#MeToo brings changes to #VIGALAND Blog

Hard to believe it's been two years since my last post appeared on this #Vigaland blog. I became busy with writing books, mentoring others who wanted to write their memoirs (see my author's page at Amazon for all my books, including my latest and last on how to write your memoir, titled "Don't Write Your MEmoir without ME!")

After too many hours of staring at screens, I decided it was time for a change and just recently deleted my several websites, including my personal site. But I am keeping this blog for all those who have endured sexual abuse in their lives and careers as I know there are just too many of us. The furor that erupted and opened a can of worms with the Harvey Weinstein affair and all those celebrities coming forward, along with the #MeToo movement, reminded me that this blog was important and needed to be kept alive.

Until now, it had been aimed only at victims of incest, but now #Vigaland is evolving into a much more general site on sexual abuse in all its forms. I sincerely hope you will continue to follow this blog and share the URL with others as I have lots to share with you that was previously only posted on my personal website, now deleted.

Future posts on here will include a series of true stories by others who found the courage to share their #MeToo heartaches with me and which I published and podcast early in 2018. I know you will find these interesting and I am hopeful some of you will leave comments or even share your stories with me on this blog.

I also intend to bring you my reviews of MEMOIRS of ABUSE that I've read & reviewed over the past 5 years. If you like to read books by others who have shared similar experiences to yours, I think you'll want this information.

So, that's where I'm at right now. Stay tuned and keep following. Lots to come over 2018. Thanks for staying with me.

Best

Viga Boland, author of NO TEARS FOR MY FATHER, a true memoir of incest.

THANK YOU FOR THE NIGHTMARES DADDY #incest #child sexual abuse

"To sleep, perchance to dream" wrote Shakespeare. Yes, that's what we all want to do: sleep peacefully, letting our subconscious sort out the experiences of the day so we can wake up refreshed and ready to take on a new day.

That's all good when all is good. Dreams are nice. But once you've become a victim of abuse, sexual or otherwise, sweet dreams and refreshing sleep elude us. For many of us dreams become nightmares. We toss, turn, fight demons and sometimes wake up screaming as we try to fight off the abuser or the uncomfortable feelings and thoughts we develop about ourselves ie.. the blame, the shame, the feelings of being dirty, soiled, unworthy, rotten ... an endless list of BAD.

As I write my book, COMING OUT FROM UNDER, beneath the memories I'm finding buried in my psyche, lie the nightmares, almost forgotten now, but not quite. These nightmares puzzle me. A dream expert could have some fun (?) with mine. I think I figured out their meaning long ago, and once I got away from my abuser, my father, these nightmares stopped. In my nightmares, I don't scream. I'm not terrified. But in one, I am filled with tension, worry. In the other, I am filled with revulsion and disgust but utterly confused. Without giving away the full details of these 2 nightmares which recurred for the entire 11 years I was being abused, and even for a short time after, let me try to precis my nightmares:

In the first, I am under a house which is built on brick supports, typical of Australian homes back in the 50's. (No basements there). It is dark but some weak light streaks through the spaces between those foundation pillars. I am digging in the dirt for something but I don't know what I expect to find. But what I feel is tension, great fear of finding something or someone that I have buried there. I cannot think what I've done wrong but I know it's something bad. And the bad is buried under that house. There's another shadowy figure down under the house with me. It is my father. He is digging too. He tells me that when I find it, I must not tell anyone, ever! Just cover it back up with the dirt. I am afraid that what I will find is a dead body. And I'm afraid that if I do, I will be charged with murder and spend the rest of my life in prison. But my father will walk free.

Care to interpret? I have.

In my other nightmare, always the same, I'm desperate to go to the toilet. I rush to the toilet, a small dark one like you find in those portable toilets, and relieve myself.  But when I reach for the paper, I can't find any that is clean. The toilet roll is soiled with excrement! I try to unroll it to find a clean piece and I get the excrement all over my hands. I cannot clean my hands or myself. I wake from this nightmare in panic. I can't stand this filth all over me ... and I can't wipe it off either!

I think the meaning of that one is probably quite clear. Does anyone else have nightmares similar to those I had? What were yours like? When did they stop? Or do they still surface even now, years after the abuse has stopped.

There is one dream I do remember having very often but this was a good dream. Sadly it never came true, well not quite the way it did in my dream. I am in a schoolyard or some crowded situation. There are people of all ages and sizes. They are coming after me but I don't know why. Suddenly, I stiffen on the spot, my legs together, almost glued, rigid. My arms hang tensely by my sides. I take a deep breath, stiffen my legs and arms again, and Houston ... we have lift-off! Just as the people reach for me, I soar high into the air and float above them. They are shouting but I am laughing. I'm flying. They can't get to me. I'm so happy as I zip over rooftops and see the people getting smaller and smaller the higher I go. It's such a wonderful dream. I laugh with happiness and freedom. I'm finally away from everything and everyone who causes me pain. The only nightmare in this dream is waking up to find it wasn't real, that I was only dreaming.

Bob Hope used to close his show for years with the classic "Thanks for the Memories". Those of us who have been, and are, victims of any kind of abuse, but especially child sexual abuse and incest would more likely sing "Thanks for the nightmares"

Can you relate? Your thoughts? Your nightmares? Want to share your story in private? Ask to join our Facebook group at SPEAK OUT FROM UNDER. We listen.

GIVING THANKS at THANKSGIVING

This weekend, we celebrate THANKSGIVING DAY in Canada on Monday, Oct. 8th. Because this day is about being thankful, my post today is short, its message positive. Yes, bad things happened to me over the younger years, but since I left home, life hasn't just been good: it's been great! Getting away, meeting my wonderful husband of over 40 years now, enjoying my beautiful daughters and grand-daughter ... well I have so much to be positive about and thankful for.  I may be aging and my health is failing, but I'm still here, alive and well enough to tell my story and hopefully inspire and encourage others to do the same.

And this past month or so, since starting my book, this blog, my Facebook page OUT FROM UNDER, and more recently, my Facebook group, SPEAK OUT FROM UNDER, my life has just become even more fulfilling and fulfilled as I meet other brave men and women like myself, eager to share their stories, to help and comfort each other, and encouraging each other get out from under the hell they've been living in. To them, the members of my page and my group, my subscribers and the followers of this blog, and the writers whose books about abuse that I am reading, I say THANK YOU. Thank you for coming with me on this journey. We come from all walks of life and different parts of the world, but we share similar stories and understand each other best because our experiences though different, are in so many ways, the same. Thank you all for helping me continue to COME OUT FROM UNDER. My little poem comes from my heart and is dedicated to you all.

We live in different worlds 

Our paths are not the same

But together we  have trudged along 

Roads we've paved with shame

We see each other in words

Each face is like our own

Bright smiles that hide the tears

That each of us has known

Like freshly fallen snow

Hides potholes hidden below 

We trip and sometimes fall but

Then pick ourselves up and go

Our battle has been tough

The journey has been long

But when we hold each other's hands

We make each other strong

The more we share our stories

The easier it is to tell

Come out from under with us

And let's close the gates on hell

©  Viga Boland 2012

WHEN YOU FIND THE COURAGE TO SPEAK UP ABOUT ABUSE, IT'S AMAZING WHAT HAPPENS!

To those of you who have kindly subscribed to this blog .. then wondered where I am ... I'm here and feeling awesome! I feel awesome because this is probably the best thing I've ever done for myself: speaking out about my own sexual abuse and in the process, discovering so many wonderful women (and men!) whose stories are similar to mine and who, like me, are trying to turn something so negative into a big positive. And they are succeeding!

Over the past week, I've discovered Patricia Singleton, whose blog posts, like this one about learning to love yourself after abuse, offer comfort and inspiration. Patricia should know: like so many of us, she too has suffered at the hands of a sexual abuser. Then there's Lynn Tolson, whose books are helping so many others as she speaks out about her own abuse. I could go on listing one after another: I had no idea that many people are blogging about their abuse. You'll find links to some of these in my BLOGROLL on the right-hand side. I can't stress enough how important and helpful it is to read the posts by these victim/survivors. You might say you don't want to hear or read more: it brings up too many bad memories. To that, I can only offer the little poem I penned this afternoon while thinking about this very thing. You'll find it at the end of this blog.

It's also gratifying to see the membership on my Facebook page, OUT FROM UNDER, growing daily as I share relevant graphics posted by others or designed by myself. Folks love sharing these. Those who need them are comforted by them. Others are forced to think about them and face their own reality, painful as it might be. This IS necessary if we are to heal.

And best of all for me is that this voyage of self-discovery and disccovery of others has got my writing mind into gear after years of silence. So many times I've wanted to write, but I'm not a fiction writer. I can only write what I truly know ... and my own story is what I know best. Now that I've begun, I don't want to stop. I have other things that must be done but I'm finally making room and time for myself. Do you know how good that feels? I cannot encourage those of you who visit this page, my facebook page or simply lurk trying to get up the courage to tell your story, to just go and do it! It's truly amazing how good it can feel when you finally come out from under!

It's too easy when you're obsessed with a subject like incest, especially your own, to spend too much time on the negatives and to convey too many negative messages to your readers. I don't want to do that with every one of my blog posts, as much as I want to share my story with you. That you can read when I finally finish writing that book. So in the meantime, let me leave you now with that little poem I mentioned. Please share it, and this blog, with others whom you feel need to hear its message. And thanks for reading today's post.

COME OUT FROM UNDER

Yes, you must face the pain

But reliving it again and again

Wallowing in despair gets you nowhere

except further under

You know you want to tell

You've tried to for many years

You start to speak, then shut your mouth

And your face dissolves in tears 

of fear and self-loathing

But this has to stop!

The abuser should feel the shame

The abuser should wear the guilt

The abuser is to blame 

for what you feel

Reach out to those who care

Love yourself that much! 

Let their open arms embrace you 

And heal you with their touch

COME OUT FROM UNDER

                      

                           ©Viga Boland 2012