The Horror Of Death

Until today I have always just wanted to get it over with, I just wanted the death thing to just be successful so that I would never have to do it again and I could go on with my life. I mean, its terrifying to have to suffer through repeated times of the same thing, your family wanting you dead. You definitely begin to understand that you are not wanted, that you are very much alone in this fight for life. The message could not have been any clearer as child. I have felt the panic of death for years. I finally in the past few days have said for the second time in my life that my brother and father tried to kill me when I was little. I finally am coming to terms with the fact that what is really bothering me so much is that I was murdered as a kid and I am still alive. It has truly been puzzling at times. I have been troubled about this since it happened and last night I looked up the troubled because I felt that I use the word correctly but that nobody seems to get it, when I say it. I will often say something if I have an odd reaction in front someone, just like turning a funny color or looking like I am going to puke, all with no apparent reason to them but to me triggers into my past are at every corner of my life. So I will say, "I have had a troubled past, my childhood was difficult," this is all to put them at ease over whatever just happened in front of them.


I have always felt that using the word or phrase "a troubled youth," was a good description of what has happened, without going into any detail. But it seems these days that people don't use the English language the way that I use it. The word trouble means, to disturb the mental calm and contentment of; worry; distress; agitate. Which is really how I have felt since I was small. I just couldn't understand what was really happening to me all the of time. I cannot stand the fact that I will have to go through this whole entire process again. Death is difficult, it is not short by any means, its terrifying actually. I said a few years back in passing to my mother and step-father, "I am beginning to wonder if I can die," my step-father quickly replied, "Oh yes you can, there is no doubt in my mind." I don't know about you but the sarcasm that filled his words as they came pouring out of his mouth, felt like murder as he spoke. As if he was saying, "If I had had the chance to have done it, it would been done properly the first time." Maybe I read to much into things, but it is how I stayed one step ahead of the people hurting me when I was a child. It is just occurring to me today that he was the one with my mother when they were called to the Elementary School the first time I spoke of my brother trying to kill me because he had fucked me. I feel like an idiot, that was 1st grade. I totally forgot that they had known this entire time that my father and brother tried to kill me and had molested me. No wonder I am so paranoid all the time. I am beginning to believe that this is what they, being my family, fears that I will remember and write some book about. The fact that I have never spoken about this as an adult came from the beating I received as a child after the Principle from Frank McCoppin Elementary school called them in to speak about what I had told her that day.

Does anyone realize that I don't give a shit about a book, about the supposed money that I would make, which I believe is a fallacy anyway. Can anyone hear the cry from my words that I write that I am still just terrified of dying again. Do you realize how many times I ended up on the outside of myself, staring back at my dead body? These times are burned into my memory and they are in every cell of my body. It was enough times that I knew to stand around and wait because I probably wasn't all the way dead. Do you know that I have never spoken on it like this before because this really sounds so stupid and by sounding so ridiculous I knew that people would just pass it off and mock me. It is that disbelief that I knew that I would suffer from with anyone I told that has kept me silent all these years. It is bad enough that all these things have happened in my life. Almost as if my family and whomever helped them at the time, cultivated more disasters in my life just to add the element of doubt when I did ever try to tell my story. I knew long ago that it was nearly impossible to communicate the amount of things happened to me in my life and that in trying to do so people would be cavalier, dismissing me by saying, "There is no way that all of that can happen to one person." Which in a lot a ways I agree with, it seems like so much, yet I really have lived through it, amazingly enough. But when you think about it at all, if my family was trying to cover up a crime, attempted murder, than you would do what they did. Keep the insanity constantly going, gas-lighting, beating, interrogating, removing me from school, not educating, taking my kids from me, because in reality they just never stop and its quite impossible for me to explain any one thing and sound half way sane myself. Everybody is so fast to judge any one act, that you never have the opportunity to give the history of what has happened to lead to that one act. If people could know the entire history, which sadly is my entire life, then I would venture to say that they may come up with a different judgement of the situation and certainly a different idea of me. Its hard when its, "You against them." Especially when you cannot even say that one thing without a counselor saying, "Well who is them?" And why is it always, "they or them?" I said to Ulla at the Petaluma Health Facility, "Because, they are them and that would be my family and the church congregants." It turns out, according to her at least that it is some sort of cult identifier of being brainwashed and feeling ganged up on. Sadly, in some cases it is real and because of people having Repressed Memory Syndrome, which is not the same as Suppressed Memory, but regardless they pressed charges against their members only to re-cant 10 years later, saying, "My therapist planted the ideas of abuse." Cases such as these made it so that a case such as mine gets judged by idiots like her who don't seem to recognize that some of us are really damaged and just don't talk about it at all because we are so uncomfortable with the truth.

Do you know how scary it is to have someone try to kill you! and then do it repeatedly? Saying, "If you talk I will kill you." Do you know that you go through this death process each and every time it happens? Do you know how terrifying it is at the moment where you can no longer breath and you are experiencing what death is truly about? I have been so paranoid for years, I mean, death comes to us all eventually, I just wanted to get it over with, so I could live my life in peace. Pretty stupid thing to say because you would be dead, but it is my reality about my life. And then today, somebody heard me, heard what I was saying, heard me explaining that I was a kid thinking about reasons to live. They looked at me and said, "Karen, the likelihood of you being suffocated to death again is not likely at all." I just stopped in mid fluster.

You're right! I had never thought about a different way to die. I have been so stupid and stuck in this mire of fright since I was a child. I won't have to experience running as fast as I can, getting caught, or grabbed! I won't have a bag put over my head! I won't be flipped around with some one's hands around my neck! I won't have been thrown to the ground and sat upon, while fighting like a mad dog! I won't have to walk into a room and look at the closed closet door wondering if that is where they are hiding! I won't have to know every inch of the house, so that I know where the attacks on my life are most likely to take place! I won't have to walk into a room and take notice of the size and dimensional make-up to ensure that there is or is not enough room to man handle me to the ground, breaking my neck in the process! I won't have to worry about the threats, Oh! Wait! Hhmm............still have to consider that one, don't I?

Today I spoke of the horror of death. The point at which the air that breathe is cut off and you are screaming in your head for help, to no avail. I have lived a terrified life. I never thought about the fact that I may die differently until someone said to me today those very words that I wrote. The thing is less than three years ago my step-father put his arm around my neck and through to the ground in the dining room of the home I grew-up in. So when exactly do you end the madness? He tried to snap my neck and had he been successful, it would have been documented as an accident, just a fluke fall. How many flukes can one person have before they say that it is pre-meditated murder to cover up all of their crimes with Wills, Trust Funds and with the things I have yet to mention.

How do you continue to live a life like this one that I have been given? I really don't anymore, all I know is that I cannot get better unless people choose to allow me to just be myself. I am very well aware that my life is beyond sad, that it is a tragedy and the horrors of this reality are haunting. But it is my life and I have been living it, not you. I like my life and don't want to just "Get over it." I have worked so hard to get to where I am today mentally. There have been good times for me and maybe in comparison they don't look that way to you, but to me it's like hearing just dump everything that has made you who you are today and move on or start again. You cannot do that, its impossible, who you are today is the person that has survived what most did not. I am not a bad person, I have found strength in moments that others died. I am the result of what has happened to me for my entire life. Don't discount who I am because you cannot handle how I became this way. I don't tell you to never talk about your past and to move on, forgetting who you are in life and what molded you to be that person. You are unique, just as I am also. I just want justice in this world. I want to be able to exist without being terrified and embarrassed constantly around absolutely everyone. If you don't think that this is embarrassing, you are insane. If you believe that I am writing all of this on my Google Blog for attention, you are madmen. Nobody in their right mind would tell these things to anyone to just get some attention in their life, that is madness and the accusation that is made by people who don't know that worse lives exist and mine is one of them.

I just want to have a voice and be heard, so maybe I can not shake as much everyday. Maybe I can tuck myself away and heal alone, with the support of myself. If I get it off my chest then at least I have finally spoken and I am told that you must speak or you will never even have a chance to heal. That is all I am doing here, I am trying to heal myself of the most horrific acts that mankind can commit on another human life, murder.