Tomorrow, my sister and her family will begin in-home counseling for her children and herself. She had wanted her son to get counseling long ago, but her son refused. He has not been communicating well with her, and that resulted in the county's involvement. He is a good child, in my opinnion, and I don't think she understands him well--but I think that the communication and counseling issues could have gone much more smoothly if the man that molested me had not convinced her son that her son has no mental problems (and that it is my sister who needs counseling). This man is good at manipulating, and it began a long time ago when he was much younger--and he hasn't forgotten how to do it.

As a child, you are taught not to talk to strangers, and you are certainly taught never to accept candy from strangers. But when these people approach you, it seems so ordinary, so friendly...and even friendlier when is someone you know and you trust. Someone you admire. And then he uses your weaknesses to bribe you, bribe with an intent to exploit ignorance on your part. I certainly did not know what he wanted, and even when he took it, I had no idea what it was that I was giving up.

Now, he has done the same thing to my nephew. He has convinced my nephew that my sister is crazy and that my sister, the boy's mother, needs help. The man combined this with continuously reinforcing an idea, by repeatedly telling my nephew, that my nephew does not need help and that there is no reason that my nephew needs counseling. In my mind, with nothing more solid to go by than by my instincts and my experience, I am convinced that this man knew that my nephew wants to believe he does not need counseling, and so this man bribed by nephew by giving him what he wanted--a strong male figure that assured my nephew that my nephew was not in need of counseling.

My nephew has needed help with his anger since childhood--and my sister is convinced this stems from my nephew's biological father raping my nephew as a toddler. I can't understand this kind of behavior, but that is not my concern. My nephew has had his kindergarten teachers and principal physically restraining him on several occasions--to prevent him from venting his anger through physical aggression against all those around him. Bus drivers have had the same experience. Babysitters had similar problems. And then my nephew had some counseling as a third or fourth grader-and when that particular counseling was completed, the counselor advised my sister (my nephew's mother) that it was probable my nephew would need additional counseling as a teen. As aggressive behaviors escalated, my sister scheduled the counseling--and then my molester, who believes my sister cheated him from receiving his "rightful family inheritance", began to advise my nephew that my nephew was not needing counseling and that my nephew had to understand (as my molester told him) that his mother was ill and needed to be hospitalized to receive proper medication and counseling.

It is amazing to me that he can continue to manipulate people's thoughts like this. I remember that we used to play chess, and he always won--he knew moves in advance what his opponent would do, and he could always plan and execute his plays in a way that has always irritated me. I cannot imagine other people trying to be horrible to people, but he counts on it, and he does everything he can to not only avoid his adversary's move, but he does all he can to conquer his adversary. And he irritates me. And it isn't fair.

Now, for days, my brain will default to this man's duplicity, to his manipulation, and I will hate him more each day. I used to take pride in hating actions, not the people who perform those actions. With this man, whom I used to love as a close family member, I simply do not want to be anywhere near him, and I don't want him anywhere near me or the rest of my family. But he is family, and I can't stop him.

And I just want to knock some sesne into my family's heads, but it won't happen. He probably has anticipated that, and he also figures I won't do it, because he does know me. And he is counting on me not doing anything. But my sister is smarter. She knows her son, and she's working to get him counseling. I hope someone can tell this young man that he is good, and that he needs to remember that life can be good...and he really is a very special young man. I have more faith in him than in my own son, and I think he has the potential to do good or bad...and if he follows this molester, it won't be good. I hope the counseling creates a good, positive environment that helps us all.

I cannot seem to cheer up much. When a person recognizes that they are depressed...and depressing to others...I figure that's probably a good hint that something has to change. But it's not easy to figure out what it is that has to change. And that's why I write...but I wonder whether it really does any good to write if there's no constructive action to go with it, no plan for change.

But how can you change the past? Life happens. Sh-- happens. And we go on.

And we go on to a life that produces the same negative undertones day after day, the same circumstances that make me want to lie down and wait until all the bad things go to a place that I never want to visit---a place that will leave my mind alone.

What process is out there to help me forget this past that cannot be changed? Is it possible? I sure hope so.

It is hot tonight. And I don't know what to think. But I know I do not want to think about incest. I want to think about how good it would feel to lie in a bed of ice and simply feel relief from this heat and humidity.

I think it's a good thing to not worry about things all the time. I do that a lot. And if I'm not worrying, I'm beginning to think I worry about not worrying. Silly!

I think I'm going to find something cool to drink and simply try to relax tonight. Sometimes we just need to let things be.

I watched "House" on TV tonight, and there was a very brief explanation that sometimes brains are wired wrong so that when certain nerves are stimulated, the brain can mix them up and read pain as pleasure. It can also read pleasure as pain. I've never confused pleasure for pain, or at least not as far as I know--though maybe I can tell myself that each migraine I have that bends my body backwards in pain is really a glorious pleasure. Somehow, I don't think I'll convince myself of that (though House had a pretty good cure for migraines, too, though I don't think I'll try it any time soon). But, in the reverse, I often wonder why I am fascinated by the idea of painful stimulation causing me pleasure.

It seems weird, I know, but when I get depressed, I have ideas that include needing to feel pain. Needing to feel anything, really. But pain would seem to bring me pleasure, and this is very confusing to me. I don't understand it.

At the same time, whenever I get something that should really give me pleasure--something I've worked toward, for instance, and finally got what I strived for--I am disappointed and depressed with the achievement. Again, this doesn't make sense to me.

And things that don't make sense get me irritated...because my brain can't get around an idea and make it my own. I want things to be right, to be in a certain logical order. And I find it difficult to accept when things are just not falling into this order that the world demands in all things.

So, as in other blogs, I wonder if this is something other people feel, and if not, then is it because of my natural, genetic inclinations or is it because I was sexually abused as a child and am somehow parlaying those negative emotions into some kind of demented mental aberration?

Wouldn't life be wonderful if it were full of sunshine and rainbows? With a rainbow, the sunlight shines...but the rain falls first. I think that's what I need to strive for in my life now. And, if there's a rainbow that shines through the haze, then I hope that I have only smiles and good feelings when I achieve the color that reflects off of the pain that was.

I was listening to the radio today as I traveled home from my friend's, and I heard a commercial for some place called the Midwest Center--or something like that. It caught my attention because the speaker was describing how she had once felt, symptoms of depression and anxiety, and how she had thought no one else could possibly understand the stress and anxiety she had felt at one time--and then they offer a solution that is not medication based. This sounds wonderful since I've been on and off antidepressants for things like migraines and sleep disorders--and the depression continued even with the medications. So I would love to find a way to feel better--and it made me wonder if my depressions really don't have a lot to do with the incest of earlier days, and maybe it's just more of a part of growing, of being a woman with different stressors that surround her.

Would my emotions be so roller coaster-like if the incest had not happened? Should I continue to investigate my thoughts as if the incest were the heart of it all, or at least a major invluence? Or should I, instead, be focusing on just the depression, the stressors and possible chemical imbalances that exist now?

I often think that women who were molested as children, particularly in chronic incestuous situations, those women do not highly prize their bodies. They don't regard it as a temple, not like other women. Women like this, like me, think of their bodies as something that is separte from their minds, from their souls. As a child, I could not even touch my vaginal area, not anywhere close. I didn't want it to be a part of me, a part I could touch. To this day, even with some very private and personal actions, I can't touch myself there. I don't want to do that particular action. It is repugnant to me. I still want to feel good, so I use objects and a toy, but I won't touch me with my hand. I love it when my boyfriend does, but no way can I do it to myself. As my brain tells me that's a nonsensical way of thinking, my emotions tell me that's the only way to think.

So, now, maybe all the things I don't want to think about, I try to find another way to do it--rather that going directly for it and trying to get relief from a direct request and response. I want someone else to give me satisfaction, to make me feel good--not only sexually, but in every day life. I can't seem to take control of my life. Instead, I want it all fixed for me, and I don't want to tell anyone else what to do as I try to get from point A to point B.

I don't know if the incest started this, or if the emotions and the depression are just a part of me, of the way that my brain chemicals work and the things I learned from my schizophrenic mother. But I do know that I can't go on being depressed all the time--and that I have to find a way to take control of my life and move it ahead in a way that is productive and good.

I will keep trying to figure this out. With or without the incest.