Writing: My Power Tool for Rebuilding After Abuse

Oct 14th, 2010 | By | Category: All Posts, Christina's Blog

Christina Enevoldsen

by Christina Enevoldsen

For years, I didn’t realize how fragmented I felt and or how disjointed my life was. When I began to see the truth of my childhood sexual abuse, my world started to crumble. My personal history and the family I thought I had was an illusion; they only existed in my mind. I constructed them from pieces and parts of stories I read or television shows I watched, but it was all fiction. I hid the reality that was too much to face and now I was glimpsing the truth.

Seeing the truth was disorienting. For a few weeks and months, I remained in limbo, somewhere between my false past and my new reality. Was the behavior that I was seeing in my parents really happening? Was I imagining it to be worse than it was? Was I misunderstanding them? Or was I finally seeing what had been there all along?

Memories surfaced that made so much sense of my entire life, but how could they be real? I alternated between grasping the truth in relief and pushing it away in fear.

One of the main ways I transitioned into my new truth was to write about it. I started a special healing journal for things related to my abuse such as nightmares, recovered memories, and flashbacks. As long as everything was trapped inside my head, there was still something unreal about it. By recording my thoughts and feelings, I validated them. There was something about seeing it on paper—documented and recorded—that helped me accept what happened.

Sometimes I’ve had to force myself to note the ugliest parts of my experiences and feelings, but journal writing keeps them contained in a small, designated space instead of freely floating around inside of me. I can access them when I want, but until then, they are tucked away.

My past was revealed in little scraps, unconnected and without context. I assembled my history by writing my story from beginning to end (as far as I knew it). I saw how one event—and the feelings and beliefs I formed from it—related to the next. I made connections about how those things shaped me and forged a new identity through those revelations. Through those layers, I internalized more truth and became more ‘put together.’

Journal writing and recording my story helped me get started ( I still journal), but letter writing is one of the primary tools I continue to use in every stage of rebuilding. I’ve written letters to my abuser, to the public, to my body, to money and others. Each time, I am surprised by the depth of emotion that I express and the truths that are revealed.

The first letter I wrote was to my father, my primary abuser. I wasn’t aware of feeling much of anything toward him. I started to write the letter from my head, but as I progressed, my heart spoke. I didn’t consider if his feelings would be hurt or how he would take it because I didn’t plan to send it. Through the words, I poured out all the hateful feelings I didn’t know I had. The more I wrote, the more rage rose up. I imagined the hatred flowing from up within me and down my arms and hands and onto the paper. After that, the paper contained a little more of my anger and pain so I didn’t have to carry it.

Another significant letter I’ve written is to the people ‘out there’. I had trouble being in public and was always on guard. I felt defensive and angry when people invaded my space. I addressed my letter to “John Q. Public.” When I wrote that letter, it was eye-opening. I thought it would merely help rid me of some anger, but through it, I realized that I believed that the whole world was against me and I took every careless move or bump personally. I was still thinking like a victim in that area and it helped me confront that lie.

I also wrote a letter to my body. I thought of my body as a necessary evil, something I tolerated. I was disconnected from it as though it wasn’t mine. I started that letter by blaming it for how it had exposed me, shamed me and betrayed me and I transitioned into seeing its innocence and vulnerability. By the time my letter was finished (I wrote it over a period of months), I felt compassion and was able to nurture it and reconnect with it.

Another letter I composed was addressed to money. Money has been related to much of the abuse I’ve experienced beginning with my dad pimping me out when he lost his job. My ex-husband also manipulated me through money by punishing me with uncontrolled spending and shutting down his successful business when I refused to comply with him. An abusive church I attended also used money to control people. They preached that if you didn’t have a lot of money, then you were a faith-failure. All of those experiences led to a lifetime of money issues. Even though I’m a very conservative spender and at times even made a lot of money, but always seemed to have lack. By writing a letter, I worked out how threatened I felt by money and I’m starting to see the reasons why. My letter started out, “Dear Money, I think it’s time we worked things out….”

I continue to write as a means to tear down the false facades and rebuild my truth. I gain clarity about my experience, thoughts and feelings. I know myself better by getting more in touch with my past and how it shaped me. I’m building a more constructive relationship with my body and my money. Writing has repaired my relationship with the world I interact with. It’s truly been a power tool in my rebuilding process.

Christina’s Letters

Related Posts:
If I Didn’t Write, I’d Have Died a Long Time Ago
Writing Is My Friend
Paper is My Safest Friend

Christina Enevoldsen is cofounder of Overcoming Sexual Abuse, an online resource for male and female abuse survivors looking for practical answers and tools for healing. Christina’s passions are writing and speaking about her own journey of healing from abuse and inspiring people toward wholeness. She and her husband live in Los Angeles and share three children and four grandchildren.

[read Christina's story here]

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32 comments
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  1. These couple of lines really strike me. It is the exact same way that I felt/feel.

    “I alternated between grasping the truth in relief and pushing it away in fear.”
    “By recording my thoughts and feelings, I validated them. There was something about seeing it on paper—documented and recorded—that helped me accept what happened.”

    When we write everything out we can disconnect from our back and forth thought process that can keep us from accepting the harsh realities of our abuse. The truth is right there in front of us in black and white. No more denying it. It’s a powerful tool alright.

  2. Jennifer,
    Yes! Even though I’ve used this writing tool for a while now, I’m still amazes every time I use it. I know there’s no magic solution to this healing process, but the power in writing seems magical to me. It’s as though the pen has some secret wisdom and I have only to access it. In reality, I know the wisdom and solutions come from within me and that my hands, eyes, mind and heart are working together to bring it forth. Thanks for commenting!
    Hugs, Christina

  3. Beautiful writing, Christina. Clear, gentle, logical and thorough. I recognized myself and my process in almost everything you wrote (though I think a letter to Money would be a good addition to my Recovery journey…LOL!). Especially about taking the fragments of thought and putting them down on paper to get them out of your head and then assemble them into solid memories. Yes, in the thick of my early Recovery days, I never left home without a journal because I never knew when something would surface that I’d need to capture and then process.

    Thank you for your heartfelt share and for raising this topic.

    Light and Love,
    Libbe.

  4. Libbe,
    Thanks for your kind words! Yes, my letter to money was the latest one. The abuse distorted ALL of my relationships and my relationship with money was no exception. That letter was probably the most disturbing of all to write, so I’m looking forward to seeing some changes in my financial life.
    Hugs to you, Christina

  5. Oh boy Christina – you said “My personal history and the family I thought I had was an illusion; they only existed in my mind. I constructed them from pieces and parts of stories I read or television shows I watched, but it was all fiction. I hid the reality that was too much to face and now I was glimpsing the truth.”

    Until I met someone else who had told me this was common – I thought I was completely nuts. I could not understand why oh why when I acted like what I saw on tv that others didn’t respond the way the tv characters responded. My “father” was the guy who played “father knows best” or John Wayne or Jimmy Stewart. Tall men like he was but they were kinder in my make believe world.

    I”d lived an isolated life so hadn’t had any other families to model after – I remember seeing other kids who looked different and had good lives. So of course I fantasized and wished to look like them, or have the nice house, the car the 2.5 children – because if I could look like or have what others had then my world would be ok – right?

    Of course it never was and I’ve since learned differently – but like you – it was the writing things out that helped me to connect to the emotions, the anger and rage that led me to grieve my losses and let go of the past that enabled me to learn to live in today instead of that make believe world.

    Love your writing style and your message.

    A lot. :) Thank you!

  6. Susan,
    My parents came from “The Dick Van Dyke Show”. I remember watching it online after I started to see the truth about them and exclaiming loudly that Rob and Laura were my parents. I really scared my husband. lol.

    I’m appreciating the creative, imaginative side that I developed as a child because it’s serving me well in my healing, too–especially through writing. Thanks for commenting!
    Hugs, Christina

  7. Christina, I can relate to so much of what you wrote. Writing, for me, was a way to recover my memories, uncover truths and to just make things REAL. I found myself writing details about my abuse that I didn’t even realize that I knew, and that helped me to realize that there was no way I could be making any of this up.

    My fictional story writing as a child also helped me survive and cope. Through it, I could be whoever or whatever I wanted to be. I could escape from the reality of my life and be a heroine instead of a victim. If I wasn’t reading or writing a story, I was imagining myself in a story. If I hadn’t been able to do that as a child, I think I would have given in to hopelessness and despair. I truly believe that being able to escape in to my imagination and imaginary worlds helped me survive the reality of abuse.

    The challenge then became the ability to channel that creativity in to an outlet for honest feeling and pain when I became older. Not, to just continue to use it as a form of escapism. Writing now is just as big a part of my healing as it was of my survival then. By putting words on paper I can express my feelings in ways I would never be able to verbally. I can release emotions…anger, fear, pain, betrayal…and through that release–I can heal.

    Thank you for sharing. Hugs, Penny

  8. Penny,
    Your statement, “The challenge then became the ability to channel that creativity in to an outlet for honest feeling and pain when I became older. Not to just continue to use it as a form of escapism. Writing now is just as big a part of my healing as it was of my survival then.” YES! It was a coping mechanism then and it served us well, but now we can direct our creativity in a way that helps us heal, not just deal. Excellent point!
    Hugs to you, my friend! Christina

  9. Oh geez Christina! I remember Dick and Laura! And I was Nancy Drew and the Hardy Boys were my brothers:) And scooby doo my dog! And as I continue to heal and I see the old tv shows and movies I see just how much of a fantasy I lived in. Sometimes that understanding can leave me laughing and other times crying – but in facing it like you describe here, is where I found healing as Penny says – the release of the emotion. I’ve heard others say that my writing sometimes has a “Pollyannaish” ring to it and I think maybe this is where some of my story telling style of writing may have had its roots as I put my emotion around an issue into an article.

  10. Christina,

    I love this. As much as I love writing, I never thought about writing to my personal self, like my body or to things that are a strong hold in my life. I’m going to start, tho. You made it so clear to me how beneficial this could be. I know how writing has changed my life and you have given me even more reasons to continue. You are so Awesome!!!

    Love Ya, Patty

  11. Susan,
    Nancy Drew was a big part of my escape when I was a kid. I just recently bought myself the second Nancy Drew book I ever read, “The Secret of the Old Clock”. I loved mysteries and all of my favorite detectives were unlikely heroes. They were teenagers or elderly ladies or someone you wouldn’t expect much from. I was inspired by them to overcome my own circumstances. I think Nancy has served me well.
    Christina

  12. Patty,
    Thanks for your encouragement! Before now, I’d never put all my letters together in one place and even seeing them as a collection told me another truth. The letters to the public, to my body and to money showed me how defensively I live. OUCH! Sometimes, the truth hurts, but I’d rather be aware of it then be in denial. Back to my healing work!
    Love and hugs, Christina

  13. Writing has always been a “means to an end” for me.
    It has provided much relief during the middle of the night at times when life stress was keeping me awake.
    I have issues with addiction, depression, co-dependency with a history of family suicide and married a man who was emotionally/verbally abusive. I was sexually abused by a babysitter over a two year period from the age of 10 – 12 that I hardly remembered until I was asked gently and directly by a therapist at the age of 27. I was perplexed by the question at the time, but over time have come to realize and respect the impact of what happened during those 2 years. “Not entirely remembering” did not mean that it did not happen.,,,,Hence began the writing. Writing has always been an avenue where I could speak the truth, even if no one ever read it. It is a place to put my thoughts so they are out of my own head. It sometimes validates that which I cannot…just yet. Thank you for a place to write and share.

  14. Trisha,
    I’m so glad you found solace in writing too! It sounds like you might really enjoy the writing blog that we’re posting tomorrow by Jennifer. She echoes some of the same feelings.

    You’re so right that not remembering something or only remembering a little doesn’t mean the event was insignificant or that it didn’t happen. No matter the duration or what happened, abuse is abuse and it’s all destructive and damaging. Thanks for sharing a little of your story.
    Christina

  15. Thank you for this excellent post, with specific ideas for getting to the bottom of things.

    Writing is how I enter the world…or at least it used to be. I gave it up, along with everything else that ever made me feel good. I found myself in a very circular pattern in my journal and any fiction writing I did came out sounding whiny and victim-y, so I quit that too. I find myself excusing my abusers in my journal too. I have not been able to separate the facts of what happened to me from the realities and complexities of the relationships involved. I don’t want anyone to “think” that I’m blaming my childhood for all the bad choices I’ve made as an adult. Although why I couldn’t blame whatever I want in my own journal is beyond me. (I live alone–no danger of it being read by anyone else.) I can’t get away from the “audience” problem. “If anyone ever read this, I would be mortified.” Of course, that is a direct result of the fact that my journal (diary) was read as a kid and what was written in it thrown back in my face. Trust, even in myself, is such a huge issue.

    I recognize the necessity of this kind of work. I just don’t know how to “get out of my head” while doing it. Thanks for your ideas. I will try some of the above.

  16. Lisa,
    Thanks for sharing that. I don’t know if you read any of my actual letters (I posted a link within the body of the blog), but I started out sounding very whiney and victimy too. That’s okay, it’s an honest look at what’s inside. The letters helped me see the truth and in seeing it, I was able to move past the lies, which are what kept me in victim thinking. Keep writing. Even if you destroy what you write, keep writing! Hugs, Christina

  17. I feel this so much. i’m so in this limbo you speak of between my old false self, and I guess there will be someone else soon. I just feel so distant from everything. And like I don’t want to be here more than I want to work to solve this. I’m not even sure I feel it is solvable. What makes me believe it might be is reading stories like this. That you can come from a place of having fabricated an alternative ‘rosy’ childhood – I mean I had ‘memories’ like I made this wooden spaceship with my Dad, and well, they never happened, it was dream. my whole childhood is mostly like that or grey fog, or photographs. And anyway more recently, I feel so uncomfortable about it, what’s happening. Memories I guess that were always there and are coming back. I don’t want to write them down. I’m a writer. But I always wrote as a way out. Somehow recently I did drawing at that seemed to help. I actually recalled things from when I was one year old – safe things, that I had to check with my mum but behind them were terrifying things that I could not share. I feel like someone whose disabled inside

  18. Louise,
    I’m glad that even though you’re not entirely convinced that wholeness is possible, that you at least have hope. I’m convinced that healing and wholeness and freedom is possible for everyone after abuse. I’ve seen it over and over. I know it’s hard to be lost in the facade, but that other world was completely necessary for your survival. As you deal with the issues that made that fantasy world so important, you’ll be able to see more and more of the truth.
    Hugs, Christina

  19. I just reread this you wrote ‘I started a special healing journal for things related to my abuse such as nightmares, recovered memories, and flashbacks’ I think I need to do this, but somehow I need to allow myself to write down the horrible stuff. If writing it is so scary how will I be able to share it and become congruent. Also the letters you wrote to your Dad, the public,your body and money. I think would be very healthy for me to try to do. I have similar issues I guess.

    The nightmares I’m having now are very telling I think. What’s amazing to me is the desperateness of my resistance to expressing anything. I feel like no one ever knew me, some people think they did, but I was never there and no one ever gave me long enough to even attempt to be there. How did you not judge yourself when you wrote down what came up? I feel like half of me wants to kill the other half of me for saying anything. And then today I woke up with the I’m bad feeling, and had this I’m bad, I’m not bad conversation with myself!

    ‘For a few weeks and months, I remained in limbo, somewhere between my false past and my new reality.’
    This is where I am at I guess

  20. First of all, Louise I can really relate to what you posted. I could relate to some of your questions and especially the one half wanting to kill the other half of you. That’s how I have been feeling.

    Christina, it’s hard to see the truth. I think I’m beginning to, and I don’t want to. All of my issues really came up after I met my dad in October. It had been 18 years since I’d seen him. I was 3 when the court took away custody and contact from him. Nothing really seemed real until now. Things have been coming up since meeting him. I think I’ve always had body memories, but never knew what they were until now. I’ve never validated my emotions and I don’t want to. I don’t want to write things down because, as others have said, that does validate them and make them real. And I hate that it’s real! It makes me angry and I hate it and everything inside of me wants to scream and yell!!!!!!!!! Everything inside of me is screaming. I am actually finishing school and getting my BA in Professional Writing in May…writing has always been a way for me to express my innermost thoughts. But, I’m finding it difficult to do this now when I need it the most. I can’t even get out here what I want to say, whatever that is.

  21. Louise,
    I soooo understand your resistance to recording anything. For me, that just made it more real than I was comfortable with. Some things I’m ready to write about as soon as they occur to me, but other things require time. I just allow myself to process it in whatever way I can.

    It took some time for me not to judge myself as I faced my real feelings. It was a process. It really helps to acknowledge that they were very normal feelings considering my history. I felt so much shame even for good things that I did so it helped to confront the shame. It also helped for me to deal with my inner child in a way that helped me to have compassion for myself. It wasn’t only one thing, but every step helped.
    Hugs, Christina

    Mindy,
    You may not be able to get it all out right now, but you’re making a really good start by the comments you’ve made here and on the Facebook page. It’s rarely come out all at once for me. Sometimes I start to write something and don’t finish it for months. Othertimes, it comes pouring out in a few minutes. Just do what you can when you can. You’re still making progress at whatever speed you’re going. You’ll get it out. Just keep going.
    Hugs, Christina

  22. Christina, sometimes I read things or someone says something that resonates with me and I often tuck away bits and pieces for future reference. Other times what I hear or read will instantly connect the dots for me and once in a while, I have a real “a-ha” moment. This post does all of that and then some! I too, am in limbo between was never really was and what will be. I am right in the throes of the most devastating loss and grief.
    The past couple of weeks have been my lowest of lows since embarking on this recovery journey more than 20 years ago. This past weekend was my “bottom.” I am in the exact spot in my recovery which you have written about here. Writing has been a tool for me, but lately, I have felt a loss for words. I decided last night that today would be a new day. I’m not sure how that was supposed to happen, but I’m ready for it. I connected with you and your experience this morning in such a powerful way. I am going to write a letter; and another and another. I want healing. I want to live. Thank you for everything you do and for sharing your awesome “power tool” with us. You really are an inspiration to me!

  23. Gabrielle,
    I’m so happy to hear this was helpful to you. I can relate to not having words to express the depth of feeling. Sometimes, there isn’t ANY type of expression that can communicate what I’m feeling. Sometimes groans or other sounds help even when I can’t articulate something. It’s still getting it out, even if it doesn’t make sense. Later, the words come when I write (if I’m patient!) But before the words spill out, I just sit with myself and grieve silently. I validate my emotions the way nobody else ever did. I just sit in my pain and acknowledge that it matters and that in itself is extremely healing.

    Thank you for sharing your feelings!
    Hugs,
    Christina

  24. Mom and I emailed each other daily,I thought we were cool. But when she died I was left off the will. My siblings who let on it was all about family prior to that threw me overboard. They were set. It knocked me for a loop. I was the scum of the family once again. I am the guilty one for going NC for ten years, I guess coming back didn’t count for anything. I email Mom everyday still, not with newsy things and photos I used to send, but to try and sort out why and sort out me.
    Stumbling acrossed your site and reading up on narccicism has brought clarity. I knew the family was sick, that they had a deep seated problem, that they were all schooled very well by two people how to obsolve themselves by putting it on the scapegoat.
    I am a nice person, I am loyal to friends, I didn’t deserve any of their punishment. Not ever!

  25. Mary,
    I’m so sorry that you were so cruelly rejected by your family. That’s especially awful that your mom didn’t include you in her will and left you without explanation. I think that’s a great idea to keep writing to her to sort out your feelings and to express them and validate them. Keep doing what’s best for you, even if nobody else does.
    Christina

  26. Christina, I truly love how I come across these gems via google searches. I’m writing out my own story. From start to finish. I don’t think I’ve ever truly written an ACCURATE account of things before. I’m tired and I haven’t written a lot (maybe 5 pages). I can see the usefulness of it. I’ve already spent time crying for the little 5 and 6 year old that wrote her part so far. I think releasing the truth this way is helpful but i won’t lie and say I’m not still afraid of it. I wonder if I could ever write a letter to my abusers like you have done. For now it seems unlikely. Anyway, I was searching for tips to help me keep writing. This was on the first page of my google search. Thank you.

  27. Genesis,
    That’s so funny that you found this post through google when you’re such a regular part of our community! I got a good laugh out of that. I guess the important thing is that you found something useful. Yay! I’m so glad you’re taking the time to do this for yourself. I think it will make such a difference to you.
    Hugs,
    Christina

  28. Writing has helped me go through the stages of grief, anger and acceptance. If it wasn’t for getting my guts out, I would’ve been too overwhelming for my loved ones and I would’ve went mad. One of my escapes was reading when I was little, it seemed to be my only safe haven. For some reason they left me alone when I hid away in my rooom reading. When I made an appearance I was pounced on, usually verbally by Mom which often turned into physical, my Dad laying in wait for me to blow after being vented at for what seemed like hours. So back up in my room to sob confused why I evoked such a reaction by just existing. There was a bookcase I loved, it had all the harcovered readers digests, my fantasy world. Call Of The Wild and Lassie, my favorites. Lassy showed me a world where there was kindness and a Father who took time and explained the world to Timmy. I idealized a world like that.
    Mom asked if there was any one thing I wanted from her house. She was 84 and her time was limited. I said yes the bookcase. It was old and a bit worse for wear. It was strange to her of all things that she had that were valuable, that’s all I wanted. For one I knew the others would be like swooping vultures (which they didn’t disappoint there) and would be grabbing for the best. I wanted no part of it.
    It was fortunate it was something she wanted out of the way anyway and luckily she sent it back with my daughter when she visited her. If she didn’t I know I wouldn’t have even gotten that.
    After Mom’s funeral and we were packing up her things in the nursing home, my dear siblings who had divided up her spoils when she sold her house, went around the room to see who wanted the tv, no one spoke up. They finally pointed to me and said what about you? I said sure. $400 they said. One of a dozen things that made me have to self-talk and remain calm. My son not so much, he went slamming out the door. I felt so bad for him. When we got back to his house he was visibly shaking with rage and said I can’t talk about it.
    The reality of my family and how horrible they did treat me finally resonated with my sons. For years before this my family even enlisted them to come up against me. My brother made it sport to poke at me and use them for it. Subtle and not so subtle jabs. Now they get it, really get it that my family is vile. They thrive on tormenting as my parents did. They do it with each other, find the weakest points and twist you up so you can’t think.
    For the past 6 months I have spit out every thought that comes to mind. I want to thoroughly clean the emotional closet until I exhaust everything I ever wanted to say. If they dare to try and contact they will be sent the whole whack of emails. I am sure once they read them they wouldn’t bother me again! lol

  29. Hi its Clare
    I write every day of how Im feeling in a book but just wish I could show my feelings. Some times I show them in the wrong way by hurting my self I know its wrong but thats the only way it comes easy.
    I hoping that 2012 is going to be better than last year and nothing bad is going to get in the way of good things to come.

  30. Mary,
    I love your phrase, “thoroughly clean the emotional closet.” That’s exactly how I’ve thought of it so many times. When my closet looks like a disaster hit it, the only way to get everything clean and organized again is for me to take everything out and sort through it one by one, which is what writing is for me. Thank you for sharing your experience!
    Christina

    Clare,
    I think you’re making a great start to showing your feelings in healthy ways. It’s wonderful that you’re writing everyday and sharing some things here. I hope that this year is better for you, too.
    Christina

  31. Tough but neccessary day. I documented my worst memories and for every thought I put in big exclamation, “BUT HE WAS CURED!” I heard “he is cured” every time I did try to confront his behavior. He went to a clinic for 3 months and from that time forward, in my parents mind he was cured. It was exhausting and I slept the rest of the day and next. Today I feel such a weight has lifted. What seperates me from them is I deal in truth, they never have. Truth hurts and my parents and brother/abuser couldn’t handle facing it, they are gone now and my siblings who I know, knows better, carry on where they left off. They are hurt because I went no contact. What else did they expect? The see fit to treat me lower and left me out cold with the inheritance.
    I read on the web two siblings that were struggling with honoring their Dad’s will and leaving a 3rd sibling out. It didn’t feel right to them. Would it be dishonoring him if they chose to do what they wanted and share with their sister? Everyone responded told them they were wonderful for thinking of their sister and by all means, it is yours now to do with what you want. My siblings could’ve asked themselves the same question. I was told I got what I deserved ( they gave me a minimal amount from what Mom had in her bank account to make themselves feel better I guess) and to stop poisoning the family, that I should accept and co-operate. I sent a final email saying last letter, that the lies in this family IS the poison, not ME!
    So now it is all truth, no lies, that’s all I will deal with. Life is too short and too much time and energy wasted already on selfish fools who only care about their welfare.

  32. [...] My power tool for Rebuilding after Abuse by Christina Enevoldsen from Overcomeing Sexual Abuse Categories : Self [...]

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