For as long as I can remember I have been trapped. Trapped by the fear of my past.
For a long time it was easy for me to cope. I would just pretend it never happened and use self-harm to cope. Once I started cutting, aged 13, it was easy for me to use it as my coping mechanism. As soon as I felt sad or angry I would just cut myself. Cutting made the feelings go away. Cutting pushed everything back down inside.
Then I reported my abuser to the police and everything changed. All these feelings and emotions started bubbling to the surface. Feelings I have never let myself feel before. A pain I have never experienced. It crushes my chest, making it hard to breathe. I cut to try to make it go away but it doesn’t work. It doesn’t push it all back down like it used to. I am scared. I don’t understand what is happening.
I feel this unbearable pain in my chest all the time. Sometimes, for no reason in particular, I struggle to catch my breath. There is this constant pressure in my head. A fuzziness I find hard to explain. It is the fuzziness of dissociation. A fuzziness trying, and failing, to keep me safe.
I feel so broken. So emotionally broken that I can feel it. Physically feel it. My head is heavy. My eyes are sore. My body is tense. This isn’t just sadness. This is so much more than that. This is emotion. Lots and lots of emotion built up from the very first day that monster laid his hands on me. I am broken.
You cannot see it. Not like with clocks where you can always tell exactly when they stop ticking because you can see the hands stand still.
With people it isn’t so easy. Sometimes you cannot even tell that they are broken. They don’t stand still. There are no signs. They carry on as normal.
No-one sees how broken I am. How I carry things inside that weigh me down. Things holding me down like an anchor drowning me at sea.
They will never understand the hell I feel inside my head. I cannot drown my demons for they know how to swim. I am drowning in my own thoughts. Sinking, flailing, reaching for anything that might save me. My life is a constant, urgent, desperate struggle to justify living. A constant battle to find my purpose, my worth.
I am strong but I am exhausted. One day I can feel everything all at once, the next I just feel nothing. Nothing but numb.
One day I can cry. The next crying is too scary, so I cut instead. Cutting is easier. Cutting is less scary. Cutting is physical. Physical pain I can cope with. I am used to it. Emotional pain is too much. Too frightening. Emotional pain makes me fragile and vulnerable.
My heart is broken. So broken it physically hurts. Every time I refuse to cry and hold back the tears, I am drowning my heart in more and more pain. I feel like I am dying inside. Like all the butterflies have given up and no longer know how to fly.
My heart has been played, stabbed, cheated, burned and broken, yet somehow it is still beating. But it is trapped, drowning in emotion. It is trying so desperately to stay afloat.
I am a broken, fragile child in an adults body. My heart is crying. My soul is dying. The little girl screaming out in pain, desperate to be saved. Drowning, longing for someone to pull her to safety. To protect her. To teach her how to swim.
My heart is trapped, drowning. Struggling to be free from the torment of its childhood. Struggling to finally be whole.
I am scared my heart won’t survive. I am scared that my heart will never be free.
I am scared that eventually my heart will sink once and for all.
Thanks for reading
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