Processing My History

I feel the need to write. I'm just not sure about what. I'm slowly talking outloud to God (in the bathtub since that's the only place I can get any privacy) about my history. This must be my attempt at processing my past abuse and other things that have happened. I must admit, though I know it is really God I am talking to, since obviously no one else is in the bath with me :) I must admit that I am picturing a woman. She's not a woman I've ever met. Just a random woman I've conjured in my mind, because I still feel a deep need to involve another human in these discussions. I don't know if that's healthy or totally messed up. Of course, she rarely talks, mostly I talk. She just says comforting words every now and again, and reminds me of God's Truth about me. (I hope this post doesn't just reveal that I'm crazy and need to be locked up!:(

One of the things I have noticed is that even though I am stating some very painful things from my past, some that I've never really talked much about with anyone before, really only coming to grips with these memories here in the last few weeks and acknowledging that yes, they are real, as much as I wish they weren't. But what I've noticed is that I don't seem to feel much. Regret, yes. Shame, very much so, which is why I'm not sure I could say them outloud in front of a real, live person anyway. I'm way too ashamed of who I am. But the pain seems to have disappeared. I fear my heart has become calloused and hard in the absence of the help and support that I've needed. I know that I have many online friends I could probably email or call about these things, but for whatever reason I don't. I guess I feel that I need to have a real reason to be doing this. To be rehashing these things from my past. Some things I just enjoy talking about, like my children's birth stories, but no one's really listened to me. They've been mostly embarrassed to hear about such things. I love telling about my pregnancies and the differences between them and how with each one I somehow knew I was pregnant, sometimes even before showing any symptoms. It was weird. I just knew. I know how I knew with Angela. I woke up the next morning and ran for the bathroom, which I would continue to do for the next nine months! I think I made up for not having morning sickness with my first one, ya think! Seriously, the day before she was born, I was sick. Every single day of that pregnancy I was sick. It was awful. I never wanted to be pregnant again after that! Yuck!

Anyway, I guess maybe just sharing my life with someone, since I've not had a counselor to talk to would be good enough reason to email or call my friends and tell them these things I've been processing with God, ya think?