and that led to me not being able to trust myself (because they knew more than I did, so what they said must be true, which makes me unable to trust my own mind). We got part of that resolved, but I'm not quite healed from that yet.

That answered so many questions -- why I can't believe fully in anything (that this world really exists, that I am really inside this body, that Ben loves me, etc.) and why I can't trust anyone else completely (including God). If you can't trust your own mind not to make up stuff, you can't trust anything, can you? All the good stuff might have been invented, and for all you know, this person might not even exist. --- all that had been in my subconscious, where it couldn't be addressed. But now, I'm killing the lies with truth, and drowning the darkness in light. It's a very cleansing feeling.

After the session I felt so much stronger, though there is still stuff I have to work through (like the lie all victims believe, that they deserved it)... I'm glad to be getting some answers, and know enough of the problem to start working on the solution.

At counseling today I became free. I have had a captive spirit for some years, since I decided to lock it up when it kept getting hurt. Having learned about captive and slumbering spirits, I am amazed at how many people must be captive or slumbering or both. This world has become so anti-family and devoid of true love that almost everyone flees into sleep or chains. The worst is when your spirit is awake, but captive; you can see how things are supposed to be and you know there is more to life, but you are trapped in your current existence. My spirit slept from time to time just because it hurt so much to be awake. But even when asleep, my apathy bothered me. and now I'm FREE! Liberated! Unchained! Unfettered! Free....

Virginia (my counselor) met with me alone (usually Ben and I counsel with Richard and Virginia) and we prayed together. She led me in prayers when I got lost, but mostly God healed/freed me through this vision...

There was an ocean, and I was in the bottom of the ocean. It was very clear, so even though it was extremely deep, the light shone through brightly. I was wearing a white flowy dress, and I could breathe the water. There was silver pieces all over the ground, and some were growing on plants. I was collecting the silver and playing with it. I knew that I had power all over the ocean; I could control who could come in and who couldn't and whether they could breathe underwater or not. I knew that Ben was on a dock and that God was above the water, but I couldn't let them in, even though I wanted to.

Virginia led me in a prayer to invite God in, but in the vision I went up to the surface and I couldn't go close enough to go through, and I didn't know how to let God in.

The scene switched, and I was in the old GA house. In the kitchen, doing the dishes, crying. I was crying because I was hurting and even though my parents knew about it, they did not care. To them, my feelings didn't matter, it was just my performance that mattered; as long as I did everything right, they didn't care. I could see my father in the next room at the computer with his back turned from me, and I knew my mother was in her bedroom.

Then Virginia led me in a prayer: she prayed that God would come in and show me the truth, and dispel the lie that how I felt was not important.

Then Jesus came out of my dad, and he hurried into the kitchen and held me and hugged me. Then he told me that I was important to him, that he loved me and that I was his heart. He said of course how I felt was important to him, because he feels what I feel – and I was comforted but still sad. Then he told me that he would hold me whenever I needed to be held. He took my hand and drew me into the living room, laid down on the couch, and pulled me on top of him, and curled me up in a little ball and held me. I felt so loved, safe, peaceful.

Then I was back in the ocean, and I went up to the dock where Ben was. When he saw my face, he got all excited and jumped in the water and we hugged. I was happy, and then all of a sudden I wanted to cry, because I wanted God with me, and I told Virginia that I wanted God to be my daddy and be with me all the time.

She led me in a prayer to kind of invite him, and he came into the water, came up to me, hugged me, and then broke chains (previously invisible) off of me and threw them away, telling me that he was going to take care of me and not let me be chained again.

Then there was a pause, and Virginia asked God to show me if he had anything else to say to me.

He told me that he would be my daddy and he would always stay with me and that I should come to him, not Ben, when I need to be held and he would hold me. I asked "how do I know you won't leave?" – so he immediately began to build a house out of light. I started helping him, adding silver. It was all done extremely quickly. The house was like a dome of light, really beautiful. It was one room, with a little table with three chairs, a kitchen area, and a little bed. A very simple house. But very beautiful. I needed to see that to know that he lived in my heart. Then he said that now not only would he be with me, but I could come visit him whenever I wanted. I felt so much more secure, because I felt like he belonged in my heart, and of course he wouldn't leave. I felt like he was my daddy, and I didn't want any other daddy.

I have felt a change, I know I am different -- so I know that was truly God.

Del is AWESOME!!!!!!!!!! See what she did!!! She read my bit of story where Hinimel is watching the gypsy-types of my world dance, and was so inspired that she had to draw!!! I remain terrificationally flattered.

      El was happy with the necklace and earring set I made for her!!! YAY!!!

      At breakthrough yesterday we talked about "How you see God" and how you tend to picture him however you picture your earthly father. So for me, like it or not, my subconscious view has been of a God that wants me to be perfect and will withhold love if I'm not, who doesn't want to share his heart with me, who delights in saying "no," and who isn't interested in things that are important to me but only in what I need to survive. Basically, a "you do it and I'll watch, and if it's not perfect I'm going to mush you with my big thumb" God. (Thumb-mushing quote from Kaylene) So at least I've pinpointed what I need to get past.

      Why is it so hard to get my spirit and soul to agree with my mind? Oh Lord, give me the strength to believe when I don't even have the desire!

      And right now I don't want to do anything that would please Him (AKA read Bible, pray, worship) because if I did and I was suddenly able to hear from him again, I'd think that it was because I "did good," and I don't want that. I want to be able to believe that He loves me and wants to be friends with me even if I'm NOT doing anything particularly pleasing. My heart is for him, and I want proof that that is what he's really concerned with. Thus, from a logical point of view (*Ben's*), I'm deliberately sabatoging myself, in effect refusing to take my medicine because I want a miraculous healing and don't want to believe that the meds had anything to do with it. Even if the meds are asprin and the illness is cancer.

Breakthrough to Joy didn’t move me much this time, but at the end we prayed through the wounding of rejection, and I felt something stir in my soul. I’ve always struggled with that, and I am believing that renouncing it has helped me. Even with my close friends, for a long time I wondered, “Do they really want my company or are they just being nice?” And I’ve had a fear of intruding, where I’m afraid to help even if it looks like someone really needs it, because they might get mad at me for intruding. I know that was taught by my family. I HATE that, it is so not me. The real Kristen would never be afraid, she’d say that the possibility of helping someone was worth the risk.