Sunday, March 22, 2015

Some Days

Some days I just want to be free, free from the hurt and constant nagging agony of childhood sexual abuse. I want to be free from all of it and go back to the normal life prior to the recovered memories that have overtaken my life these past four years. To wave my hand and AFB never existed. The pain never occurred.

Some days, I feel as if my only way to find freedom from what he did to me is to shoot him in the face. To see the terror in his eyes just as the copper wrapped lead round pierces through his forehead and explodes out the otherside. The words “vengeance is mine” repeat in my head. I look at my happy children playing in the dried creek bed without a care in the world, and I think that I couldn't abandon them. I look into the concerned filled eyes of my beautiful wife, and I think that I couldn't do anything that would turn her away from me. AFB lives another day.

Some days I loathe the prison I am in. I despise this cage I have been unjustly placed in.  Curled into a tight ball of depression and fear; my heels pressed closely into my body; my face buried in between my knees. I try not to cry as the joints in my body scream that I am too old to be coping in this way.  

Some days I am calm, I am happy. I step out and enjoy the sun and the cool mountain breezes. I am filled with more love than I can humanly express. Something brings me back and I am filled with rage. Rage that I was abandoned by my mother and left to be abused by the one who claimed he was my “father figure.”

Some days, I wake up screaming, my throat is sore from the dreams I had. She didn't hear me even in my nightmares.  

Some days are uneventful. I close my eyes at night and I am grateful for the day.

Some days medicine helps take the pain away if only for a moment.

Some days medicine doesn't help and only serves to make the heartache worse.

Some days I am motivated to heal. I happily go to my support group. I happily sit on the couch and tell my story once again.

Some days I am grateful for the pain as someone from out of the blue tells me they have found hope and healing from one of my stories. They inspire me to write more.

Some days my ass hurts for no reason at all.

Some days are all of these days.

Most days I am moving forward. I open my life for others to see. I share my story and I am whole.