It's disheartening to realize that dozens of horrific experiences that have molded me into the shape of who I am, can never be spoken or written lest the intensity, inhumanity and cruelty upset.
I understand this on some level as my reality has been so disturbing and distressing that I've spent decades hiding these little insidious gems of truth deep within my self and removed from my waking reality. It's called dissociation, repressing memories and keeping myself sane and quasi functioning.
Lol, if I couldn't bear to know it, why should anyone else?
I don't know...do people routinely have to sequester large parts of their lives? Do I have to continue to be silent when I've just recently overcome the hurdles, the mountains, the walls and defenses and commend myself for having the strength and courage to talk and acknowledge the forbidden truth?
I feel cheated...that I have to protect you by continuing to suppress all that I am.
I feel like an overly compassionate individual who is continuing to sacrifice herself in the silence to spare you some distress.
What about me? When do I get to finally be okay with who I am and openly acknowledge my pain, my torture and my truth?
I feel almost ugly and hideous living half a life in the dark like this. Doesn't seem right...anymore.
I don't want to live a lie anymore and pretend the things that happened didn't.
Can you hear me now?
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