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Showing posts with the label trauma

Living in Squalor!

  I head downstairs, the overwhelming scent of mold permeates throughout the room. Garbage and wet clothes are scattered everywhere and makeshift hammocks adorn the ceiling. A dirty rabbit hutch reeks of urine and feces, and the rotting smell of dead mice or some other mysterious animal buried beneath the filthy ruble burns my nose. As the intense aroma penetrates my eyes, they begin to water incessantly, I don’t think I can handle this. With a trash bag in one hand and plugging my nose with the other, I proceed down into the dingy basement. I  begin wading through the plethora of items in my path, deciding what to keep and what to throw out, I’m disgusted at what I see, my mother would have never let it get like this.  I stand, staring at a massive pile of clothes laying on the damp floor by the washing machine. It feels like just yesterday my mother died and suddenly life went from living in splendor to living in squalor. For me, living in “splendor” didn’t mean living in some extrav

Impending Freedom

  The Enormity of the Openness It is the middle of the night, and I am in complete darkness. I avoid turning on the lights, I want to be like a shadow in the night, completely hidden and unseen. I barely slept tonight, in eager anticipation of impending freedom. As I walk through the kitchen I can feel my heart beating vigorously, pounding like the rain pouring on a tin roof, my blood pressure rapidly increasing with every step. The room is spinning, swirling around me as if I’m on a never ending carousal. I feel dizzy and lightheaded but I know I need to keep moving. I try and regain my focus and begin to creep slowly towards the door. I can feel my toes starting to go numb and my legs feel heavier and heavier with every step. The floor boards creek beneath my feet, the sound seemingly echoing  throughout the room. I can see the door handle. Bag in hand, I’m ready to go. I quietly unlock the door and gently turn the knob. I pull the door open a little bit at a time, I don’t want anyon

Crossing Boundaries

Lately it has felt like I have reached an impasse when it comes to my depression and anxiety. I am at a dead end and I am certain that I am destined  to fail at life. I am not meant to be successful. All of my confidence has been stripped from me and I have officially hit rock bottom. I don’t know how to pull myself out of the darkness. It’s as if I’m standing outside, naked and exposed. I’m exhausted and I just want it all to be over.  This is me at 12 years old before I was placed in foster care for a year. I have now been experiencing abuse for 3 years. I’m tired and I don’t feel like a little girl anymore. I feel like a grown woman who lives in the 1700s or something. I must get myself ready and prepare for my nightly coitus with my husband. Only, I am not waiting for my husband, I am fearfully waiting for my abuser. I am laying in bed, covers tightly wrapped around my body, my hands are fixed to my side.  My eyes are wide and my lips are tightly shut. I hear heavy footsteps h

My Earliest Memory

  My earliest memory from childhood seems to be from about the age of 9 years old. I have vague memories from an earlier time. Snippets of things lIke being a cheerleader in pop warner football or the car that my parents used to drive. I don’t remember the color or any details about it, just that it was a station wagon. Clearly, I have no significant memories from an earlier age.   When I was 8ish my mother was diagnosed with metastatic breast cancer. I can remember her having treatments and losing her hair. She wore a wig but hated the way it felt so she preferred to wear a bandana. I can almost picture her petite build and some of her facial features. Although, without a picture I am certain the ability to visualize her would have faded long ago. I can’t remember her voice or her demeanor. I imagine a kind, caring mother. Nothing has indicated otherwise and I hope that never changes. It’s soothing to think that I inherited some good from at least one of my parents. I’m not sure