A new look...

So maybe you noticed the change of color on the blog. I was looking at the blog yesterday and realized that it didn't need to be black anymore. I don't know why I felt that, but I just did and changed it to white. Does that indicate that I am not in a dark mood any longer? Or that life and surviving isn't so terrible? I don't have the answers. I guess in my heart I feel a tiny bit lighter and wanted to reflect that feeling.

I am not better by any means but some days remembering the abuse doesn't feel so horrible. I haven't thought of "leaving" in a while. I have only had one glass of wine in weeks and am not craving it much any longer. I am really tired alot of the time though so I know the depression is still there but my depression is a livable type. Some days are worse than others and I know that I will have many more bad days coming in the next 4 months. October thru January are my least favorite months. One would think that with so much happening, it would be enjoyable. First there is my anniversary and Halloween in October, then my birthday and Thanksgiving in November, then Christmas in December and finally New Year's and my husband's birthday in January.

But aside from all the fun that I should be having, there is always the memories of the times I didn't get to enjoy these months because I was sent away. The first time I was 9 going on 10. It was when I told my mom about the abuse the first time and she didn't believe me. So the resolution to the problem was to have me live with my mom's friend in another city for several months. I had to start a new school and live with strangers. The second time I was 15 going on 16. I was sent away to a mental hospital to deal with my PTSD. At the time, I felt like I was being punished and had no idea what I did wrong. I fought the system and refused all help until I was told I couldn't leave until I made some progress. So I learned to "snow" the system and got to go home in January. I turned 16 in a mental hospital. I remember that I got to make ice cream sundaes as my present. I was also there for the holidays but was able to go home for several days during Christmas.

Each year I remember this trauma to me more vividly than I do the many acts of abuse. It hurt so much to be ripped from my family, even if some members were hurting me. I missed my sister Amber terribly the entire time. My mom visited alot during both times. These were the only times that I really felt like she acknowledged me. She hugged me alot and always brought presents. Unfortunately, I always saw it for what it was.

I miss my mom some days. It has been over 6 months since I have spoken with her. It is a hard thing to do when I am used to picking up the phone and chatting. You see my relationship with my mom didn't really arrive until I turned 18 and joined the Navy. Then my mom became my friend and not so much a mom. The reason I stopped talking to her is because I realized that the secret of my abuse was still a secret. No one talked about it, acknowledged it or accepted it. My mom never talked to me about why she treated me the way she did but just pushed it aside to be my friend. My problem was that I was always thinking about it and it bothered me. I felt like I had to censor myself around her and I didn't want to do that any longer. Remember, I don't keep secrets anymore. So until I have come to terms with the choices my mother made during my childhood, I cannot have a relationship with her. But as of now, I am not ready to forgive. Not yet.