Jul 2013
I began writing to express myself in the written word. To ‘speak’, in writing, of things from my past I was unable to speak aloud. Healing through writing... I needed a place to express myself that was not in a written journal that could be found by the wandering eye of someone in my real life.*
I reflect on the past year, and I do not reflect back with words of healing and strength and self-empowerment. Oh, I would love to write with the grace and eloquence of a woman who has gained the much sought after wisdom and perspective through this painful process, I thought that by now I could face and somehow outgrow the painful things that happened to me long ago.
I wanted to be able to look back on 2012 as a year of personal growth, from a place of asset and growth from my pain. I had wished that by 2013 I would have the ability to distance myself from this pain, that I could hold my pain and not let it consume me as it has for the past few years. But, regrettably, that is not the case.
But this year has not followed the path I had set forth, the goals I had set for myself remained unachieved. I did not want my writing to sound as pathetic as it does, I did not want to continue being buried alive in this pain, and I am so disgusted at the woman behind the mask, and I am filled with hate for little girl who aches with pain and continues to feel hopeless and alone.
Sadly, instead of feeling like I am on a ‘healing’ path, instead of being able to express myself in real life, instead of being able to take off my mask and be real, instead of being able to ask for help when I need it, reach out for help when I am drowning; I am now surrounding the brick wall I built long ago with barbed wire, and hired trained guards to patrol the perimeter, for reinforcement.
I wonder which side of the perimeter the therapist will end up on...I know he used to have the pass to enter into my world, but then a perceived breach revoked his credentials. And I wonder when I will finally just pack it all up and just fade away. In a sense I have already done so emotionally ~ only the shell remains.
*I am pathetic. I am last week’s leftovers that should have been thrown away long ago. I am tired and I don't want to do it anymore. I am not the woman I wanted to become...not in person, not in written word. Tonight, I am wishing for something to turn me into dust and ******* away...
I reflect on the past year, and I do not reflect back with words of healing and strength and self-empowerment. Oh, I would love to write with the grace and eloquence of a woman who has gained the much sought after wisdom and perspective through this painful process, I thought that by now I could face and somehow outgrow the painful things that happened to me long ago.
I wanted to be able to look back on 2012 as a year of personal growth, from a place of asset and growth from my pain. I had wished that by 2013 I would have the ability to distance myself from this pain, that I could hold my pain and not let it consume me as it has for the past few years. But, regrettably, that is not the case.
But this year has not followed the path I had set forth, the goals I had set for myself remained unachieved. I did not want my writing to sound as pathetic as it does, I did not want to continue being buried alive in this pain, and I am so disgusted at the woman behind the mask, and I am filled with hate for little girl who aches with pain and continues to feel hopeless and alone.
Sadly, instead of feeling like I am on a ‘healing’ path, instead of being able to express myself in real life, instead of being able to take off my mask and be real, instead of being able to ask for help when I need it, reach out for help when I am drowning; I am now surrounding the brick wall I built long ago with barbed wire, and hired trained guards to patrol the perimeter, for reinforcement.
I wonder which side of the perimeter the therapist will end up on...I know he used to have the pass to enter into my world, but then a perceived breach revoked his credentials. And I wonder when I will finally just pack it all up and just fade away. In a sense I have already done so emotionally ~ only the shell remains.
*I am pathetic. I am last week’s leftovers that should have been thrown away long ago. I am tired and I don't want to do it anymore. I am not the woman I wanted to become...not in person, not in written word. Tonight, I am wishing for something to turn me into dust and ******* away...
