Why I should have just stayed in bed...

First, I just have to say as I got ready to write this post, the boy came and asked if he could give me a hug goodnight. He nestled into my side and stayed there for a few moments...so hmph! When he's ready is what's right for him.

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Today I had to go to a four hour sexual misconduct workshop. It's part of my requirements for volunteering (Girl Scouts) at the Catholic School.

I wasn't sure what to expect. I guess I just thought we were going to talk about what we shouldn't do or say around the children. I was confused at the length of it and somewhere deep down I must've thought something because as I was going out the door I told Hubs I was nervous.

Hubs: Why?

Me: I dunno, just seems really long.

Anyway, as I got closer to the Church my stomach started hurting. I'm over the Chuck E. Cheese sickness, so I didn't know what to think.

As nerdy as I am, I sat in the first seat in the front row. So I sat in front of the presenter. Shortly after a male came and sat next to me. I was uncomfortable. The seats were too close. (If you think it's weird why I am talking about this, it will make sense in a minute.) I moved my chair away but it still didn't feel far enough. His arm still brushed against mine and made me recoil. My stomach muscles were tense from holding myself stiffly. I moved my chair again.

Still not enough, but at this point I am telling myself I am being ridiculous.

The presentation starts and we go over the charter of the archdiocese on these workshops, etc.. etc.. but then we start to get in to detailed definitions of sexual matters and assaults. I was dying for the break to come, it was too much. I sat there fighting off tears, telling myself I was being stupid for this reaction because I don't even know really what happened to me. I can't remember much before the age of 11.

The break came and I thought to myself. I can do this! It's dumb, I'll get past it, I'm just being dumb. I had noticed the presenter (a therapist and social worker) looking at me through the presentation and through some of the break. She told me I could go get a drink and cookies, but I declined. I wondered if I was being weird and then I realized. YES! I am being weird. I have my pencil in a vice grip with both hands. I'm sitting stiff as a bored and I am fighting off tears.

I looked again at the materials. Signs to look for when it comes to abuse. As I read through them, I was mentally checking most of the list off in my head. It was becoming harder to control myself. I tried looking out the window, I tried going somewhere else in my mind. I did, I went back to the hospital with that sickening chocolate flavor seeping through my mouth and throat. Waking up to my mother's face telling me to tell them I did it to myself. I didn't know what she was talking about but I saw she was serious.

The next thing I know, there's a police officer talking to me about chosing the chocolate flavor and how he likes chocolate too. He asked me about the object that was found inside of me. I remember being confused because I didn't even know that anyone was going inside of me much less that there was something inside of me. He asked me if I did it and I remembered what my mom said and I told him I did it.

But I didn't.

I came back from where ever my thoughts were to the church and my tears were getting much harder to control. Then I realized I had the words...was this what dissociation was? Did I just do that?

I could hear the woman holding a conversation with a man about New York and I waited except the longer I waited the harder it was for me to keep it in. Fear started taking over me. What was going to happen? Was it going to be like the first time I realized that I had been sexually abused?

I thought I was going to bust and I did.

I went and stood behind the man waiting for him to finish. He walked away quickly and I tried to take a deep breath but instead it came out all jumbled and soblike:

"idontthinkicandothis"

The lady didn't really seem surprised. She tried to calm me down because there were people around talking, laughing and eating cookies. She wanted to keep the attention off of me thankfully.

She stood really close to me and I told her I read ahead on the papers and that I needed to know how much she was going to cover and how deep. She told me she basically skimmed over those parts , lightly touching on the abused adult behaviors then moved onto the procedures of reporting basically.

She also asked me what I was attending the workshop for and told me if I couldn't go through with it to fill out my certificate and if I could my survey form and I could slip out. She reassured me no one would notice because people were getting up and down and milling around while she talked.

She gave me her number and asked me to call her. She said I might feel better talking to someone because it's like a scab that had been picked off and the wound was still there.

I sat down and basically told myself I was going to do this. I was going to sit through this and finish my class. But as the session wore on my silent tears kept dripping from my face onto my shirt and handout. I decided at certain times to just tune out but tuning out didn't seem to be better because it kept bringing back bad memories. Thoughts of why with all the signs, no one helped me.

I made it through the end of the class and I told the lady I would give her a call and I will. But in the back of my mind I worry this will never be over. Some how the scab will continue to be yanked off and the wound will reopen over and over again.

When I got to my van, I cried. After awhile, I thought it was ok to call Hubs but as soon as I heard his voice I broke down again and I hated it because I didn't want to worry him and it was all so stupid.

I grabbed a bite to eat and decided to stop and get the last of the kids clothes and supplies before I went home. I got some good deals and was feeling a little more centered. I was glad to be home. As I drove in through the gates, I noticed one of the dogs was standing in my path that I normally take and I decided to go around the trees instead of trying to make the dog move. That was my mistake.

This is what happened.

I was still so numb and so drained that my anger at myself was just too much work. Then I came inside and realized all hell had broken loose well I was gone.

The kids ran wild. Hubs can't seem to control them and I don't know why. I try to bring it up but he gets upset because a lot of it focuses on him being on the computer or distracted by reading a book or something. He doesn't seem to believe that he needs to be on them constantly. He takes my questioning as criticism. I'm not and I tell him that.

I'm trying to figure out what makes the kids think they are "free and 21" while I am gone. I'll admit to be agitated because I feel like I can't do it all. Before I leave, I give him a rundown of who does what and what he can do with them if he feels like it. I know it doesn't make sense to him because he does spend the majority of the time with the kids.

But for some reason, my presence makes a difference and leaving makes me feel like I have to start all over and put them back on task from square one when I get home. But if I don't leave and get stuff done, who will?

It just sucks.