I don’t know what I’ve been thinking all this time; but it hit today as I was drying off from my shower. I am a stranger in my own life. Since I got away from “the farm”, I have not felt comfortable anywhere; not least of all my own skin. I am the odd man out wherever I go. My mind disallows me to fit in anywhere. I am not comfortable with who I am and I don’t know if I ever will be. I realize that I was already an anxiety ridden person when things began at the farm. The years there took took an impressionable young woman who had a trusting nature and turned her into a cynical person who finds it difficult to trust anyone. I truly loved my life before the farm. Did I have issues then? Of course I did; but I believe with all my heart that they were manageable issues. After years of seeking help for this disaster of a life, I have come to think that there is no help for me. Every now and then I talk with one of the survivors of the farm and they truly are the only ones who get it. Who know that they didn’t just abuse us, they re-wired us. The constant torment over many years with seclusion from the world can do quite a bit of harm to someone. I used to be so sure of what I believed. Now….I’m confused. I have a deep fear in me that doesn’t allow me to believe like I used to. My mind equates believing with pain because of the things done to me. I know logically that that sentiment is not true; but getting that to play out in my life I have found to be impossible. Completely impossible.