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Friday, April 27, 2012

I even have to welcome his ladyfriend

I was 21 when I fell in love for the first time
It took me almost seven years before my parents accepted I was in love
I waited seven years for that day
That dream was finally coming true
The 27th of April 1996, was my wedding day

February 1989, we were prisoners in our own home with no food, no water, living in fear and danger. No one could reach us, but we had to manage. On the first relatively calm day, my cousin, who was in the Army, came with an uncle to save us from Hell. The army helped them reach us. They came to force us to leave, to save our lives. We packed a few things, and were sent to the village where my father was born and brought up. Just before leaving, my uncle who was still trying to convince my parents to accompany us, told us a very sad story:
Two brothers from that same village, both in the army, got killed at exactly the same time in two different places. I was shocked by this news. However, something else in his report caught my attention: he added that their younger brother aged just 19, saw his older brother, his idol, dying in front of him. He was unable to help. They said he was in a very bad state of mind, banging his head on the walls, unable to cry or talk or live. Without even knowing this guy's name, I fell in love with him, and knew he would become my future husband.
At this time, I was severely depressed and meeting this young man became my purpose, my reason to live. I knew I would be able to help him. The voice I heard telling me that THIS was HIM was so clear.
A few minutes earlier, I had been begging my parents not to send me to the village, and suddenly I was enthusiastic, I needed to go. After less than two weeks there, we met. He very quickly became friends with my cousin and my two sisters, and I was only watching them and trying to help discretely. They all became close friends, never including me in their activities, until the day he came to me and said:" You are hiding a lot of pain, if you need to talk, please don't hesitate to tell me".
That was for me more than enough, and my love story began. It wasn't an easy one, not at all, but it was what I needed at that time in my life.
Seven years later, we got married,

First year of marriage, I was trying hard to adapt to my new life, having a difficult pregnancy
Second year of marriage, I was trying to cope with life and my different roles of wife, mother, employee, but most of all hostess. We received guests, his guests, every single night. I was exhausted
Third year of marriage, I had my second pregnancy. My days started at 4:30 am, and ended at 1:30 am, until one day at 23 weeks of pregnancy, his anger made me about to lose my son, and I had to stay in bed, no movement until delivery day.
Fourth year of marriage, money issues started to rise, creating problems with my family: he forced me to accuse my father of stealing our money.
Fifth year, third pregnancy, mother’s sickness, sisters abroad, a premature girl, and an even more demanding husband.
Sixth year of marriage, I lost my Mum, the only one who knew how to deal with him, my only support with him
Seventh year, I thought I had reached Hell,  but I couldn't envisage what still lay ahead
Eight year of marriage on my wedding anniversary, I had my first “public gift” a huge humiliation in public, something I can’t bring myself to describe even years later.
Nine years after marriage, home became more like Hell
Ten, eleven………..sixteen years, things are still getting worse year after year

We met 23 years ago and have been married for 16 years. I made a choice, and I don't regret it.
My wedding day was a very happy day in my life. That is how it will always be. The events that came after that day, won't ruin the beautiful memory :)

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Sunshine Award

I am so proud to say that I have been nominated by Lisa W. Rosenberg for the Sunshine Award. I have been following Lisa's Blog Writings on Body Image and Identities for some time now, and I love all the subjects she touches as well as her beautiful writing :) Thank you Lisa <3

Here are the rules of this blog award if you are nominated: 

  1. Include the award’s logo in a post or on your blog (see flower photo above)
  2. Answer 10 questions about yourself
  3. Nominate 10 or 12 other fabulous bloggers.
  4. Link your nominees to the post and comment on their blogs, letting them know they have been nominated.
  5. Share the love and link the person who nominated you!

So here are 10 things about me:
1.       What are your favorite things to do?  Sharing LOVE 
2.       Where would you most like to travel to?  To my Dreamland.
3.       Who would you most like to meet who is still living? My Inner self
4.       Who would you most like to meet who has passed away?  Mother Theresa
5.       What do you think is the hardest thing to do?  Giving up on someone for whatever reason
6.       What is your favorite non-alcoholic drink? Fresh fruit juice.
7.       What is your favorite charity?  Red Cross
8.       What are you proud of? Surviving
9.       What ambition do you still have?  Meeting my online friends (mainly 3 of them, I hope they know who they are J)
10.   What is your favorite flower?  All flowers are nice, but I love jasmine because it is so fragile yet beautiful and smells great

NOW the difficult part of the story is that I need to nominate other blogs knowing that I am following around 100 Bloggers and I love them all. In fact, if I didn’t love them, why would I be following? 

Around September 2011, I found and joined a wonderful Facebook page Heal Now and Forever Be in Peace, and through this page I linked to my favorite Blogger Jodi Aman who has two great Blogs healnowandforever and Anxiety-Shmanxiety-Blog . I have read and re-read all the posts, many times and need to go there to read every morning searching for the Inspiration/comfort/love which I need to help me through the day. 

It all started there, and it’s from that place, that I introduced myself into this beautiful Blogging Community. 

I must now nominate 12 WONDERFUL Blogs which I follow.  The Blogs I chose are very inspirational, full of knowledge and are certainly worth a visit from you. This is a great opportunity for me to say THANK YOU to all those amazing people who are teaching me a lot.

These are the amazing blogs/bloggers I am nominating:

  1. healnowandforever
  2. Roots of She
  3. Kind Over Matters
  4. istopforsuffering
  5. Juno Cristi
  6. Amber Dover
  7. bnewvision
  8. Echoes
  9. Daily Spirit
  10. Facets of Joy
  11. bringing Along OCD
  12. Sherrylcook
Just few hours after I have wrote this post, I was so pleased and honored to see I have been nominated again by Nicole Cody, author of the great Blog Cauldrons and Cupcakes. Nicole talks on her Blog of many different spiritual subjects. She shares experiences, meditation, self help advice, and many healthy and yummy recipes. I follow Nicole's Blog very closely, and The Sunshine Award is so well deserved.

This new nomination gives me the nice possibility of choosing now 12 additional Blogs I would love to share with you. I have spent all my time wishing I could mention more, and there it comes!! I think that is Law of attraction!!!

The 12 Blogs I am happy to nominate this time are:

  1. All work and No Play
  2. Second's first
  3. Live the law of attraction
  4. The Antiquated Soul
  5. One sister's Rant
  6. My Inner chick
  7. Nourish Thyself
  8. A scattering of Light
  9. The Bridgemaker
  10. Everyday Gyaan
  11. Motivation is Contagious
  12. My Life in Sweden

I really wish I could mention more!!!
Much love to you all, and thank you for being Part of my Life <3

Sunday, April 22, 2012

ViVa La Musica

"You can shed tears that she is gone
Or you can smile because she has lived.
 You can close your eyes and pray that she'll come back,
Or you can open your eyes and see all she's left.
Your heart can be empty because you can't see her,
Or you can be full of the love you shared.
You can turn your back on tomorrow and live yesterday,
Or you can be happy for tomorrow because of yesterday.
You can remember her only that she is gone,
Or you can cherish her memory and let it live on.
You can cry and close your mind, be empty and turn your back,
Or you can do what she'd want: Smile, Open your eyes, Love, and Go on."
David Harkins

(follow up to my previous post: I got My message)
Two days later.....
On Monday morning, the 22nd of April 2002, I went to work as usual. My boss, a very nice lady, asked me about mum, and for the first time I said with a smile:

"She's in hospital; the doctors said it's over".

"Why did you come? I will ask my driver to take you there now!"

"Oh no, it’s okay!" I said "I won't go. There is nothing I can do for her. Everyone else is there".

How could I tell her that I was scared to go? How could I explain that I was just running away? Trying to avoid being there at the last moment? I needed to be at work at that time, not to feel guilty, just to have an excuse, in order to pretend I am strong. I have faith. I am ready. That this was the Nikky they all knew. I was the one comforting them whenever I saw their tears for my mother.
You see, she was so special, and whoever met her once, just once, would feel really connected to her.
As soon as I was back at my desk, my sister called me and said: 

"The Doctor was here; it's just a matter of an hour or so, please come".

The whole family was in her room. Her face was pinched, her eyes were closed. Her breathing was slow and loud. She wasn't moving. When I sat beside her, my father came close, in tears, and sang: 

"Viva haha haha la musica, viva haha haha la musica..... Sing with me, sing with me now, please sing it for Nikky, you know she loves this song, sing with me, sing it for her ....." 

No movement, nor reaction from her side except a single tear that rolled down her face.
My sisters took my dad out to help calm him down. I stayed and held her hand. I suddenly heard her little voice say: 

" la mu....sica...... la mu.............sica".

My heart was running crazy, I was breathless, I called out "Dadddddyyyy come, come and listen to her ..." The singing had obviously exhausted her. The machine linked to her body started sounding an alarm and nurses came immediately into the room.

My father, two sisters and I all held her close together and said a prayer. The rest of the family joined us around the bed; we were all holding hands in a circle around her, praying as she gave her last breath. Her face turned automatically from a pinched, pale face into a pure, smiling and peaceful one. I kissed her forehead and left the room.

We decided to print a small little booklet where everyone could say a few words about her. This booklet was distributed to all the participants at the big Mass which we held to celebrate her life. This was my entry:

Thank you Lord, for the grace of choosing my mother, the most beautiful flower in your garden. Thank you for picking her quite late to give her enough time to prepare herself for meeting you, and soon enough to save her from additional physical pain

Friday, April 20, 2012

I got MY Message

April 20, 2002. It was a Saturday. The week was very busy and hard at home. She was reacting bad to the Morphine patches. We started to see the truth, the bitter truth that we had been refusing to accept. All the false hopes they had given us were replaced by anger and frustration. Where are those Miracles you had promised? Why did you make her swallow all those carrot juices, onions and honey? Someone came to us, and told us he received a message from above, telling us that if she eats onions, honey and carrot juice for three weeks, she will be cancer free, and we will all be singing Alleluia!

Three weeks ended, 6 weeks were gone, and she was only getting worse and worse. The last week we finally realized the Truth, She has told us the truth. She knew it and was ready. 
She gave each one of us a message to carry all life long.
She couldn't remember my father's name, so he asked her with his angry and sad voice: "WHO AM I??? WHO AM I? Can't you remember me?"
She opened her eyes, and said: "You are the one I love".
When my youngest sister sat on her bed, mum looked at her and said: "Please be happy. I want you to be happy".
To my other sister her message was different. In fact it was an enigma for everyone except for me. She told her: "I want to tell you ALL the truth. You have to know the truth".
My sister, worried, said: "Tell me now? What truth? What am I supposed to know?"
Mum replied "I will send you the answer at the right time, from above".
On that Saturday morning, I got my message. She had stopped eating, was in pain and almost unconscious. The doctors came to our home on Friday night and said it was over, and that we should send her to hospital. We called the ambulance, and they arrived to take her away from home, her home. It was so hard to see her carried away, knowing she would never return. Neighbors were on the balconies or the stairs saying their goodbyes. My two sisters rushed to enter the ambulance while I was watching from a few meters away. She turned her head and tried to speak. Looking at me, she raised her finger and told them: "I want her, only her with me in here". I took a seat in the ambulance next to her, held her hand while she finally shed her first tears and cries of pain. For the first time, she let go of her pain and feelings, for the first time, I knew she was physically really suffering. The pain was drawn on her face. I heard painful tears running from her heart. I could feel Death coming for her, and my heart filled with ALL of her love which, through my life, I had felt deprived of.
She chose ME to be with her.
She wanted ME to see her tears.
She loved ME.
That was her message to ME,

To you Mum! (a page of my diary on the 30Th of September 2007)

In my session of Friday the 28th of September:
She asked me to describe you; I told her that you are beautiful, elegant, always smiling, and always happy.
She asked me to tell her about what I don’t like in you; I told her that you are so sweet and so kind, that I am jealous to see how people love you. I don’t want to share you with the others.
She asked me how you are treating me; I said you always treat me very nicely, giving me small pushes when I need it, and encouraging when I act well.
She asked me what you taught me; I told her you taught me to be responsible, respectful, honest, and sincere.
She asked me what happened to you; I couldn’t tell her anything else than: you’re gone and didn’t come back.
She asked me why I talk about you in the present tense; I answered because my friend told me that you are still here with me, just behind me, giving me strength and support.
Please stay with me, comfort me, I need you Mum! 

I was invited by Samar on the Blog Echoes to write a guest post. Thank you for visiting her Blog

Monday, April 16, 2012

The Child that is Me

In January 2012, I found and joined the website , and since that time, I follow very closely the newsletters, tips and blog posts of Linda Armstrong "Thought Empowerment Coach". 
As a response to one of my comments on the blog, I received a very nice reply ...

"I do a series of meditations that put you in touch with your Future Self and also go back and heal your inner child. Let me know if you might be interested in doing this. I would give you the first session as a FREE session. I offer anyone who wants one a free session."

Although I was feeling guilty for having a free session when I know I can't possibly afford more, the appointment was arranged, and I was very excited since I have always believed in the power of my thoughts, without knowing it has a name and it's called "the law of attraction".

I didn't succeed in getting away from home to use my father's empty, peaceful flat, and that stressed me a lot. My daughter kindly suggested that I  use her laptop in her room. At exactly 5:30 pm, I got the Skype call. I was ready.

It was such a beautiful journey. We decided to go to the top of the mountain and observe the world, my world from above. As I was walking in silence, breathing the fresh and clean air, listening to the beautiful sounds of Mother Earth, I saw HER. She had that severe look, the only look I know of her. Her eyes bore a pained expression . I was never before able to go towards her as I was sure she hated me. This time, I smiled at her, walked towards her, didn't say a word, and took her with me right to the top. I sat on the ground, she sat on my lap, my arms around her shoulders, as I tried to explain.....

Much later, I shared the wonderful details of my trip with my friend Pat ... as I was talking, she wrote the following poem into the message slot, which I share with you here ...

I met a face, a special face
On my computer screen
She wore a special smile
Her aura emerald green
She helped me meditate that day...
Led me down special paths ... ...
She brought me peace, a special peace
While in my heart I laughed
At the end, she said to me ... "now it's ok to cry"
I sat there and I smiled at her
While my eyes stayed dry

She said "you know, it's time to cry
Let all those blocked tears flow
It's time to let your pain right out
It's ok now, you know"
The while, I sat and smiled at her,
Her face, it crumpled up
As SHE began to shed those tears
Which I held. bottled up ...
She wept and sobbed, she cried for me
She washed my heart quite clean
While I just sat and watched her face
On my computer screen.

PS ...
One day, I hope, I'll sit and weep
I'll let the dam walls crack ...
I, too, will let it all gush out
With no more holding back ...
But, just for now, she's helped me find
A peaceful, quiet place
Which came to me while I sat there,
As my tears rolled down her face.

Patricia Eastwood

Linda Armstrong gave me a great gift ... she gave me back to myself ... as well as that, she gave me the healing balm of those precious tears which I cannot shed for myself, yet. Thank you, Linda. Thank you from me and also from the child that is me.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Living in a Fairy Tale

Like most little girls, I loved fairy tales and identified with the characters. I also dreamed of the Prince charming and the Fairy Godmother who would come to save me.
Whenever I went to the country village to visit my grandmother, I became Little Red Riding Hood, and the older cousin who abused me there was the Big Bad Wolf.
When my family used to comment on my "extremely" white skin, or when my schoolmates made fun of me for being so pale, I wished I could be Snow White, hiding in the woods and finding a wonderful family I could serve and love.
When I buried my face in the pillow and cried my heart out, I prayed God to either take me, make me very ill, or at least make me sleep until I became old enough to be found by a wonderful Prince who would wake me with his kiss.

I loved all those characters, but I was drawn to Cinderella. I always felt like Cinderella at home, and I don't blame anyone else for that. I put myself in that situation: I wanted to please anyone and everyone ... I needed to feel accepted and loved. Cinderella kept dreaming and working hard on realizing her dream until the day finally arrived when she found her Godmother.
Cinderella's Godmother is very special and so hard to describe. She can't be defined by human criteria like age, shape, sex etc. Her beauty can't be compared to anything else as it is unique and dazzling. She just entered Cinderella's life at the perfect moment, sending her light to Help and Guide. Cinderella's Godmother is LOVE, and she was the amalgam of all the LOVE flowing to Cinderella, which she had found online... all these new, loving, uncritical, supportive friends part of the new family Cinderella had found online and who all joined together, wrapping her in a protective white blanket of fairy godmother-like love. 
Now, tomorrow, Cinderella had arranged a wonderful meeting with one of the most important pillars of her new family. She was over-excited about it, planning and dreaming, talking and wishing, believing and trusting it was the beginning of the end ... the end of her misery.
However, as time passed, doubts and fears started to set in and she began to wonder whether this wonderful luck was, in fact, too good to be true? She became anxious and scared, and was so afraid she might lose this great opportunity that her negative thoughts took her to a really dark and scary place. She even thought she would prefer not to wake up in the morning rather than have her meeting cancelled. Her only refuge was in the heart of the Fairy Godmother who managed to calm her down and give her faith and strength.
D-Day arrived. Cinderella's excitement was intriguing everyone around. She wanted her meeting to be quiet and peaceful so she chose not to be at home. She got ready as fast as she could, not wanting to lose a single moment of the coming happiness.

As she was about to leave the house, exactly one hour prior to the appointment, she was delayed by her two kittens who begged to accompany her. Accepting would take less time than arguing about it, so five minutes later, Cinderella and her kittens were in the car.  She promised to buy them ice cream so that they would keep quiet and not disturb her during the meeting (5 more minutes gone). She drove for about one kilometer before realising that she had forgotten the keys of her meeting place, so she had to drive back home. Twenty minutes left before the allotted time ... stress levels are climbing fast, driving is going faster.
With no real idea how she managed it, she arrived safely at her dad's place, letting herself in with five minutes still in hand. 

Cinderella and her dear friend met online, as arranged... two ladies, half a world apart, with similar ideals....They talked, they laughed.... for an hour. It was great, just perfect!
Afterwards, Cinderella and her kittens drove home on a cloud of sparkling stars....

Sunday, April 8, 2012

Happy Easter


Easter this year was not real fun, and I don't mean the previous years were particularly good, but  I just can't remember how they were. I guess that's a good sign!
Tension has been rising really fast lately at home, and the stress level was almost out of control on  Thursday afternoon.
On Friday, since it was a Holiday, we all stayed at home, including Mr. "I'm bored". Whenever he's home, he needs to create problems to anyone in order to distract himself, and since we all know that, we usually do our best to keep him busy.
On that same day, my winter guest, his mother, left to go home, to her village. For Mr."I'm bored" that was the perfect opportunity to 'let go" all of his anger and frustrations that he had tried very hard to keep quiet for all those months while she was around.
Plans were that we would join her on Saturday morning in the village. Those visits to the village have always been torture for me who loves silence and peace. When we gather there for any occasion, we are 23 persons to live and sleep in two rooms. I was there, both hands swollen, in pain, walking like a duck, and enjoying a perfect migraine.

My only remedy for difficult situations is to look at the "funny" part of  it, which I did. There were several situations this week-end where I had difficulty stopping myself laughing aloud, for example:

  • We had to go for a condolences visit. Everyone was fine on the way, talking and laughing. When we arrived to the house of the deceased woman (Mr. I'm bored's aunt), his mother distributed paper towels to us, and made sure I understood the instructions. She was to say the first words about her sister, and her daughters and I were to cry out loud asking her to stop making things harder on us. The men accompanying us were supposed to dry their "silent tears" while looking towards the wall (not to be noticed). As usual, these situations make me laugh instead, which is not that bad, as by looking down, hands on the face, they always think I'm crying :)
  • Since I didn't help in preparing the meal (which wasn't possible for me because of the pain in my hands), I had my second dose of his boredom medicine: he decided I was to be punished by not eating over the week-end.
  • I have a sister in Canada, and we might be able to visit her this summer. Mr. "I'm bored's"brother who last year promised my father to be "my protector". He caught part of a bullying session this week-end at the village, where Mr. "I'm bored" had his hand raised to hit me. His solution was to say:  "Please be careful, brother, don't go to Canada, or you would die in Jail" (the cousin who also lives there, spent two years in a Canadian jail for slapping his spouse). 
  • The funniest part was the battles at night! In that house,  there are four beds....and there are twenty three people....I was able to grab a sheet for myself, wrapping it tightly around me. I sat on a couch and tried to sleep. I was woken about 1.00 am by my daughter, shouting at her aunt.... who had been trying to steal the pillow which my child was gripping, tightly, like a treasure it truly was.

I pray you all had a wonderful Easter :)

Happy Easter!

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

Living in Hell

  • Syrian airplanes bombed Lebanese Christian strongholds in ZahlĂ© and East Beirut, renewing a war that had been on hiatus since 1976.
  • Syrian artillery suddenly and furiously bombarded East Beirut at a time when students were leaving schools to head home on April 2, 1981. Casualties and injuries were in the Hundreds
  • 4-2-1981. Syrian artillery basis located in Mount Lebanon shells East Beirut killing 100 innocent civilians, including school students,      and without any warning.

 That is war! They say it's over, but I know it's not. War is not limited to one country, to one population. War is not only destroying buildings and places, it is killing humanity, and destroying souls.

I have been thinking of that day with a lot of anxiety since yesterday ... trying to push the memory away or turn it into a positive one. It's hard, and I know all of you have memories that are hard to ignore.
Before trying to write about it, I tried to find information on Google about that specific day, and I gathered the three statements I mentioned above.

That's it? Bombs, missiles that killed 100 innocent civilians? They talk about it as if it was an insignificant incident.
Does anyone know or think about what that day represented for us who lived it? I am not able to talk about my emotions now, so I will just state the facts as they occurred.

It was a calm day in early April. I was at school as usual. Since Teta (my grandmother) had died, I used to walk almost 3 km to give my grand father his lunch. My youngest sister left school that day with her friend to spend the afternoon, and Mama and my other sister were to visit my father at his new office for a surprise. On their way, Mama asked my sister to wait for her in the entrance of a building while she wanted to buy some food from the grocery shop. Everyone was in a different place when it started.
I was still walking, on my way. Suddenly, it all began. Bombs and explosions resonated all around me, windows were broken, people were panicking, cars driving crazily, trying to escape and I was walking. Strangers were calling me to come and hide, asking what would a 13 years old girl do on the streets alone, but I just accelerated focusing on Jeddo, my grandfather, and him waiting for me to cook his lunch.
    When I arrived, I found Jeddo's neighbors waiting for me and scared as Mami, my mama, had called to check if I had arrived safely. 
    Jeddo was living on the 5th floor, the top floor of the building ... which is always the most dangerous. I argued with them all because I wanted to go upstairs to Jeddo. They tried hard, but no one managed to stop me. Sounds became closer and louder. The cement strong building was shaking. Electricity went off, telephone lines went off, people were now all yelling at me and at Jeddo to force me to leave and go down with them to the shelter in the basement.
    Rockets reached our street, our building. All windows in the apartment were broken. I was worried about my parents, my sisters, my aunt. I didn't know where they were. All I wanted is for them to be safe. I wasn't afraid of dying. Nor was I frightened of the sounds as much as I was scared of any of them being hurt. I know I prayed. I remember asking God to protect them for me, to bring them back home safe, and I begged him to choose me if in His plans, one of us was to get hurt. I would gladly give my own life in exchange for one of theirs.
I'm not able to say more about it now. We were all reunited almost 48 hours later, homeless as our own apartment had been completely destroyed ... we had nothing, but we were alive. We were all safe.

That is war for whoever didn't experience it, not the breaking news we see briefly on TV. That is real, and it is still happening. Isn't it ENOUGH? Isn't it easier to love each other and make PEACE?

Sunday, April 1, 2012

April's fool day!

April 1st is the only day we're allowed to tell lies. That was one of the most important days for us when we were kids. I have no idea how important it is in other countries, but people wait for it here, maybe to continue telling their lies, but being guilt free.
I wanted to be like everyone else and be able to tell lies and have a good laugh with others about it, but that was "mission impossible" as I would directly blush, shake, look at the ground, and get confused, so I was directly identified.
The most hurtful things one can accuse me of are: liar and selfish. I don't know why I can handle other accusations better than those two. I don't lie, but for some reason, when I am accused of being a liar, I start doubting myself and I really get confused about the truth and whether it happened or not.
I am called and accused to be a liar on a daily basis at home.

I joined in 2007 a website for depression, and members were encouraged to share their story, their diary, and get support from other members. It's on that site that I found my first online friends, and it's on that site too that I was openly accused to be a liar, with direct emails, and public posts of other members. That happened on the 29th of September 2007.
For some reason I still ignore, my best friends on the site suddenly decided I was fake, and have never been depressed and never went through anything bad all my life. Sharing on that site was my very first attempt to open up and talk about myself, and it was the last until July this year.

Now that I am learning again to open up and ask for help, the first question that keeps coming to my mind, and that I do sometimes ask is :do you believe me? I also have tendency to directly produce proofs I might have like medical reports, hospital bills, emails etc...Does that mean I still didn't let go of that past incident? How to explain the need of justifying my says to others?

I don't really need to understand why do people lie, as It's not really my problem, it is theirs, but what hurts me is why can't they believe me when I am saying the truth. The closest people to me prefer not to believe me rather than see the truth. Are they trying to avoid being hurt? Is it easier for them to think I am creating stories?
I have been thinking about that a lot lately. I find myself wondering why this is such a delicate issue for me. At the age of six when the I was first abused, I was already scared to tell anyone as I was sure no one would believe me. There must be a reason.
April's fool day :)

I only succeeded once. I was 22 years old. I called 3 guys, members of the choir I was part of, and gave the 3 of them an appointment at the same time same place, mentioning it was an emergency, but that NO ONE else must know about our meeting. I went to the place agreed on, and waited in my car where I could watch them secretly. The three friends were there waiting for me, and each one was trying to encourage the others to leave before I get there. I still laugh at that memory. It might seem very silly, but for me, it was a real success, as for once, I did lie and enjoyed it.