Friday, February 17, 2012
I have so much to say about this day and tomorrow but I have no words to utter my extreme regret, sympathy, anger and loss.
There are no words to portray the emotions that are held so deep down inside of me that are slowly poking their heads out in an attempt to escape. The tears have been streaming down my face now for several days. My mood has been off, I feel lost inside of myself. Maybe because I am sick with a chest infection, but it’s definitely no secret that I was almost killed seven years ago, tonight.
I fought so hard to survive and I sit here pondering the question “what for?” I haven’t a clue who I am or why I am or what led me to this place so that I would survive or what it is I am supposed to do with this knowledge I have about being the ultimate victim when no one else can actually comprehend, accept or begin to understand.
I am not a psychology book and I don’t fit into any one category. Making my trauma even more difficult to accept because no one knows how to treat it, how to deal with it. I am an emotional being and I am travelling about this place wearing my emotions on my cheeks in the form of tears, on my flesh in the form of cuts and scars, and in my mind in the form of an eternal turmoil that never subsides. The embers that spark this painful fire within me never seem to burn out, even when the flame is low the embers are red hot waiting for some oxygen so then can flare up.
Is that what I have come to be?
A burning ember waiting for someone to fuel the fire!
Words, cannot describe the deep sense of loss that I was forced to experience because of my ex and his family.
I have never had the chance to mourn the loss of myself. Those five long, gruesome years spent in the world as a toy, chattel to be traded or sold. I missed out on my adolescence because I was trapped in hell. I missed out on my early twenties because even though I had physically escaped my mind was still trapped. I lost my possessions, my house, my children, and my identity. I became and still am, a shell of the person I once was.
Have you ever lost everything all in one swoop?
I did, I still don’t know how to grieve or how to deal with those losses. Some of it seems so superficial while at the same time it feels like a personal attack at who I am, who my family was.
Why do I still get threatened?
Why am I made to know I am unfinished business and that although I have escaped physically that I always will be a mere possession that needs to watch its back because the battle isn’t over?
I wait for those hands to grab me from behind and for me to see my freedom leave me for the last time. I know it’s just a matter of time before I am grabbed and never let go, not out the door anyway. Next time, I will leave tightly locked in a box or trunk, maybe a bag. I won’t be unfinished business twice. I won’t scar their reputations as Masters and trainers again. It won’t be allowed. I was their first mistake, and we each know that it’s only a matter of time before they rectify that problem.
I imagine in my head and when I sleep what the dungeon looks like now, where it is. I look on sites to see what’s available now. Lots of stuff puts the fear of god in me. Knowing how painful it would be and how restrictive. It’s horrifying to see these new products and know that you’re likely going to meet your fate with some of them. I see how easy it is to find drugs or recipes for drugs online, I wonder how many time I will be put out as I fight or if I even will fight the inevitable.
Knowing what it’s like to survive leaves me wishing I had known this gut wrenching pain would follow wherever I go for the rest of my life. I may have thought twice 7 years ago when I fought to escape, and allowed them to kill my instead.
I guess the only real question I have about all of this is “Why me?”