Open Journal #14

full collection links 1- 10 . 11-20 . 21-30

I am minded to apply a Tigger warning, but to be honest in my whole life i have never met another living soul whose parents did this to them. So i don’t think a Tigger warning is needed. On the off chance that you were also locked in your room all the time consider yourself Tiggered.

I want to talk about being locked in my room. I have only just started talking about this so i am not expecting deep thoughts or well structured considered arguments. Actually never expect those things, i am not known for my depth or courtroom like rapier incisive constructs.

This has always been an aside, an afterthought. Oh and he would lock me in my room, a lot. The longest was for two weeks but it could be for just an hour.

It made me so fucking angry.

I didn’t like the isolation.

I would read and sleep and wank and daydream.

You know the kinds of things prisoners do.

It made me feel like i was nothing.

Sometimes i would have to sit on my bed and not move and then he would lock me in and i would just sit there not moving because i was scared what he would do if i did move. It was probably only an hour but it felt like forever.

i was very lonely.

My sisters were never punished in this way. Just me. I used to think it was because boys were naughtier and had different punishments.

I didn’t think it was wrong. I probably still don’t.

Of course it’s wrong. It’s no way to treat a child.

Because it happened so much i just think of it as normal.

So it is difficult when people say it is wrong because it happened and nobody stopped it.

As i have started to speak about it people say things like ‘it’s not normal’ ‘it’s extreme’ it’s not how you should treat children. None of which are true for me. it is very normal, well it wasn’t rare so what makes it extreme?, it was how this child was treated so that’s not true.

Other people knew, my sisters, my step-mother, they let me out to use the bathroom, then locked me in again. I mean i understand that they had no choice but they still did it. At that age it was very hard for me to separate action from intent or motive.

I could hear children playing outside on a summers evening but i was locked in here. I could hear the tv theme of a favourite show and i was missing it because i was locked in here.

I fucking hated it so much.

I hated that it happened and i hated that everybody knew it was happening, it left me feeling like a 2nd class citizen in the family.

Until a few days ago it had never been mentioned. Nobody ever referred to it, nobody asked me about it. Then again nor did i. I didn’t grow up and challenge him, take him to task, question him, demand an explanation. Everybody would rather forget it.

I can’t forget it. I never have.

I sometimes think it was worse than the punching and the kicking.

when you are hit it is over with right away. This lingers. This leaves a bruise on your soul. This damaged my self esteem in a way that has left me feeling less than.

When i was 16 I was told that this wasn’t my mother. Mine had died when i was 12 weeks old. So then i used to think it was because i reminded him of my mother. Better if i was locked away and he didn’t have to look at me. It didn’t make me feel better, but it was a reason, well some of a reason. I am quite used to not understanding why something was done to me. It has a familiar feel to it. I have been here before so this time might be easier, well if nothing else i will quickly reach the plateau of not having any answers. A clear and concise sense of not having a clue.

Over the last 48 hours i have written about it for my mentor and i have thought about it a lot. It is strange to be thinking about it and speaking about it, to be able to explore it and start to understand it. The process feels very like the sexual abuse process. It has similar emotions and feelings. I think it has done some of the same damage and might have even been there first in some cases.

By the time i was in the hands of my sexual abuser i was already able to disassociate, i was certainly conditioned and controlled. So maybe my abuser got me ready prepped and just took me deeper very quickly. Maybe it just made everything much easier to sexually abuse me. Not that there is anything to be gained by carving up the blame. Everyone is dead and i am dead inside. Drama queen much!

This morning I’m so tired from all the broken sleep and nightmares and overthinking. I roamed around Apple Music looking for something, anything, a playlist that didn’t sound like wallpaper. I ended up on Olly Alexander / Years & Years essentials. As I clicked on it, I thought, yeah, this would really piss off my father. Olly’s loud, proud, not sorry for a damn thing. I’m probably playing it in my bedroom right now, really fucking loud, giving him the finger. it’ll do for today.