Is??

My mind is all over the place, attempting to keep away the emotional pain. It lingers there, right on the edge of every other thought. On the very edge of every thought is this twisted pain that lacks words and is a jumble of emotion, hanging there in hopes of forming into something audible, something that can be expressed, something that weighs heavy on my tongue eager to to take shape in order to escape the prison of my mind.




They say I am normal. Normal for someone who has been through what I have been through. Two parents that were mentally ill, caught up in their own nightmares. Having been sexually abused from an early age by boys and men in our neighborhood. Not knowing how beautiful I was and how I felt my only value was my physical body until well into my thirties. Knowing violence, violation, trauma, low self-esteem all the things that would walk me into abusive marriages. And now, am I brave or stupid for putting all my pain out here? I believe brave. If there are no more secrets no one can have power over me. It is not my fault grown men were not man enough to admire my youthful beauty from afar and had to act upon it, violating an unspoken trust of an adult. It is not my fault my parents were too self absorbed in their own illnesses to understand that their children were hurt by it. It is not my fault that my first two husbands had to raise a hand to me, hit me around, bully me to feel better about themselves.

Is it my fault that I now am unable to unload enough of that bullshit to function productively? Is it my fault that I have to desire to deal with other people's drama they bring out into the public to dispense? Is it my fault that it is easier to take a sedative than to tell myself to breathe, relax, it will be OK? Is it my fault I am tired?