How does one get over something that permeates every living cell in your body. Though often not conciously thinking about it, your mind is forever worrying over it like a tongue fondling a painful tooth, seemingly without thought. You know it will hurt to touch it, yet you can't seem to help remembering, reliving... I'm speaking of course of physical/emotional/sexual abuse of a child. I've often wanted to open a discourse on the subject, having gone through the experience, but could never find the proper venue in which to talk about it. A place where I could openly reveal the tortures of the existence of a person who daily goes through self doubt, who at times hates the very life they are leading. I think that I have found this venue here. I've been going over these blogs for the past few weeks and have found the readers and authors to be (though at times strange and silly) a caring and understanding audience who seem to have valid and sometimes helpful suggestions on issues far and wide. So here's my contribution today to Soul Cast: My first thoughts of suicide began at the tender age of 13. I was a confused and extremely unhappy person that year for two reasons. The first being that my mother was terminally ill, and I became responsible for my younger brother and sister, the second; the commencement of abuse by the one person that I looked up to and adored beyond all others in my life. I felt in many ways responsible and to blame for the things that were occurring in my life. Like somehow I was doing something to encourage these nightly terrors. Like maybe I was evil, and this was the way that God was punishing me for the bad things I had done. I started to go to church and pray for forgiveness, I begged, pleaded and tried to blackmail God into helping me out of this precarious situation. I received no response, and was left wanting, needing, hoping and despairing of what was to become of me. The abuse went on for a period of three years, when I was lucky (and determined) enough to graduate high school at an early age (16) and leave home for college. I left home then, and never wanted to look back, except for my brother, sister and mother, who had miraculously recovered a terminal illness (I thought that maybe God had considered and granted my wishes in this). I don't want to bore you with the details of the abuse, but simply leave it at the fact that it was horrendous and defiling and absolutely repulsive. What I need to know is; how does one get over it? I'm 39 years old now, and still can't seem to come to terms with it. I've had limited counseling over the years, but nothing seemed to fit. I know that there are people who have undergone similar occurrences and seem to be able to live full and productive lives, but I am not so fortunate, as I seem to be mired by deficiencies. Is there any hope?