*** trigger warning ***
I wrote about the first part of the memory here . The next part of the story is truly ghastly.
The hooded figures placed my sister’s “dead” body into a large box. Both my sister and I have always remembered this box. S&L, my most sadistic abusers, gave my parents the box for us to use as a toy chest, and the box always freaked both of us out. (Now I know why.)
The box was HUGE! We could fit two chairs inside of it along with a ton of toys. It was made out of plywood, and it had a lid that was attached with hinges on the back. On the front was a latch screwed in tightly that my parents never thought to remove. They just told us not to climb into the box because, if the lid closed accidentally, we could be locked in if the latched caught.
The hooded figures placed my sister’s “dead” body into the box and then told me to climb inside with her. Obviously, since my sister is alive today, she was not “dead,” but I did not know this. I was just a little kid – younger than my son is now – and I was forced to get into a box with my dead sister that I had just been forced to kill.
The hooded figures closed the lid and latched it, leaving me in the dark. Then, they buried me alive with my dead sister.
From the adult perspective, I seriously doubt they buried us. This was a HUGE plywood box with two children inside, so it would have been heavy, and they would have had to dig a huge (and I mean HUGE) hole in order to bury it. This happened during the daytime, so they probably threw a tarp or blanket over it to make it dark inside and then scooped a few piles of dirt on it to make me think I was underground. I was an extremely traumatized little kid, so I wasn’t exactly thinking through the details.
They left me in the dark for a long time. There was no air circulation, although the plywood was not flush, so I wasn’t at risk for suffocating.
When you are enclosed in a tight place with no airflow for a while, it gets hot. You also hear every single noise – the sound of every breath and every movement. To this day, I must have some sort of background noise going – music, a white noise machine, a fan … SOMETHING!I get triggered by complete silence.
I shared a free-writing exercise I did several years ago. I think this memory is the “box” part, but I still don’t know what the “thrice” is unless it is the triple betrayal of daddy, bonfire, and box. LS = little sister. I have excerpted just the parts pertaining to the box:
*** trigger warning ***
Box. Thrice. Box. Thrice.
Box. Children in a box. Box locked up. Children suffocating. Children die. Children. Box. Box. Box.
Box dark cold scared
Fit in box children fit in box both fit in both latch lock latch lock locked in suffocating hot no air no air hot musty scared locked in box locked in box locked can’t get out with LS
Locked inside hurt scared want to die want to get away want to die die die die die die die die
Hate grownups hate all hate people hate life want to die die die die die die die
Kill me kill kill kill die die die die bang head bang head bang head stop stop stop stop stop want to die die die die die
Kill me die die die die die
Hate box hate daddy hate box hate bonfire hate hate hate hate hate
Hurt LS why hurt LS why why why why why
Why hurt LS why hurt in box why
Hurt me hurt me hurt me hurt me hurt me
Hurt hurt hurt hurt hate hate hate hate hate hate bang head bang head bang head want to die die die die die die
Kill die kill die die kill die die die die die
Why why why
Photo credit: Lynda Bernhardt
Blooming Lotus 
I dont know how you survived this Faith. How completely mind blowing! Confusing- I dont understand why people get this evil. This must be a really difficult place in life for you right now, trying to work through all of this. Know that my prayers and thoughts are with you. I cant even hardly take this in, its so wicked and horrible.
Dear Faith,
I could not read your entire post, wish I was stronger. But my heart just goes to you and to the little you and to your sister. Again…no words are sufficient…just have lots of emotions…but mostly want to give you support and care and safety.
You deserved care and comfort and safety and love…sending those now, but wishing I could wrap you in them back then.
You are brave. You are good. You are strong. You are loved.
Ruby
This is the saddest thing I ever read. I’m so sorry Faith.
You may want to put some sort of trigger warning on the poem part. Just a thought.
Peace to you Faith,
mia
Does it help you to share these memories with your sister? I am asking because I watched a show yesterday on TV in which an adult survivor of child sexual abuse strongly advocated talking with another victim as part of the healing process. It would seem to me that your sister would be invaluable to you (and vice versa) because not only was she a victim, but in many instances, she was right there with you when some of these ghastly things were happening.
Hi, Karen.
Yes, my sister and I do talk about our memories, which has been validating. I did tell her about this memory but only after making sure she was in a good enough place to talk it through. Of course, she does not remember this incident since she was unconscious.
– Faith
((((((((Faith))))))))
It’s impossible to find the right words to say here. I’ve just gone back and read your last few posts, and your free-writing exercise posts. I’m speechless with horror and overwhelming sorrow for you and your sister, and for your father as well.
I want to go back to each of those posts and put hugs and expressions of deepest sympathy for all of you there too. Some positive vibration from out in the wider world to help offset the absolute horror you’ve lived through.
My thoughts are with you, as well as my gratitude and admiration for your ability and willingness to share this with us, and your incredible inner compassion that makes you able to turn this around and not only grow toward the light instead of the darkness that was modelled for you, but to use your horrific experiences to help others.
Wishing you every kindness possible.
And I extend the same feelings to everyone else who finds themselves here with their own stories of horror, but with nowhere to go with them.
Bless you all.
Dear BF,
I really admire how you express yourself. Your writing is incredibly clear and powerful. You said exactly what I wanted to Faith, but did not have the words, or organizational skills or whatever.
Just wanted to let you know that. And also, I second what you’ve said.
Peace,
mia
Dear mia,
Wishing peace to you too. And thank you for your kind and thoughtful words.
Sending healing wishes.
Thank you all.
I added the second trigger warning, as requested.
This has been a tough week. I was in a bad place earlier in the week but never got suicidal, which is (quite frankly) surprising! I have been doing better yesterday and today but am still “off” and cry easily. I have already dealt with so many other horrific memories and am using what I have learned and applying it here. Still, it’s painful as I transition this memory into conscious awareness.
– Faith
😦
Lothlorien
Dear Faith,
No words are enough… My thoughts are with you. Light, love and hope. /B.
We feel sad for you; our inner child hurts for you; seeing someone else’s inner child hurting . . . it was a bad thing.
Strange; we just wrote a post about being buried in our own blog – not the same thing; this one was accidental.
That white noise may have been a fan – probably was, since I (as an adult) would want ventilation in the box to keep my human subjects alive. (Damn glad I can switch so fluidly nowadays; getting ‘better’ sometimes … hate that fear and stuff overwhelming me). But it’s okay. 🙂
Yeah: the silence – I know that thing well – the silence of a tomb. Sucks real bad. Gets scary as hell (hell, it IS a hell) when you’re a little frightened kid. Every little sound makes one jump. Too dark to see – you imagine things are crawling/sneaking up on you. And sometimes they are. Had to learn to sit verrryy still . . . letting them crawl all over you so as not to give away our position – an entirely different thing. If we were in any cult, it was the Military One. Big time, and for a long time, even as a kid. Been there done that. Our hearts go out to you and your little ones. (((( big safe non-scary hugs ))) – and, LOL, we’re taking some for our own.
Cults. Whut can I say. Some really sorely misguided and cruel and useless injustice and . . . hey, the list goes on. Truly the ‘gift’ that just keeps on giving. LOL. I need a warning label stamped on my head. Just says “caution: everything”. Period.
Ya’ll take care; have a nice day, etc. ad finitum. Safe hugs to those that need them; condolences all around . . .
Jeff, et all & friends
Faith,
I know I never comment on your blog but I wanted you to know that I read it often and it speaks to things that i can not give words to from my past. It changes the way I live because someone else has a voice for the very things that I myself am working to articulate.
Thank you
Bekah
[…] « My Story – Buried Alive with Sister’s “Corpse” Platitudes […]
Thank you always for sharing so openly. You give me hope for healing.
[…] to the memories I recovered last week. Before being forced to “kill” my baby sister and being buried alive with her “corpse”, I saw Santa Claus, which explains my aversion to Christmas as well as when these things were done […]
[…] to describe it. I am worn out from processing my most heinous memory yet, which I wrote about here, here, and […]
I have walked here with you my dear sister; I began remembering these horrific memories in my late 30’s, couldn’t believe that any of it could be true. Eventually I began to believe the little ones. God blessed me by confirming these memories w others who were in the same setting w same people at different times w/o me.
You are so brave to share this; so many death threats came my way.
You are NOT alone; I believe and I know.
May you find comfort on your journey, knowing that you WILL recover step by step.
I am here; I will listen and support you, my dear sister !
Blessings 🙂
I have never told my story of ritual abuse to anyone – parts perhaps, but never the whole story. I vowed not to read about ritual abuse because I wanted what I remembered to be from me, not from what I have read. Then here, in the two pieces I have read about this sad and horrible memory of yours, is my story. Right here, as if you were me. My dead person was my child – a baby. And since this original memory I have had more about the child’s birth.
I am flabbergasted and over-whelmed, but still here, not gone as was my way of coping before. No wonder I sometimes feel so alone. This is a story I would not share with family or friends, as I have not shared my details of the ongoing and sadistic sexual, physical and emotional abuse of my life.
But the impact of it and how it has affected my family lives is what I work through with them when I believe it necessary, asking forgiveness, understanding, empathy and finally acceptance of my growth in healing. It has been a ten year journey and I am sure I have many more years ahead.
It feels affirming in a way, to know your story, but mostly it feels so very, very sad. Hope your work through this is encouraging to you in your journey. Esther
I will be sixty-two in March. I have always had a memory/dream of being buried in a box and suffocating, and then watching my sister being buried in a box and the same done to her. I have the memory of musk smells and dampness, in a garden or valley. They have always terrorized me, or more I believe are the initial cause of a depression I have had since child-hood.
I still do not know that this is ritual abuse, but I have been dealing with my sexual abuse for many years; These other memories lay in the background. They are so early; perhaps pre-verbal. I was praying this morning that Christ Jesus (yes, thankfully, my faith survived all of this, and I am so great-ful), but I have been praying this morning that I remember this dream/memory and put a final label to it.
I am not sure why it is important for me to remember; it seems that so many things in my life were distorted; like why I dissociated to the point of creating an alter-family in my mind; a place to go, other people to hang out with other than those around me…
Is there a way to do the work of recovering these memories for what they are? At my age, I want more definate answers so that I can put some things away…however… To say that my family were participants in ritual abuse, would be like blaspheming the pope, since they are all ministers, and theology professors, or bishops wives, and deacons, choir members…trustees…etc., etc., etc.
I am sending so much love to all of you who have been to this place; telling you to hold on. Billye O.
[…] My Story – Buried Alive with Sister’s “Corpse” […]
honestly I dont know if i would have ever believe what my mother did to me unless i found this website and saw the signs in my own daughter….we had to live with my mother until she was 3. I am just 22 so i was very ignorant to the facts of SA and the flasbacks and dreams i was having of my own mom. I found your website just browsing “mother daughter sexual abuse” to see if it really does happen. I have moved very far from my mother since then and me and my child will *never* have any contact with her again. I will not go to her funeral when she passes. thank you for telling everyone your story you have saved my life and my daughters…you are making the blind take a second look at this type of abuse if people that were around me when i was little wouldnt have been so ignorant and “chose to look the other way” I would be normal and my daughter wouldnt have went through it too. I feel horrible I even let her around my daughter and am thankful to God everyday that I am away from her. I also wanted to tell other women who were sexually abused by their mothers DO NOT LET THEM AROUND your children EVER! they are monsters and dont think that it was just a “one time thing with you”. My daughter started peeing on herself after she was potty trained, having horrible nightmares, constantly had to chew or suck on soemthing, was *very* clingy to me. I knew what was happening when i caught my “mother”(gag) flashing her one day in the kitchen…I ran and choked her and slapped her and made plans to move that week.I knew at that moment why my mother was so controlling over me and my daughter and why i was having dreams about SA as a child. If you think you can be normal around your mother after this or have her in your life….please dont. just because she gave birth to you does not mean she is a “mother” or even a human being. get away from her and get help! dont feel guilty for cutting ties with her these women that do this are toxic.
Hi, Heather.
Thank you for your comment. Yes, I do know child abuse survivors who believe their own abusers would not hurt their children, but I agree with you — it is simply not worth the risk.
~ Faith
[…] the first three parts of this memory. Part 1 is about being buried alive, and Part 2 is about being buried alive with my sister’s “corpse.” Part 3 was about being forced to “kill” my sister, which happened immediately before being put […]