Been a couple weeks since my last entry. Last month, I said I was going to start becoming more active with writing about my trauma and other personal stuff here. But since I had typed up those three long entries only for something to come along and erase all I wrote, I suppose I’ve been feeling a bit burned out from writing, even with putting my entries to a draft off of this site that I could save. At the same time, I do miss writing here. This place has become something of a personal diary for me to vent my thoughts and I do have more I’d like to share. Especially with what I was going to post here before it all got erased. I’m going to try giving writing here more another shot. Especially since next month, it’ll be a whole year since I first joined this site and made my story public. That’s a hallmark I won’t want to miss and I would like to have more entries preceding it. Let’s see if I’m able to commit to that.

This time, my phone ran out of battery as I was typing an entry here. Which, of course, didn't save anything I typed. So much for pledging to add more entries this month. I'll just save my lengthier entries in a draft on my phone or email or something next time, so then I can just copy and paste it all. That way, I can spare myself further frustration of having this happen again. There ought to be less typos and word skips from me typing too fast when I do it that way too.

One year ago today, my dad was killed in a car wreck. His death being the catalyst that led to all of the repressed memories of him molesting resurfacing, thus marking the beginning of my journey to addressing and overcoming my trauma. Like I've said, I still feel nothing for him. Not happy or sad he's gone. I've lost friends and relatives whose death has impacted me, so it's not like I can't grief or anything. But for my dad, I feel absolutely nothing. I'm not going to get graphic with anything, but I'll still be talking about how my trauma came back to me, so I added a trigger warning just to be safe.

I still remember when I learned the news of his passing. I was told by my mom who called me to tell me what had happened. I was surprised to learn that, so there was that much. While it did linger in my mind for a while, it didn't make me sad or anything. At most, I would think something along the lines of "I can't believe he's gone now." When I attended his memorial service, I had many relatives offering me their condolences. Some who knew him well wept for him, but even seeing them grieving didn't make me sad. I think many assumed I was in shock because there were a few who were consoling me as if I was crying while offering for me to come to them should I need anything.

It was sometime after the funeral when the memories started coming back up. Even if I didn't grieve over him, I still thought about my dad often. Thinking about everything BUT him molesting me. Repressed as all those memories were, perhaps it was only a matter of time before I couldn't recall of anything else. I don't remember the first instance I recalled of him molesting me, but once I looked back on one memory, another would come creeping up shortly after. Then another and another, before it all came back to me and was constantly on my mind. It became very overwhelming. Before long, I started looking for websites where I could open up about what happened anonymously and eventually came across this site and the rest is history.

It's not exactly one year since I have started actively working to deal with my trauma, so I'll wait before I reflect on the whole actual year it's been since I have. But today is still a landmark event. I probably wouldn't be here if my dad was still around.

Twice now, I've made two lengthy posts only for this site to boot me when I click "submit", making me log back in while doing away with all I typed. It's sort of my fault though, for not checking the box so that it keeps me logged in. Frustrating, but I'm sure I'll get around to typing all that I said and posting it again.

I’ve talked about this before, but I feel I may never be able to overcome my trauma without being able to actually confront my dad. Like the only way I could ever get any closure would be if I did so. That’s not possible now that he’s dead and so, I feel this is forever going to be an unfinished section on my road to recovery. Even though I still have no idea what I would say to him once it came down to it. Though I’m not so sure if it’s me not knowing what to say or just me having so much to say, I wouldn’t know where to start. Not that there’s any point in dwelling on it, but it’s frustrating. I want to because of the reasons I just mentioned. But at the same time, why bother? Basically, I feel like I’m never going to get any proper closure and there’s just nothing I can do about that. It’s enough to make me irrational and think even more pointless things like “Why couldn’t he have just been a normal dad?” And other things to that effect. I suppose I can only hope I’ll realize someday I never needed to confront him and will be able to put it behind me. Until then, it’s all part of the trauma my dad left me with.