Fear

I’m scared. For no reason and for every reason. I don’t understand. Yesterday the sun was shining…two blue jays fluttered past my window and as I looked out, a fresh breeze swept the sweet smell of freshly mown grass into the room and I was happy. It was the first time in forever since I smiled when I was by myself.

But now. It’s gone. Whatever sunny, happy, shiny feelings I had yesterday seem to be fading at an exponential rate. My arm bleeds. I’ve ravaged my wounds again, spread them all open in pain and grief. I’ve branded. I hate myself for it, but I hated myself before I did it too, so what does it matter?

My dad. I saw his picture today. I was going through some old boxes and there was this picture of my Mom and dad and their dog Charlie in a portrait. It surprised me, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about him again. I was doing so well, not thinking of him, and now I’m stuck there again. I’ve been down this road. I thought I was past it, moved on and ready for the next challenge, but I find that my mind plays me like a house full of mirrors, until I don’t know which thoughts are real and which are only what could be.

I miss him. I worry about him. I still love him. And I deeply, deeply, deeply hate myself for that. I hate him for what he’s done to me, for what I have to go through now, and for what? I keep having this memory replay in my mind. I’m young and in trouble. My dad is sitting on a chair waiting for me. He tells me to come to him. To pull down my pants. To lie across his lap. Then he’s spanking me. Hitting me so hard that I cry out in pain. Eventually, I learn to stop crying. I bite my lip. But the fear is still deeply implanted…The whole ceremony of it. Sick. So why did I type in his name on facebook today just to see if he was still there? Why do I fucking care after what he did to me. It’s been long enough already, please, just let me go. Whatever it is that you have over me, please, just let that fade away to nothing.

I’m here again. Cold and alone with my thoughts and his ghost. Haunted. Hunted. I can never escape. I can’t do this. I’m not strong enough. I’m not brave enough. I’m not smart enough. How can anyone be expected to deal with this overload of emotional and psychological and physical damage at once and remain sane? I don’t believe in myself anymore. I feel like a failure. I haven’t been able to pull myself together after all this time. My family needs me, and I can’t help them. Never ending time unwinds and I remain a shell. A shell who looks like a person I used to be. It fools my loved ones, but when they are gone, in the long, dark loneliness of night, I feel it. All the pain the shell has bottled up inside. And it is killing me slowly, softly, subtly under the surface.