Parts of Me

It has been four and a half years since I first became conscious of my abuse, and I still grapple with disbelief. I resolved to start this blog two days ago, but have been unable to do any work on it since then. I've logged on a couple of times, but the secret-keeper inside of me screams out for me to stop--stop writing, stop talking, stop telling all these lies, stop complaining when someone re-victimizes me.

That's the Abused part of me talking. She was threatened into silence and kept herself in disbelief so that she could survive. It's too difficult for a child to concieve of enormous evils in the world, so she blamed herself for the fact that she was being hurt and abused. Her Abuser told her that people like to be touched that way, and there was something wrong with her if she didn't like it. Her family told her that they Loved him and that he Loved her, so she learned to Love him despite the pain and humiliation and rape.

She learned to Hate herself and considered herself stupid because she felt so bad. I can hear her sometimes, still voicing those ideas. I'm Stupid, I hate myself, I want to hurt, I want to die. The thoughts seem to come out of nowhere. They come when I'm otherwise happy and making good choices for myself. I have to somehow teach that little girl who still lives in me that she's loveable and safe. I think. But on the other hand, I think perhaps she is just as evil as her Abuser was, and wish she would somehow disappear....

I'm beginning to wonder how many Parts of me there are, functioning (or failing to) simlutaneously. Would it behoove me to consider them all separate entities with their own opinions? Names even? Or do I just go on pretending to be a unified whole?