Pain is blinding. It makes it so you can't see the good things. I have memories of the good things, but those are painful too.
I have the physical pain. Every cyst is another two weeks on my back in pain. Or, more accurately, in the fetal position. Crying because it hurts so badly. And crying because it's a reminder that I might not be able to have children of my own. I remember snapshots of when I didn't have pain. I even went most of this past year without it. But it's back. And it hurts.
Emotional pain hurts too. I remember when I was six, and being trapped under the bed with him. He touched me and wouldn't let me go until I touched him. And I didn't tell my parents because I thought I was the one that broke the rules by touching him. When I finally was old enough to realize what had happened, it was too late to do anything about it.
I also remember those years when the missionary stayed at my house and became "friendly" with me. I remember trying to get away from him, and he picked me up and put me over his shoulder instead.
I remember my classmate pinning me against a wall.
I remember being grabbed from behind.
All that pain led to fear. Fear and mistrust. I WILL NOT let that happen again! I learned you cannot trust a man. So what did I do? I trusted a man. I thought I fell in love. I told him I would marry him. But... he was just like them. He was worse than them. The things he said to me... the things he did to me... I'm glad I got out when I did. But I didn't get out without pain. I didn't get out without fear. Fear of being touched and abused again.
So I decided that I wasn't going to let it happen again. And the circle came again. And I met him. And he made me pretty promises. And he said he wouldn't hurt me. And he made so many pretty promises. And he treated me so nice. But he didn't tell me he had a girlfriend. And when he finally did tell me, he told me more than that. He told me I wasn't worth it. He told me that the entire time we were together, the whole year and a half, all of it was just lies. He never meant a word of what he said.
I can't see past the pain anymore. All I can see is the hurt and the lies. The people that were supposed to protect me but hurt me instead. The people who were supposed to love me but lied to me instead. I made the choice again. I made the choice not to let anyone close enough to make me cry like this. Because the pain... the pain is so bad.
I can't sleep without hearing the whispers. I dream of them. All day long I hear the echoes. All the good memories are tied up with trying to figure out what was true and what was a lie. Every good memory makes me want to cry because it's gone. It all looks so empty. So broken. I used to be happy. I used to be carefree. But not anymore. Now... I'm angry all the time. Hurt all the time. Crying all the time. Pain has blinded me to the good things.
I have the physical pain. Every cyst is another two weeks on my back in pain. Or, more accurately, in the fetal position. Crying because it hurts so badly. And crying because it's a reminder that I might not be able to have children of my own. I remember snapshots of when I didn't have pain. I even went most of this past year without it. But it's back. And it hurts.
Emotional pain hurts too. I remember when I was six, and being trapped under the bed with him. He touched me and wouldn't let me go until I touched him. And I didn't tell my parents because I thought I was the one that broke the rules by touching him. When I finally was old enough to realize what had happened, it was too late to do anything about it.
I also remember those years when the missionary stayed at my house and became "friendly" with me. I remember trying to get away from him, and he picked me up and put me over his shoulder instead.
I remember my classmate pinning me against a wall.
I remember being grabbed from behind.
All that pain led to fear. Fear and mistrust. I WILL NOT let that happen again! I learned you cannot trust a man. So what did I do? I trusted a man. I thought I fell in love. I told him I would marry him. But... he was just like them. He was worse than them. The things he said to me... the things he did to me... I'm glad I got out when I did. But I didn't get out without pain. I didn't get out without fear. Fear of being touched and abused again.
So I decided that I wasn't going to let it happen again. And the circle came again. And I met him. And he made me pretty promises. And he said he wouldn't hurt me. And he made so many pretty promises. And he treated me so nice. But he didn't tell me he had a girlfriend. And when he finally did tell me, he told me more than that. He told me I wasn't worth it. He told me that the entire time we were together, the whole year and a half, all of it was just lies. He never meant a word of what he said.
I can't see past the pain anymore. All I can see is the hurt and the lies. The people that were supposed to protect me but hurt me instead. The people who were supposed to love me but lied to me instead. I made the choice again. I made the choice not to let anyone close enough to make me cry like this. Because the pain... the pain is so bad.
I can't sleep without hearing the whispers. I dream of them. All day long I hear the echoes. All the good memories are tied up with trying to figure out what was true and what was a lie. Every good memory makes me want to cry because it's gone. It all looks so empty. So broken. I used to be happy. I used to be carefree. But not anymore. Now... I'm angry all the time. Hurt all the time. Crying all the time. Pain has blinded me to the good things.