@wontwakewontsleep
Dear Trauma,
I am tired of you. I am endlessly exhausted by your presence.
My heart cries out and begs for me to do something. I am stuck in a place I cannot escape from, my childhood bedroom. Seeing every breakdown and calamity that occurred in the mirrored image of my own eyes. There is a saying you know, “If you grow up with an angry man in your house than there will always be an angry man in your house.”
But Its just not true. I mean yes, I will always live with the you- dancing in the light of the stove in the early mornings before I pack up to head to work. But I will not always live with my Father. I lived without him for a year, and I was the healthiest i’ve ever been. I was doing successful in school, involved in clubs, i had friends and a church I volunteered with. And the added advantage that when I got back only ONE scary thing was waiting for me.
I live with him and I fear that there is no world in which I can begin recovering. Overcoming you, overcoming my past and the things I’ve seen is impossible if the wound is still fresh. It is impossible to heal a wound if it never scabs over. I am so tired of being like this.
But rent is 2500$ around here and I can’t get an apartment.
I am trapped in the same bedroom, and the walls still remain the same.
You see me. Pacing my floor. Listening to the argument occurring outside of my room. Waiting for the gasoline to explode. We know it will, but never when.
So trauma, I’m sorry your on the back burner- i understand youre scary but there is something more terrifying hunting me.
I cannot wait to get out.
I need to get out.
So at least maybe someday I have a chance of being able to recover in any meaningful way.