I obviously felt compelled enough to write tonight. I have been through more traumatic events and tough times than I ever could count. While I could start with the most recent, it’s the first that runs it’s deep veins through my being. It has taken root of simple life. Simple gestures, normal behaviors, ambushed by innocence destroyed. Some times I get this feeling. It’s this feeling of being dirty. No matter how many times I shower or try to scrub myself clean it is still there. It takes root right in my navel. It takes this hold and makes me feel ashamed. When I was six I didn’t understand it. I still barely do. If I move to a new place, if I feel the need for pleasure, when I dirt get out of a shower or need to feel home. It’s so random, but it takes a hold of everything simple and makes me feel uncomfortable and disgusted. The first time I felt it, it was after he touched me. I think it might be the feeling of innocence robbed. I went to counseling for years. Nothing has helped. Now that I have a 5 year old I find myself paranoid beyond belief that my child might endure the same abuse I have. I would kill myself if that ever happened. I find myself not trusting anyone and pushing everyone away because of my fear for my child. My fear from my past. I want to cry but it just stays caught in my throat. I should have never had to have grown up so young. I don’t know if I was ever able to trust or connect to anyone after all of that. I obviously have inner issues not yet resolved. I fear for the day I might see that man. I have dreamt of murder so many times. I remember him being strong and teaching me different choke holds. I think I might throw up if I saw him. Or scream . Or faint. I might black out. I don’t know and it scares me. I’ve always wanted to ask why? For years. My sisters were your blood daughters. My mother totally in love with you. Why did you choose me? Was is just because my father was different? He didn’t even want me. My mother was supposed to abort me… I was unnamed for a full week after I was home. Why did I deserve it? Was it just because I wanted to be loved? My mother often admits that she didn’t become a mother until my sisters were born. Why was I the chosen outcast? To be strong? Strength is measured by what? How much I can endure before I end my life or how much I can endure before life decides my time has ended? I just don’t understand.
It frustrates me that I am spending time on all this negativity on my past. If frustrates me that this put of disgust and loneliness Nd heart break will attack me. It feels like a slight panic, a hollow hole that starts out softball sized and grows to your entire torso. What is it? Why does it come?
My loneliness could fit universes. My paranoia I pray will keep my on alert to protect my child. I take pride in being a mother. I just don’t know if I am balancing things the way they should be. This is why I write tonight.
I will leave off with a positive affirmation.
I am cleansing a broken down soul
with every thought typed, I let a piece of my burden go.
I am an amazing woman and mother