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My therapist used to say that I get the flashbacks because I don't talk about it enough. But how am I supposed to talk about it when everyone tells me that my story has been made invalid by the alcohol in my bloodstream, and the fact that I laughed about it the next day? We all have different ways to survive. How was I supposed to process my emotions the morning after when I had blood dripping down my legs, standing in the 6am cold, because shivering outside without a jacket was far better than staying in a room with one of my rapists, and the lingering smell of shame? I am far too young to feel a pain like this. A pain so heavy that my entire soul is flattened by the weight I carry around. A violation so evil that I cannot help but leave my body - it is no longer mine but a vessel that carries the blackness of my ache, my thoughts that turn to ash when I try to say them out loud and the demons that have possessed me. Demons born from the three of you. How can I continue when I can still feel three pairs of unwanted hands,       gripping,                                                     hitting,                                         bruising me                     all at once? How can I breathe when I can still feel six eyes on the most intimate parts of me, every vulnerability and weakness? How can I live when I still have pieces of you entangling yourselves around my bones, suffocating my heart? I thought that by burying it all deep into myself - every 'it' that you called me, every bruise left on my skin, every single ****** that tore me apart - encased by my ribcage, wrapped in skin that you made into paper, I would be able to carry on. I created my very own Pandora's box. But you escaped; every millilitre of your venom is combined and coursing through my veins, poisoning each one of my nerve endings. I no longer see the same version of myself, like looking in a broken mirror, each fragment showing a different flaw, a different shame. I am not me. I am full of darkness. My mind is sick, I am filled to the brim with hate and anger and inescapable sadness. You made me into a monster that leaves fingerprints of acid on everything I touch. Is there anything worse than seeing six vitriolic eyes everywhere I go? Is there anything worse than your visits to me when I sleep, waking up drenched in sweat because of the horror? Is there anything worse than feeling a constant lump of anxiety in my throat, whenever I'm left alone? - because please please please don't feed me to the wolves again! Is there anything worse than starving myself because no-one will ever love me unless I'm thin because I'm too riddled with trauma? Is there anything worse than blaming myself so much that I started hurting myself again? No-one ever tells you that trauma lasts forever, but I'm learning that now. Because it's been ten months and twenty-two days since the three of you destroyed me... And you've been destroying me every day since.
0
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
The destruction caused by ****
My therapist used to say that I get the flashbacks because I don't talk about it enough. But how am I supposed to talk about it when everyone tells me that my story has been made invalid by the alcohol in my bloodstream, and the fact that I laughed about it the next day? We all have different ways to survive. How was I supposed to process my emotions the morning after when I had blood dripping down my legs, standing in the 6am cold, because shivering outside without a jacket was far better than staying in a room with one of my rapists, and the lingering smell of shame? I am far too young to feel a pain like this. A pain so heavy that my entire soul is flattened by the weight I carry around. A violation so evil that I cannot help but leave my body - it is no longer mine but a vessel that carries the blackness of my ache, my thoughts that turn to ash when I try to say them out loud and the demons that have possessed me. Demons born from the three of you. How can I continue when I can still feel three pairs of unwanted hands,       gripping,                                                     hitting,                                         bruising me                     all at once? How can I breathe when I can still feel six eyes on the most intimate parts of me, every vulnerability and weakness? How can I live when I still have pieces of you entangling yourselves around my bones, suffocating my heart? I thought that by burying it all deep into myself - every 'it' that you called me, every bruise left on my skin, every single ****** that tore me apart - encased by my ribcage, wrapped in skin that you made into paper, I would be able to carry on. I created my very own Pandora's box. But you escaped; every millilitre of your venom is combined and coursing through my veins, poisoning each one of my nerve endings. I no longer see the same version of myself, like looking in a broken mirror, each fragment showing a different flaw, a different shame. I am not me. I am full of darkness. My mind is sick, I am filled to the brim with hate and anger and inescapable sadness. You made me into a monster that leaves fingerprints of acid on everything I touch. Is there anything worse than seeing six vitriolic eyes everywhere I go? Is there anything worse than your visits to me when I sleep, waking up drenched in sweat because of the horror? Is there anything worse than feeling a constant lump of anxiety in my throat, whenever I'm left alone? - because please please please don't feed me to the wolves again! Is there anything worse than starving myself because no-one will ever love me unless I'm thin because I'm too riddled with trauma? Is there anything worse than blaming myself so much that I started hurting myself again? No-one ever tells you that trauma lasts forever, but I'm learning that now. Because it's been ten months and twenty-two days since the three of you destroyed me... And you've been destroying me every day since.
If you've read this to the end, THIS is the destruction caused by **** - stop injustice anywhere you can
#tw#trigger#suicide#anorexia#selfharm#important
meganknight
Written by
meganknight
23/F/England
Feb 23, 2018
Feb 23, 2018 at 6:43 PM UTC
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