7/7

I have been wounded and traumatized by someone who was supposed to protect me, and battling an aftermath most people don’t know about. The 19 year old me wearing rose-colored glasses, and the now 27 year old who still struggles to take them off. All these years I thought I knew someone I didn’t. A cycle of abuse, betrayal, dishonesty, addiction and gaslighting. Hurtful words hitting like rocks, making my soul leave its vessel. Friends and family, telling me to leave, but a codependent bond unabling me to. Afraid to go home, to what awaits. Planning when to speak up, based on the knowing that someone were just around the corner. I’ve been carrying drugs in my pockets, hiding it from its prey or desperately attempted to flush it down the toilet, trying to save someone who didn’t wanted to be saved. I’ve been shattered by years of lies, and revelations of yet another addiction, new ones, old ones. Love with a touch of deception in which made me question if I wanted to continue living. I’ve been strangled by panic attacks, unable to breathe. Bound to surrender to the intangible while learning how to master the skill of pretending that everything is fine, using every inch of my body on holding it together, until I no longer could. I’ve been needing help to eat, breathe, shower and survive, for months on end, while pendling between apathy and anxiety. I’ve been told its name, the foreign four-letter disorder you’ve heard about but never thought would happen to you. Where your illusion of control is dissolving and all you are left with is a body in which you don’t know how will react. Forced to embrace the abstract idea of wearing your wounds as wings. I’ve been swallowed by the night, yet discovered my inner source of light, while grasping the thought that destruction is a form of creation. The anxiety slowly loosens its grip, the triggers neutralizes, the flashbacks doesn’t run as wild, though I’m still walking carefully in the corners of my mind, afraid to wake up the beasts of a darkened past. But I know, that to be able to heal, I have no other choice but to face them. I’ve been hiding my story, not to keep it from being told, but to share it when it’s time.