The memories never leave.  Yes, they fade--the visual images blur, go together and become faded where they were once vivid.  But if I keep my eyes always occupied, I'm ok.  The sense of touch comes back from time to time, but if I studiously avoid all contact, I'm ok.   The oddest part is smell--I hate certain laundry detergent to this day.  But if I only buy a certain brand, I'm ok.  But the emotions, the feelings, my subconcious are there all too vivid.  There to stay, when I can only hope that one day they will leave forever.

It's something akin to being in prision and let out from jail where you've been ordered to do certain things, eat a certain way, go certain places at certain times and be certain places at certain times.  When your comings and goings have been monitered and so has your diet and sleep.  What you look like has been commented on and it's been made clear to you that you are nothing more than someone's charge and that you're incapable of taking care of yourself.  That is the worst.  Though it is not as traumatic or horrible as an actual prision and locational confinment, it is just as traumatic to the soul.  These things are awful because it is one of the ways he controled me.  At first masked by kindness and concern and in the end merely a way to control when he wanted me and when he didn't.

So when anyone suggests to alter or do anything with any of those things in my life I freak, become closed, become in a shell again.  It's irrational, but of course I know that.  But in order to get back to rational one msut go through the semi-irrational dream state.  Because that's when you're just coping to survive.

I now shudder at human touch.  I wonder why it took so long for that to set in, but it finally did.  I honestly thought I had escaped that horrid affect of sexual abuse.  At the same time you desperately want comfort you run from it, afraid to trigger a panic attack or painful memories.  It's late for it to set in but I think it comes with reawakening from this dream state.  It also doesn't help that those closest to me see this as compassionate love, and I don't know how to tell them otherwise.  That touch for me is now like piercing my nerves with red hot irons.  And I don't want to hurt them.

I hope and pray that the subconcious feelings will go away.  Maybe then I can truly start over, start again, without leaving all of my old life behind.  But if it also doesn't go away, I feel find a way to make a new life for myself, merged with the old one, that enables me to move on.  Of this, I am sure.  Trusting in God, my Savior, I know I will go on, no matter how hard it is.