And I 've talked to Robby about it lately but it hasn 't helped . He 's been sweet about it , telling me that I matter , hugging me , but it just hasn 't helped . Because he 's been the one making me feel lonely . He keeps withdrawing from me , putting up this wall that I can 't get through . So I just keep trying harder . Trying to be noticed . Trying to do everything , and do it all right . And tonight was a catastrophe , which I won 't get into , but I ended up telling him how I 've been feeling . That he makes me feel lonely because he shuts me out . That I feel like if I don 't try and connect with him , that we will just be here but never really together . And how it 's so confusing because some days he will want to be intimate , will really be himself , will be comfortable with our relationship . But then the next he will act as though he 's just going through the motions . Because he never follows through . He says he 's going to make changes , says he 's going to do this and that , and for a little bit he does . But then it stops . He stops being a partner in our relationship . Stops trying . And it just goes back to the way it was , with me trying so desperately to bring him back . And I shouldn 't have to bring him back . All I want is for him to be here , really here . And every time he pulls back , or stops trying , or leaves me emotionally , it hurts . And to be honest , I don 't know how many times I can go through this . It seems like it happens every year . But words are just words , and I have to look at the actions . And I don 't want to reach my limit . I don 't want to have to accept that it 's never going to change . So I 'm going to keep trying , keep loving him , and most importantly keep telling him when he hurts me . And maybe it will get better and be real this time . But I 'm so afraid that I 'm going to end up alone , whether alone in our relationship time and time again , or truly alone . Without him . I am just so down - hearted . This most recent revelation about the trauma has really hit me hard and I feel so broken . I don 't want to face the world right now . It 's all too fresh , too raw . I 'm still mourning the full depth of the betrayal . The reality of what was taken from me , what he did to me . And I just don 't know how to compartmentalize that when all I want to do is cry . But I have to live my life . I have responsibilities . The dishes need done , the checkbook needs balanced , I have to go grocery shopping , and I work tomorrow at 6am . And I just want to watch Disney movies and eat ice cream . I wish Robby was awake . Talking to him helps me figure things out so much . I know I need to take care of myself , but I feel so guilty putting everything off . And to be honest , I don 't see how just one afternoon is going to help . I guess that it 's just a matter of perspective and balance . I have to live my life , and I have to take care of myself . So I will do what I need , and I will take care of myself . I 'm probably going to do the very little , but I 'm not going to do nothing . I can do little spurts of life in between hiding from the world . Big T trauma ( Trauma ) is a horrific event . A person who is gang raped , someone who survived the 9 / 11 attacks , being in war . Something that would be horrifying to anyone . Something that you would expect anyone to get counseling for . Little T trauma ( trauma ) is an ongoing scarring event . Being bullied your entire childhood , an overly critical parent , living in a household with an alcoholic or addict . Something that causes your reactions to become ingrained overtime into the very nature of you , so much so that you don 't even realize that you 're different . Lori thinks - and it makes sense now that I look at it - that the extreme bullying and ostracization I experienced from 2nd grade on developed into a case of Little T trauma and I have never really recovered from it . It 's why sharing things about myself makes me feel vulnerable and unsafe . Why I don 't like to talk about myself , especially my struggles . Why I always feel as though I have to keep everyone at arms length and even have a hard time opening up to my husband and my family . Why I can 't for the life of me ask for help even when I know someone is treating me in a damaging way . Why I have this overwhelming fear of telling people what I need . Why I am terrified of showing any kind of weakness or flaw , because a part of me is just waiting for someone to turn that against me . I thought it was a normal kid argument . You see it all the time : Kid A and Kid B argue , A says one thing , B says the opposite . The class takes sides . A few days ( or hours ) later , it 's all over and everyone is friends again . I kept thinking ' maybe this is the day they 'll be my friends ' . Maybe this time they 'll include me . Maybe this time they won 't tease me . Maybe this time I won 't be the brunt of the joke . Maybe this time when I trust them , they won 't torture me . Maybe this time , maybe this time . And I could never figure out why . I didn 't make sense . And I kept trying . For years . I know it sounds pathetic , but I just kept thinking that somehow , someday , I would discover the right thing to do , to say , something , anything to make it all go away . But it just never happened . They were always against me . It never got better , I just moved away . After I told my parents what he had done to me , they held me out of school for a day . From what I know , they contacted the school and he was sent to a counseling session . I can clearly remember being terrified to go back to school . I didn 't want to face him . I didn 't want to face anyone . They were all going to judge me . I was convinced everyone would hate me . I know he had told me that everyone would hate me if I told , but my parents didn 't hate me , so I don 't know why I was so scared to go back to school , but man was I scared . I don 't remember if they kept me out a second day , or just part of a day , or what , but I remember them telling me that I didn 't have to tell anyone why I wasn 't there or what had happened . That it was nobody 's business but mine , and they didn 't need to know . That the teacher 's weren 't going to tell the students , and that he shouldn 't tell anyone either , so there was no reason to be scared to go back to school . So I went . But the moment I walked into the classroom , everything was different . I could feel the difference in the room , and I remember seeing the kids across the room whispering together and I immediately felt afraid . The girl - who until that day was my best friend - came up to me and said ( in an extremely superior and condescending voice ) " He told us what you did " and swear I could feel the world drop from under my feet . What I did ? I asked her what she meant and that was when she told me . That he has told everyone that I made up the story that he had abused me just to get even with him because he had broken up with me the year before . I tried to tell her that I didn 't make up anything , but she didn 't believe me . She walked away and I remember standing there at my little yellow locker , just fighting down the panic and the sorrow . I always figured that somehow the truth had gotten out and he had panicked and tried to counter it with the lie he told , and they chose him and the lie . But , as Lori pointed out , they probably never heard the truth . Other than that one little girl , I never talked to anyone . They never heard the truth . So , to them , his lie was fact . In the minds of all those kids , I was a vicious liar just trying to hurt their friend . I hate that anyone could think that I was capable of purposely hurting someone . Because the exact opposite is true . He hurt me . I was just trying to get help . It feels like he was punishing me for trying to get help . And he didn 't even need to tell that lie . No one would have known why he was pulled out of school . There was no reason to do that other than to be malicious . He went to everyone before I was even back at school and told this giant lie just to purposefully hurt me . How can someone be that evil ? I can accept that the abuse was a reaction to him being abused , but telling that lie was more damaging to me than anything else , and that was just done out of spite . He cost me my childhood . I didn 't have a childhood , I barely survived it . And I can never get that back . And I just have to keep trying to heal , trying to recover from what he did to me . And it 's just so unfair because there is no justice . I never did anything wrong and I am left to pay the consequences . I am suffering . I have to work to heal , fight to heal , pay to heal . My life has been damaged , broken , and all I can do is live with it . More than anything , I just want justice and I feel like I will never get it . Because I 'm still living in this trauma . Still expecting everyone to be against me . Still feeling like it 's not safe to trust anyone , because the second I do , they 're going to turn on me . And legally there is no way to get justice . It 's past the statute of limitations . It doesn 't matter that he sexually abused me , it 's been too long . And in any case , there is no documentation because no case was ever opened ( which makes me wonder if the school believed him ) . And I highly doubt there would be a way to get justice for the bullying that was caused because of his lie , even if I had reported it at the time . I hate knowing that he did these horrible things to me and got away with them . It was just horrible . I 've heard him yell before , but she has always yelled back . At least , I thought she had . But this morning . This morning was like nothing I 'd ever heard before . I had my headphones in and was listening to Harry Potter while I worked on our budget , and I had just taken my headphones out to call AAA to have them jump my car when I heard it . He was yelling . Like I said , I 've heard him yell before . Unfortunately , him yelling isn 't uncommon . And , to be honest , Rob and I have wondered before if he is abusive , but we 've never had anything other than a feeling . Because among his yelling I could hear banging - thumping even - and a guttural wail . It was that soul deep cry that happens when you 're heartbroken . I made that exact noise when Rob and I were falling apart last year and when we lost Jamie . I have made that sound so many times when the trauma of the abuse consumes me . I know that noise . And I felt myself grow cold when I heard it come from next door . I think they were in the front of the house because that 's where the sound was loudest , so I cracked our front door open so I could hear more clearly . And what I heard just confirmed that he was hurting her . There was lots of swearing . She was moaning and crying . She said ' please stop ' . I don 't know if they heard me call , or if I was too loud when I shut the door , because the sounds stopped abruptly while I was on the phone . I gave the dispatcher all the info I could , and they said they would send someone . Then she asked if I wanted to leave my name , and that 's when I hesitated . I knew that leaving my name would help her if it came to court , but I was also terrified that he would find out I had turned him in and then come after me . I asked the dispatcher if giving my name would help keep her safe , and she said that they prefer witnesses leave names and contact info for those types of calls , so I did . And I 'm still scared . I kept glancing out the peep hole every few minutes , praying that the police would get there soon and help her . I imagine it didn 't take long for them to get there , but it felt like forever before they showed up . I finally saw the cop at the door , but he didn 't knock . I wasn 't sure if he was trying to hear her cries ( although she 'd been quiet for a while ) or what , and he walked away for a bit and then came back . After a while , he walked away and another cop left the house , so I think one was in the house while the other was outside . But then they still didn 't leave . They were hanging around in the side parking lot next to the neighbors house . And then a few minutes later the neighbor rode up to the sidewalk on his bicycle . He got off the bike , looked at the cops , and said " do you guys know what 's going on ? " . They keep their bikes on the back porch . He must have gone out the back door , gotten his bike , and rode off so that he could claim he hadn 't been there . And I just couldn 't stop thinking " what kind of person does that ? " . Not only does he beat his wife , but he has the malice and forethought to think how to make himself seem innocent . That 's just horrible . And way too familiar . I want to help her . I want him to have to pay for what he 's done . I don 't want anyone to have to be trapped , but I don 't know how to help her , and that makes me feel helpless . The only think I can think of is to keep my eyes open and if I hear anything again , I need to get my camera and record it so I have evidence . I don 't think talking to her will help , because most physical abuse victims won 't leave their abuser , and if she didn 't take the police 's help then she probably won 't take help from anyone . And I 'm scared that he will find out it was me and try and take revenge . But I hope he is a coward , like most abusers . And the situation brings up bad memories and feelings , but all I can do about that is process it , talk to Robby and Sheila about it , and try to help her so it doesn 't haunt me . I could never know abuse was happening and not try and help . I just keep praying that he will get arrested . I need to stop avoiding . I 've been super busy lately , and I think I 've been using it as an excuse to avoid facing my feelings . I know facing them makes life so much better ( not always easier , but better ) , but it is just so hard . Sometimes I am afraid of what I will see . What I will learn about myself . Because what I learn could completely throw me . To be honest , there are still some questions I have written down that I 'm not ready to ask myself , because I 'm just not ready for what I might see in the answer . But I can 't avoid everything I 'm feeling . I know that not every answer is going to be so hard to face . I know that some answers will bring relief . But I have seen so many things on my journey that have torn at my soul and ripped at my heart , that it is so hard to face the questions , even if they might be easy . I 've been fighting tears all day , but now I don 't feel weak letting them fall . Because now it 's not the PTSD scaring me into crying . It 's me choosing to stand and face the feelings that I 'm afraid of instead of the PTSD chasing me down and making me Its victim . My job had started off really well . I was a bookseller at Half - Price Books and I was really loving it for the first few months . For the first time I had a full time job that I was enjoying and I was even making friends . My boss really seemed to like me and she and the other managers had been giving me good reviews . I was highly optimistic about my future there . I 'm not exactly sure what went wrong or when . We were dealing with a ton during that time . Rob had just been diagnosed with bi - polar disorder and we were adjusting to the new life that comes with that diagnosis . In addition to having to learn to manage the bi - polar , Rob was also taking full - time classes AND working full time . I was trying to help Rob as best as I could adjust and was helping him with his classes to lighten his load . With both of us working full time we hardly ever saw each other , especially because we often ended up working opposite shifts or having different days off . Also , we moved in July and in August my parents said they couldn 't take care of my dog anymore so he needed to come live with us , but a few days after him getting here the apartment people told us he wasn 't allowed so I had to make hurried arrangements to move him back to my parents house and pay for them to care for him . Oh , and also sometime during all that we had to battle fleas . So I slowly started slipping into my ' self - neglect ' phase , but I was trying so hard to fight it . I started seeing Sheila every week and that seemed to help for a while , but I guess not enough . My boss - Ginny - started treating me oddly . She switched my schedule , along with a few other workers , around to shifts that she knew we didn 't want . She stopped talking to me in the break room . Anytime I spoke to her she was curt and seemed irritated with me . I had no idea what was going on . I tried to give her space and just do my work . Then she started criticizing everything I did . When a customer was rude she scolded me for not being a better employee , even when the same customer had given several other employees problems just moments before . Things like that just kept happening . And I had no idea why . I asked some of my co - workers who I was ( am ) friends with , and they said that Ginny just did that sometimes . She just seemed to go through stages where she tried to get rid of people and to just hang in there , she would stop eventually . That it had happened to them . But it hurt , I felt like I was being singled out for no reason . I felt bullied . One day she called me into her office and said that my attendance had been poor and if I called in again I would be put on probation ( oh , I forgot to mention that during this time my migraines were changing and I was being heavily monitored by my doctor , and my grandmother had been suddenly admitted to the hospital for heart failure and was not expected to make it through the night so I rushed to see her . Surprisingly she is still alive today . ) I really think that conversation was the final straw for me . I went on my lunch break and cried hysterically in my car for the entire hour . I felt awful . I knew that my attendance wasn 't exemplary and I needed to do better , but the PTSD immediately made me feel trapped . I just wanted to do my job , but every second was a struggle . I fought through the next week , minute to minute , crying most of the day even while working . Trying desperately to hide it from my co - workers and the customers . Trying desperately to shove my feelings down . But they just got worse . Every day I walked into the store I felt more like a caged animal , starting to go insane , wanting to scream and tear at the bars . One night I talked to Rob and told him how bad it had gotten . I had been keeping a lot from him , especially about Ginny 's treatment of me , because I didn 't want to say it out loud . I didn 't want to admit how bad it was . But I couldn 't handle it anymore . So I told him I needed to quit . I didn 't want to , but I needed to . I finally got my courage up to tell Rob how broken I was and that I had let it get too bad . So bad that I needed to leave my job . That I was sorry , that I wanted to fix it , but I felt the only course of action was to quit and regroup . He listened to me . He asked if he could do anything to help . He was supportive but I could tell he was antsy about me quitting . Later that night I came downstairs to see him crying . It felt like I had been stabbed . I felt like I had let him down . I knew that I had made a mistake . I knew I shouldn 't have let things get as bad as they had , that I should have said something sooner , but it was too late and I had to deal with things as they were . And I knew he was worried about money . But I couldn 't go back . But I couldn 't hurt him either . I hugged him and told him I was sorry . That I would make it work . To forget what I had said . And I tried to bury it . To push it down . I cried most of the day in the back room while working with the stock . I had to take a Lorazepam just to walk into the store , then another one at lunch . I think I took another 1 or maybe 2 during the day too . I know it was a ridiculous amount of medicine . And I was still on the verge of a panic attack the entire day . After work I dropped something off to Rob at his work and I mentioned to him again that I needed to quit my job . I told him my day was awful and I couldn 't do it anymore . I don 't remember what he said but the gist was that we couldn 't swing it . I nodded and as I started to drive away I burst into tears . When I got home I took off my work clothes and threw them on the floor by the door . I wanted to be as far from my job as possible . In my underwear , I went upstairs and crawled into bed where I sobbed , literally sobbed , until I got a text . And then another . They were from Sheila and my mom . I guess Rob had seen my face as I drove away , because he immediately got in touch with them , letting them know he was worried about me and that they should contact me . It was good he did . I wasn 't planning anything , but I felt so trapped . I didn 't feel as if I had a way out of my life . I texted with Sheila and talked to my mom , and when Rob got home we decided that quitting Half - Price was the right thing . I called the next morning and quit . My mom came up and returned my name badge so I didn 't have to go to the store , and I spent the day crying and trying to pull myself together . That was my last job . I had thought that it would be impossible to keep a job with the PTSD , that eventually they would all make me feel trapped . But now I have the possibility of a future without PTSD . I could have a job . But I 'm still scared . I know that some ( most ? ) of that is residual from Half - Price . Sheila and Lori have suggested taking the job thing in little steps . One step that I thought of is to make a list of things that I want from a job . Here is what I have so far . Basically , I want a job that means something . I don 't want a job just to have a job . I 've worked at Kroger and Walmart just to earn money and it didn 't work out . I want to go to work each day and feel that what I do is important and makes a positive impact on the world . I would love to teach somewhere . The second requirement is harder to explain . I don 't mind working . Rob already works 40hrs a week , so I don 't see him then anyways . I just don 't want to work opposite hours of him all the time because then we would never see each other and our relationship would suffer . Ideally , I would only work 1 - 2 shifts opposite him . Finally , I want to be able to attend church . If not every week , then at least most weeks . Church is very important to me and I love not only going , but teaching there as well . I don 't want to lose that from my life . I think it is something I really need . I don 't think my list should be too hard to fulfil , and I hope that it helps me find the right job . Because I do want to work . I just want to find the right work . I remember sitting at that low wooden desk with my book , I think it was Henry and Mudge , waiting for my turn to read aloud . I was wearing long sleeves . I think they were light pink . He was pulling at the sleeves , trying to get his hand in them . I was confused , I thought we were going to read . I didn 't think that that was going to happen every time we sat here . I wanted to learn . He kept trying but could get his hand in the sleeve , the wrist was too tight . I could see him getting mad . I remember trying to spread the sleeve out with the fingers of my right hand while still holding my book flat with my left arm . I was worried that we would get caught , worried that I would get called on and not know where we were , worried that I would get in trouble . He could only get his arm part way up my sleeve . He was getting mad . I was scared and confused - I couldn 't understand why we weren 't just reading . I remember thinking that since he couldn 't get his arm up my sleeve he would just let it go , but he didn 't . I don 't know if he went under my shirt or down my pants , but I do remember thinking that instead of getting a break , it was way worse . After that , I stopped wearing long sleeves . At least that way I got to choose how he abused me . Lori had me visualize specific instances of trauma that I can remember , and then describe not only the picture I see , but the feelings and thoughts associated with those traumas . This was , without a doubt , the hardest session I have had so far . I didn 't want to write about it because I didn 't want to face what I remember , but I know that I will only get out of this what I put into it , so here goes . A low wooden desk , plastic and metal chairs around it . I 'm looking down at my lap . I can see my bright pink sweatpants with the white cord and the desk is covering part of my knees . I was wearing sweatpants because I had learned that he couldn 't get his hand under the elastic , so he would stay out of my pants . I can feel his hand on my right arm , going up the sleeve of my t - shirt . I feel alone , trapped , isolated . No one can help me . I feel dirty and guilty . Ashamed . I know I am surrounded by people , but I know - without a doubt - that I am completely alone . I walk into a classroom . I see the kids across the room and am looking forward to talking to them . I see them look up , see me , and then pointedly look away . It happens over and over . I don 't know what 's wrong . I think there must be some mistake . Some misunderstanding . I see sneers and haughty looks . I hear that they believe him , not me . I think this can 't be real . It can 't be real . I feel alone , betrayed , shunned , rejected . I want to cry but don 't want to give them another reason to hate me . Eating lunch in the cafeteria . The green tables with the little round stools . One blonde little girl , Rachel , is showing her friends a game . She used to be my best friend , now she leads the other kids in teasing me . But then she turns to me and wants to show me the game . Is it over ? Are they taking me back ? Finally , finally , are things back to normal ? She has a little pat of butter in her hand , the kind that comes between two pieces of paper . She sprinkled salt on it while telling me some story about a crocodile and saying how the salt on the butter feels exactly like crocodile skin . She holds it out to me to touch . I 'm wary and hesitant , still not sure if things are truly back to normal . I reach out my hand to feel the ' crocodile ' , like the other little girl , Jessie , did just a minute ago , and she smears the butter all over my hand and arm . The girls laugh and tears burn in my eyes . I 'm humiliated and betrayed . I don 't understand why . I lag behind the kids in the lunch line so they won 't tease me as much . I get my lunch very last and only have a few minutes to eat my hotdog before we go out to recess . It 's a really hot day and when we line up to go inside I end up leaning against the wall and throwing up my hotdog , which was still in chunks because I had to eat so quickly . The entire playground can see and they all start making fun of me and calling me gross and disgusting . I feel humiliated as well as sick and start to cry . Fifth grade , our classroom is crammed with thirty desks . His is just a few over from mine , and that makes me extremely nervous . The lunch sign - up list is being passed around , and we are supposed to circle which option we want , but he won 't hand it to me . He keeps saying I should just tell him what I want and he will mark it for me . I don 't know what to do . I don 't trust him . I don 't know whether to get the teacher , or just tell him what I want . I have this feeling he is going to play a trick on me and I wonder if I should tell him the meal I don 't want in the hopes that he marks down the other meal . I finally end up telling him the meal I want and he makes a big deal of marking the paper before passing it on . When I get to lunch I find out that he did indeed mark the meal I didn 't ask for , and it was something I didn 't like . I sit by myself and pick at my food trying not to cry . It 's fifth grade and I 'm looking through my desk trying to find something . My teacher is yelling , telling me to hurry up , and I 'm getting nervous . I can 't find it , and the whole class is watching and tittering behind their hands . The teacher keeps saying things like " hurry up " and " you 're holding up the whole class " . I finally realize that I 'm not going to find it and my eyes fill with tears . My teacher sees this and in front of the whole class says " Oh great , and now you 're going to be a cry baby about it . " Everyone laughs . I feel humiliated , weak , alone . I can 't stop the tears , but I hate them . Junior high on a bus . Sitting near the back , trying to ignore the kids around me . They 're bouncing in their seats trying to make the whole bus bounce . One boy , DJ , who is always mean to me is trying to get me to bounce too , because I am the only one not bouncing . I don 't want to , thinking it will be just another excuse for the kids to make fun of my weight . He keeps saying that he wants everyone to do it and I finally give in and bounce a little . As soon as I do , he does this exaggerated fall and says " Woah , I really felt it when Laura did it ! She made the whole bus move by herself ! " I felt stupid for trusting him , for thinking he was being sincere , that he wanted me to be a part of their game . I 'm humiliated , self - conscious , and embarrassed . Right after losing Jamie , I talked to ( and yelled at ) God a lot about why He took our baby from us . I knew he had a reason , but for the life of me I didn 't understand , and I didn 't agree . Every one I spoke to about this said the same thing , that ' someday ' we would understand . But I felt so betrayed by God . How could He do this to us ? What possible reason could He have for taking away our child ? Were we being punished ? Had we done something to deserve this pain ? For months on end we talked and prayed , questioned and cried . Every time a person said ' someday ' it felt as though a bitter knife was driven a little deeper into my heart . I blamed myself for being a bad mother , I blamed God for being unfair . I hated myself and I especially hated every pregnant woman I saw . And I still miss Jamie . I would still give anything to hold Jamie in my arms , to kiss that little face . I still wish that things had turned out differently . But I think we 've reached ' someday ' . When Rob and I went through our rough patch in August , we had a lot of heart to hearts , and one of the things we talked about most was Jamie . We both agreed that we never really processed losing Jamie , or accepted that loss . We both just tried to push past it , to tell ourselves that if " this " happens , then the pain will stop . We talked about how much we missed our baby , and how losing Jamie broke our hearts . We talked about how not mourning together ripped us apart and in many ways broke us . And , hardest of all , we talked - honestly - about what could have happened if we hadn 't lost Jamie . It 's easy to tell myself that life would have been perfect , but the truth is that 's probably not real . I had a really hard time being pregnant . I felt like I wasn 't in control of my own body . All of a sudden there were so many things I couldn 't do , food I couldn 't eat . I was feeling things I had never experienced and couldn 't stop and couldn 't take medicine for . Feeling out of control is a huge trigger for my PTSD , and so many things about being pregnant were making me feel out of control . When I started bleeding at 9 weeks , I was put on partial bed rest and told not to lift anything . Rob , being the sweet and loving man that he is , did everything he could to take care of me , even carrying my purse , but to me it felt like all of a sudden I had lost my power . Now instead of having a few restrictions , I wasn 't allowed to do anything . I was frustrated and even resentful that I was having to go through this , all I wanted was to be pregnant , but be able to live my life normally . When we had our honesty talk , we realized that those feelings wouldn 't have just gone away . In fact , there is a very real possibility that they would have gotten worse . That could have , in turn , caused issues with the pregnancy and delivery . It would have The scariest thing we talked about was postpartum depression . I was told by my therapist that I was at very high risk for postpartum depression due not only to my PTSD , but also to the fact that I have depression . What if I had abandoned Rob and the baby ? What if I had started cutting , or even killed myself ? What if I had hurt the baby ? I know I could never have forgiven myself . That would have destroyed me . In all honesty , I probably would have killed myself once I realized what I had done . That would have destroyed not only me , but Rob , and our relationship . Rob recently told me that even when I was pregnant , the thought of me with postpartum being home alone with the baby terrified him . Even then , something inside him was afraid . I will never be glad that we lost Jamie . I will never stop missing or stop loving Jamie . Jamie is our miracle baby , and I am so thankful for the time we got to spend together . We believe that God took Jamie home so soon because He wanted Jamie to be a light in our life . A reminder of our love and happiness . He took Jamie so that we were broken now instead of destroyed later . I start EMDR therapy in 3 days , and I am getting really scared . I know that in the end it is the best thing to do , but reliving all of this is going to be awful , and I 'm scared . I 'm trying to be brave , but every time I remember what I am getting ready to face , I feel like I am six years old again . Rob and I talked and he held me while I cried . He told me how proud he is of me and that he is here for me . And I feel a little better . Someone commented on my post from the other day and told me a little bit about what they went through that led them to EMDR therapy , and I realized that I have never really shared my story with you , the reader . So here it is . I don 't remember everything that happened . I don 't know if it went on for days or months , or what time of year it was . This is what I do remember : I started 1st grade in 1993 at Butlerville Elementary and my teacher was Mrs . Beel . She was pregnant , so most of the year - at least it seemed like most of the year to a six year old - we had substitute teachers . My class was small , maybe fifteen of us , and between church and kindergarten I knew almost everyone . I don 't know if I knew Matt from before or if I met him in first grade . Back then I was the popular girl . I was a gymnast - had been since I was 2 years old - and was very outgoing , athletic , and pretty . I was a happy little kid . When I was in kindergarten I had a ' boyfriend ' named Nathan , and at our school 's skating night at the local roller rink he won a bracelet for me . It was made of three little gold hearts joined together and I loved that bracelet more than anything . I was so smitten with the idea of being someone 's girlfriend , and to me , that bracelet was a symbol to the world that I belonged to someone . That someone loved me . It just seemed like the thing to do , so we started dating . He held my hand . He bought me a gold necklace with a little red heart that I wore every day . He was my man . I remember sitting in class and he would pretend to shoot all the other kids so we could be alone . I wanted so badly to be grown up . I was fascinated by this popularity I was experiencing and wanted to live in that world forever . I went to gymnastics , played with my friends , and was Matt 's girlfriend . I thought I had the world . I remember being so unbelievably happy . It started slowly . He would sit next to me at the little table in class when our teacher would read us stories and we would do our work . He used to put his hand on my thigh , and to be honest I liked it . It made me feel special . Over time , his hand crept higher . It went up my leg , under my shorts , and inside my panties . It felt nice . I felt shivery and special . This was something new for me . Eventually his hands ended up inside my shirt too . He would have me lean forward and put his hand through the sleeve of my t - shirt in order to touch and rub my chest . There were days when I got tired of him touching me ; I wanted to learn but what he was doing was distracting . I remember one time I wouldn 't lean forward so he could put his hand in my shirt and he got really mad at me . He told me that this is what boyfriends and girlfriends do . He told me I had to let him . And I did . I don 't know how long it went on , but I do remember that I started trying to avoid him . Him touching me started making me nervous , and him getting mad and telling me that I had to let him scared me . I started trying to sit across the table from him instead of right next to him . But all my friends said we looked so cute together and I always ended up right next to him . Right where I didn 't want to be . I remember being scared . There is a home movie of me in my leotard and tights showing off for the camera how I could take my tights off without removing my leotard . In the background you can hear my dad saying how he should show this video to Matt . To this day I can hear the fear in my voice when I tell my dad no . I was six years old and I was fighting a battle no one should have to face . I was trying so hard to be the perfect , popular girlfriend and yet my every instinct was telling me to run . Like I said , I don 't know how long this went on . I have all these memories but it isn 't one coherent memory , more like flashes . I do know that I started getting mad at him for getting mad at me all the time . It seemed like no matter what I did , or let him do , it was never enough . So I started doing things to purposefully annoy him , hoping that he wouldn 't want to spend time with me . I remember one night my dad and I were at the elementary school after hours for a parent teacher conference and he was there too with one of his friends . He was listening to a Walk - Man and had his headphones on so when I said something to him he couldn 't hear me . I reached over and pulled the headphone away from his ear , repeated what I had said , and let the headphone snap back in place . The next day at school he told me that I had broken his headphones and I now owed him fifty dollars . When I got home I told my dad what he said to me , crying because I knew I didn 't have the money and because I was so frustrated . I don 't remember how the whole thing got settled , but we never replaced his headphones . After that we just kind of fizzled out . It was a year or two later that I finally realized what had happened . One morning I crawled crying into my mom 's bed and told her what had happened . She asked me some questions and then called the school . I don 't know what she said , but I don 't think I went to school that day . I later found out that he had been forced to go to a day - long therapy appointment . We weren 't in the same class together , but when I walked into my classroom the next day , everything had changed . There was this feeling of hostility and anger focused on me that I didn 't understand . It turned out that he had told everyone what I had said and that I was lying to try and get back at him for breaking up with me in first grade . They all chose him . Every single one of my friends thought I was a liar and from that day on they had nothing to do with me . Only one girl , Brittany , stayed by my side . She didn 't stand up for me , but she didn 't ostracize me . To this day , she is the only person from that class that I still speak to . In one day I lost all of my friends . Everyone hated me . I truly believed I was wrong to have said something . So I didn 't say anything else . I learned to be okay being alone . School became torturous for me . I didn 't have any friends and I had gone from being the most popular kid in class to being an outcast freak . I started to turn inside myself . I thought that if I didn 't look like I used to then no one would ever do that to me again . I thought that if I made myself invisible then no one would notice me . I thought I needed to change because I had brought that on myself . So I changed . I became quieter , I kept eating , and I tried to quit caring . I went to school where I said nothing , and I came home where I sat in front of the T . V . and ate cereal from the box . I started gaining weight . I no longer had a gymnast 's body and I was okay with it . I started trying to hide inside myself . I suppose that as a kid I couldn 't handle what had happened , so I tried to cope as best as I could . And so I ate . I remember coming home from school and instead of playing with the dogs or going outside I would sit in front of the tv for hours . Just sit there and eat . Cereal mostly . There would be times when I would sit down with a brand new box of Cheerios and when I got up it would be empty . I hadn 't even realized I was eating . All I knew was that I was safe . I could hide in the show , in the reality that wasn 't my own , and for a few hours I would feel safe . But in my little bubble something would always break through - my mom telling me to stop eating , my dad trying to get me to go outside , or even my sister just wanting to change the channel . And every time that happened I lost the tiny piece of safety I had clung to . It was like being abruptly woken up . Almost like I was in a deep sleep and someone shook me awake , back to the reality I was trying so hard to escape . But I could never escape . I never stopped trying . I kept eating , kept gaining weight . I thought that if I didn 't look like I did , didn 't look like a girl , then no one would ever do that to me again . I thought something about myself had made me be a target , that I had somehow brought the situation on myself . And so I just kept eating . Food became my one safe thing in the world . My entire world had been taken from me , and food was the one thing I had control over was my food . Eating made me happy . Well , not happy , but I actually felt something when I ate . The rest of the time there was nothing . It was almost like I felt this void inside of me and I thought that if I ate enough then I could fill that void . That I would get better . But I didn 't . Now , instead of being invisible , I was a target . Kids at school who had been my friends only a few years ago now teased me . I was the proverbial fat kid . That became who I was . I wasn 't Laura . I was Fat . And to a certain extent I was glad for the change . I could hide behind that label , hide within my own skin . I sort of felt safe . If they started treating me as Fat , could I become Invisible ? And I tried . I started dressing very androgynously and I cut my hair short . I remember there were days I wouldn 't brush my hair and would purposefully wear loose clothing so I could hide behind this new front I was making . I got very good at hiding . With the added weight and the change in my appearance I morphed further into an almost faceless kid . I wasn 't invisible , but I was unrecognizable . By the time fifth grade rolled around it was nearly impossible to tell that I was a girl . I remember walking into the women 's bathroom at the local library right as a little girl and her mom walked out . As I passed them , the little girl said to her mom " Mommy , is that a boy or a girl ? " I felt proud . I had done it . I had successfully hidden inside my own skin . I wasn 't happy , but I felt safe . After I told my mom what had happened I was never placed in the same class as him again . At least , not until fifth grade . My elementary school was very small but the number of students had started to grow . When I was in fifth grade we no longer had enough room to divide each grade into two classes . My fifth grade class consisted of thirty students : all of the fifth graders , including him . I managed to make it most of the year unscathed . There were a few times he managed to torture me , but overall he wasn 't a big problem . My teacher , on the other hand , was and so my parents ended up switching me to Morrow Elementary to get away from him . Morrow was another elementary school in the district , but at that school I didn 't know anyone . My teacher was amazing . He was kind and understanding of the scared fat girl and I started feeling at home in his class . I made friends and actually had a good year . Sixth grade started and I stayed at Morrow Elementary . I was so excited to be with my new friends and enjoy my year . For the first time since second grade , I was happy to go back to school . But the school year brought about some changes that I hadn 't expected . I no longer had my kind Mr . Perkins for a teacher . Ms . Hill was my teacher for sixth grade and she was as far from Mr . Perkins as one could get . She unbelievably strict , condescending , and unkind toward us as a teacher could be without getting fired . I starting getting quiet again and there became fewer and fewer times I was happy at school . Looking back now I most likely over reacted to the situation , but I was gun - shy and just wanted to protect myself . My favorite time of the week was when I got to leave Ms . Hill 's class room for a day and take a bus with some other kids to Maineville Elementary ( the third elementary school in the district ) . That one day a week was reserved for the academically talented program ( ATP ) . We got to learn algebra , do projects , and learn things just for the fun of it . Unfortunately , the kids from Butlerville Elementary were there too . Seeing them once a week wasn 't nearly as bad as being around them all the time , so I still loved ATP with Mrs . Cusick . In junior high all of the elementary schools came together into one big school . Having students from all three schools thrown together was chaotic , but the Butlerville students were diluted enough that it wasn 't too big of a problem . Don 't get me wrong , junior high sucked for the quiet nerdy fat girl , but it was the normal level of sucking , and I did make some amazing friends . High school was more of the same , but I started coming into my own . I joined the marching band and got closer to my friends . I was happy again and I finally stopped gaining weight . The entire time I only had one class with him . The last day of high school came and I was over the moon . I had been accepted to my dream school and I was finally leaving this place that had been so hard for me to get through . All of the seniors were gathered in the auditorium and we were told to split into groups according to what elementary school we went to . Well , I went to two of them , so the teacher told me to sit with the one that I had gone to the longest . That meant Butlerville , and so I warily sat with all the people I so desperately wanted to leave behind . When I came over to the group and sat down in the back , several classmates turned to me started saying how I shouldn 't sit with them because I had abandoned Butlerville and I wasn 't a true Butlerville student like they were . I was amazed and so hurt . Post was not sent - check your email addresses ! Email check failed , please try again Sorry , your blog cannot share posts by email . % d bloggers like this :