How The Trauma(s) Go On.
It never goes away.
I grew up in a happy household. Waking up to the smell of bacon and eggs—my mom’s cooking would fill the house with the tasty aroma that famines. I untucked myself from the sheets. My feet feeling the coldness of my room’s floor.
“Breakfast!” My mom called. I got up to brush my teeth. The stairs would clutter to the footsteps of everyone running down to the dining table.
We’d strictly eat together in a round table. Pray and eat, talking about plans for the day. It was a warm and loving room.
…
And then, It all comes to a quiet. I feel your relentless, electrifying gaze glued to me from across the table.
Heaviness would burden my shoulders. The feeling of unworthiness would isolate me. And suddenly, I am alone. Unsafe. Terrified—so much so that I couldn’t even speak.
I couldn’t move. It felt like a predator was hiding in the bushes, behind my back. Waiting for the perfect moment to pounce.
The silverware scratched the ceramic plates. My mom said, “the church’s looking for a new lead singer. You should put your talent to good use.”, “ are you doing anything after school?”, I replied. “I have a school…Work… Thing…” Pointing my thumb over my shoulder.
I didn’t have a thing I needed to do. But I felt so drained, powerless to do anything.
“Oh ok, but you let me know when you’ve changed your mind.” My mom responded. I nod, looking down on my food to eat.
I would come to school, with the world’s weight on my shoulders. Afraid of people. They are not what they appear to be. They always have a hidden agenda—a self-serving motive.
The burden never goes away. It is always there. Sometimes it envelops you in the middle of the day. Everything would come to a pause and silence the happiness you have within.
The scars, I still feel it etched in my soul. I no longer remember it vividly as I used to. But the insecurity it gave me, I didn’t know that it could last this long. The thought of being unworthy affects my day—the simple tasks I do on a daily basis.
When someone compliments me, I still don’t know how to react. When someone loves me, I still don’t know how to receive.
I sometimes think, somehow, I’m still strapped to the chair from when I was a kid. I couldn’t remember the exact date, time or any other details. I couldn’t even remember how it led to that. But I still feel your touch. Forcibly, persuasively trying to lay down my guard. I didn’t know what you were trying to do. It felt wrong. But how would I know that it was rape?
The traumas never go away. It is like a boulder we bear behind our backs. We don’t see it. But it affects our lives. It is always there. It never left. We just became strong enough to bear the weight. To walk without limping. To look ahead. To press on. It was almost impossible. But at least I’m still here. I managed to live with it.
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Thanks for sharing . It takes strength to share. And no, it never really goes away.
You learn how to manage it. And that's really freaking hard.
Sometimes I still can't take a shower without thinking about it, without thinking about how they got away with it. And I’m always gonna be the bad guy just because I was there. Incapable of defending myself, or even knowing what could have been going on at the time. The only justice you really can get is from yourself by way of growth. But people who usually go through this, find the type of isolation that is counterintuitive to that growth. Finding growth in community can help. Once again thank you for sharing.