Instagram photo by skyler.mechelleHearing his voice, her voice, their voices - the memories, the thoughts, the pain - the trauma, the truth, the story - my voice, my being, my emotional clarity and honesty as clearly as I do now, and differentiating the trauma from my person and present comes at a cost. I have sacrificed everything, over and over and over again, because I know that everything is not worth ME.
My trauma is so intense, I knew in every part of myself that I would die if I let go. I will become insane, if I choose to not face. I know, I have, and I chose addiction instead. I will lose myself to the trauma, if I do not choose to sit with that little girl within me and hear her retell the story of what they did to her. I know, I have, and I ended up dying in a hospital from an autoimmune disease instead. No matter how long it takes. No matter how many hours I lie awake, listening to her scream and feeling the pain surge in my body. No matter how many people think I am fucking out of my mind. No matter what, I choose me.
I choose to navigate THIS, and come to a place where I am secure in the safety of knowing the pain, rather than dissociated in the instability of hiding from it.
Have you ever sat with fear, until it stopped yelling? Stood in the room with fear, and listened to it, until it knew you were aware of it? Sat on the floor with fear, until you held it’s hand in yours, and cried together? My fear lives in my skin. My fear lives in my vagina. My fear lives in my head. My fear is my truth. My fear is the struggle that will never leave me. It was drugged, manipulated, scorned, hated, silenced, cut out of me, starved, beaten, and raped more times than I can remember before I sat down on the floor with it…and realised the chaos would never settle, if I didn’t listen.
I forget that living this way isn’t normal, because it is my forever normal. (Part 3)