Just when I think I've said all there is to say there is something else going through my head. It feels like a volcano ready to erupt at any point. Right now it's just sitting as a peaceful but active volcano, sure the scientists are talking about how many something will happen, but they don't know that it's just brooding, waiting for the last straw before it all just explodes outs my ears and the words come flowing out of my mouth like lava unable to stop until they've caused ultimate destruction. Yeah that's where my brain feels today. I'm spending so much time trying to eat my words lately thinking that maybe that will stop them from spewing everywhere but I should just accept that it's going to happen.
I've been struggling and there is a part of me that just feels empty. I can't explain it. Like for someone that often has a lot to say and has a fairly easy time at putting words to paper and having it make sense I just can't seem to lately. There is this nausea that just doesn't seem to go away. I guess this isn't too far after the part of the year that this usually happens. Maybe that's it. My internal body clock going off reminding me of some of the most terrifying times of my life. I didn't even realize until just now that it's that time of year again.
I really wish my body would stop doing this. It's really hard to move on in your life when every spring a pit hits your stomach like a sack of bricks. This feeling like you're unlovable and like nothing will ever work out as it is meant to. Like the only people you'll ever bring into your life are the ones that want to use you up, abuse you, or keep you as a reserve. Regardless at the end they always throw you to the curb on trash day, tattered and mucked up. And all I can do is try to pick myself back up, crushed and scared and try to wash off the most recent scars.
Though I am grateful that last spring brought no blood or bruises it still brought scars on my psyche and my soul that I didn't really realize were there until lately. There's this level of insecurity and paranoia that as a strong, independent, woman I have prided myself on not having, but low-and-behold they exist now. A jealousy and need for commitment that I can't understand. To go from a place where any thought of being tied down made me physically ill to feeling the same being in a place of unknowing is just strange.
It's crazy to think that in the last eight years my body has been taken advantage of, brutalized, and battered and has time and time again risen above and come out stronger with only small scars to remind me of what I have overcome. Yet, in the last eight years I have slowly allowed my spaces, actions and emotions be more controlled by the actions of three individuals, knowing full well that seeing any of them would shoot concrete through my veins causing me to freeze, turn a pale shade of gray, and lose all confidence and words that once spun through my mind.
It's crazy to think that after eight years I still won't drive through certain neighborhoods of my home town because my stomach seizes and my heart tightens at just the thought of being near that place. That six years later I still won't live in a place for longer than a year with the concern that you'll appear at my door like you once did. Or that you'll once again lock me away from everyone I know and love because they're interfering with your plans. That a year later I still pause when making plans to make sure they aren't going to frustrate you or that they aren't with people you wouldn't want me around. It's crazy to think that so much of my life has been controlled by the actions of a few.
For a third of my life spring has been a hard time, it's signified violation, a lack of safety, and a lack of agency. I've been sitting here the last few weeks, trying to open myself up to someone new, unable to figure out why moments have made me physically ill, and why others have caused me sheer panic. I had noticed the knots in my stomach and the unusual edginess to my step but haven't been able to put my finger on what has been going on.
At what point does your heart stop beating out of your chest at the mention of their names or at the glimpse of someone that looks like them? At what point does home feel safe? At what point does being held by someone not immediately go down in a ball of flames in your head? At what point does it get easier? At what point does the slight threatening tone in someones voice not make you have a panic attack? At what point do you quit feeling like you have to protect yourself in every second? Is there a point?
I still remember every moment. I wish I could forget. I wish I could forget all of it. Maybe then it would be easier to connect to someone without internally flinching every time they move quickly. Maybe then I'd be able to sleep through the night when someone was asleep next to me. Maybe then I'd be able to look at myself and my body and see it as something worth loving. Maybe then I'd be able to trust when others told me I was beautiful, or that I was worth it, or that they wanted to be with me, instead of hearing that they want something or that it's just another method of control. Maybe one day... until the spring is when the storms will roll in.
No comments:
Post a Comment